She Stands Up to Pray …

… then bows lies down for sujood.

Masood was trying so hard not to laugh during prayer.

A close family friend invited us to their new home for iftaar a few days ago.  They have an adorable daughter, mashaAllah, who is  two and a half years old.  She’s very friendly and talkative – just like how little girls are supposed to be.  When iftaar was spread out and everyone was sitting to make dua, she kept asking us, “Adhaan hogayi?”  Her face was so serious, as if she had been fasting the entire day and can’t wait for the adhaan!  But when it was time to break the fast, she barely ate a date.

Anyway, so when everyone stood up to get ready for prayers she ran to her mother and asked for her scarf and prayer rug.  Nobody had to tell her anything:  she asked me to fasten the scarf for her, went over to lay her rug besides Masood, and stood to pray.   She was so serious that all throughout her prayers, she only looked down towards her rug.  The only thing was that she forgot (or probably didn’t know) about rukooh.  So she went directly to make sujood – by lying flat on her belly, and stayed there for the rest of her salah!

But seriously, I am truly amazed and impressed.   May Allah bless her – and all the Muslim children – to remain steadfast in their faith and prayers.

Memories of My First Fast

My father decided that I was ready to fast the year I turned ten.  We were in the Philippines that Ramadan, and a couple of my cousins – who were the same age as I was – were staying with us during that time.  So Abbu thought this was the perfect time to teach us about fasting.  My younger sister, who was eight years old, insisted on fasting as well.  So on the first Friday of Ramadan that year, the children woke up before dawn to start their first fast.  We went to school that day, and quietly sat throughout lunchtime whilst all our classmates had their meal.

When we reached home later that day, we couldn’t find our parents.  It was something very unusual since Ammi was a housewife then and was always home whenever we arrived from school.  The aunty next door came over to tell us that Ammi wasn’t feeling well so Abbu had to take her to see the doctor.  She told us to behave, then left when she heard her baby cry.  Since our parents weren’t around, we were happy that we won’t be taking our afternoon nap, and dashed outside to play hide and seek.  A couple of hours later, we were back at home and worried.  I saw the aunty peek out from her window, making sure we weren’t breaking anything, then went back to whatever she was doing.

By five in the afternoon we were all tired, thirsty, hungry, and worried.  Since Ammi wasn’t around to remind us – plus we were so engrossed in playing – we missed all our prayers that day.  Being the eldest, I decided that we break our fast.  At first we were skeptical, but decided that it was the right thing to do since we were uncertain on when our parents will return.  So an hour before iftaar, we drank water and ate dates.

Ammi and Abbu arrived shortly thereafter.

They had brought snacks and juice with them, and lots of fruits of us.  We all sat together to break the fast and offered our prayers.

Then Abbu took me to another room, where he asked me sternly on why I decided to break my fast and encouraged the other children to do the same.  Tears trickled down my cheeks as I listened to him stress on the importance of patience and perseverance during fasting, my head bowed in shame and regret.  I’ve never felt so guilty in my entire life.   I felt responsible for the broken fast of my sister and cousins as well.

Then Abbu drew me close to him and gave me a hug.

It was explained to us that day that we should ask Allah for forgiveness and make up by offering our prayers punctually and pay more attention to our Qur’an lessons.  Ammi and Abbu decided that we weren’t ready for fasting that year, and therefore paid more attention on helping us improve our prayers, and taught us more about Islam and its pillars.

We were in Karachi the following year, where I had my first complete fast.  By then I had learned its importance and virtues.  Everyone around me was fasting – that made things a lot easier.  And later that day, my grandmother arranged for a grand iftaar party for me, where I got to wear new clothes and received lots of gifts!

So the memories of my first fast isn’t really too … exciting to recall … but I’ll always remember that day, because I’ve learned the importance of Ramadan and salat, and of patience.

How was your first fasting experience?  And more importantly, what did you learn that day?

Dinner, Dust and the Guy Who Wants 100 Children

We met for the first time tonight and there was instant bonding, like we’ve known each other for so many years.  The way we first smiled at each other, asked about family, job, and the weather.  We exchanged stories over shawarma and kabab at a Lebanese restaurant.  We had a great time! He is Masood’s Pakistani cousin, who lives in Houston, so we didn’t get the chance to meet him in Karachi.  He, with his wife and four-year-old son, had a two-day stay in Dubai on their way back to Houston from their Umrah trip.  They’re a wonderful family, mashaAllah, and it amazes me on how easily we all got comfortable with each other in such a short time.    I ate a lot.  I’m like that when I’m super happy.

My precious D40 is still resting comfortably in its soft, velvet case.  Ever since we brought it home a few days ago, we have been having dust storms.  The UAE was covered in a blanket of very fine dust coming in from Iraq, experts claimed. I would never bring my D40 out at any cost;  I didn’t even dare take my point-and-shoot out.

There are different opinions on why we were having these dust storms, which started last Friday and has somewhat cleared out today.  One of the reasons is that the military operations in Iraq are changing the surface terrain there.  Six years of troop and vehicle movements had ground soil into fine grains, sending powder billowing skywards.  Another expert claims that Turkish dams have reduced the Tigris and Euphrates rivers to trickles and efforts to revive the Mesopotamian marshes appear to have been abandoned, causing vast swathes of land to dry up, reducing them to dustbowls.

Then there are these two Emirati men who love a household full of children:  Salem Juma’a, in his late 70s, father-of-52  (who also says he will probably stop there) and 60-year-old Daad Abdulrahman has 86 and says he is aiming for 100.  “It’s from God,” says Mr Juma’a. “God gave me this. I can’t object to God’s gift. God gave me because I deserved it. If I did not deserve, God would not give.”

Mr Abdulrahman will marry again after Ramadan, to a woman from Sudan 40 years his junior, and hopes for a further four children a year until he reaches his goal of 100. His youngest child is just 10 months old and two babies are due next month.  The secret to virility is healthy food, says Mr Abdulrahman. “I have 40 sheep and goats. Every week I slaughter one. I always eat at home.”  But will he stop when he reaches 100? “If I have 100 rupees and I walk in the street and I find one rupee, I will take it in spite of being rich.”

Images from Google

I Met Her on Her Wedding Day

Though we’ve exchanged e-mails and spoke over the phone a few times, I met her for the first time at her wedding reception on the eve of July 16.  It was a very intimate gathering, where I felt very comfortable right away.  I had a great time;  one I’ll remember for a very long time – because this was also the very first time I’ve met a blogger-friend in person.

She’s a great writer, mashaAllah, and her posts mainly focuses on personal experiences with emphasis on Qur’an and ahadith.  In short, each post has a moral lesson.  However, she has carefully avoided giving away too much information about herself.  And respecting her privacy, I will not mention who this blogger-friend is, unless she permits me to.

Since I didn’t know anyone except the bride, I asked her if I could bring my sister along.  But she was kind enough to allow me to bring my mother and husband as well!  I couldn’t be happier;  both mom and sister agreed.  Masood, however, was a bit reluctant.  Men and women were to be seated in separate ballrooms and he didn’t know anyone.  And when I told the bride over the phone how Masood felt, she assured me that her brothers will take good care of him.

So on Thursday evening, Masood and I went over to my parent’s house after work.  While mom prepared tea, I ironed 7 meters of fabric – my blue and pink saree (I’m so into wearing sarees since my recent trip to Hyderabad).  The hotel was in a prime location, hence it was easy to find our way.  The invitation said 8:30 pm, but we arrived by 10:30 pm (we left office at 9 pm, took sometime to get dressed,  plus 40 minutes on Shaikh Zayed Road due to traffic … there was a horrible accident, unfortunately).

Once inside the hotel, Masood was escorted into the men’s section while we (mom, sister and I) went into the ladies’.  It felt slightly awkward in the beginning;  I knew only the bride, whom I’ve never met before.  I walked straight ahead, smiling and greeting women as I pass them.  Then there was this particular woman who smiled very sweetly, so I approached her and asked, “Has *bride’s name* arrived already?”  I made it sound as if I knew the bride since birth.  “Oh yes, she’s in that room.”

Naturally, she was surrounded by a lot of women.  I looked at her … she looked very lovely, mashaAllah.  “So this is the lady behind that wonderful blog,”  I thought to myself.  Once the crowd around her started to lessen, I approached her and greeted her with a salaam.  We shook hands, and when I introduced myself to her as Nadia Masood, she gave me the sweetest smile.  Masood later told me that I should’ve introduced myself as “I’m the Purple Journal, wife of Thoughts from Dubai.” I introduced my mom and sister to her, and she introduced us to her mother and aunt.  I sat with her and we talked for sometime.  She’s amazing, mashaAllah, and I’m very much impressed.  One can not, however, sit too long with the bride since everyone wants to talk to her, hence I excused myself and joined my family at the table.

When my sister and I lined up for the buffet dinner, we heard a couple of ladies behind us speak Tagalog.  “There are a lot of Filipinos here,” my sister whispers.  “Should we speak to them?” I ask her.  At that moment, another lady – who didn’t look or dressed like a Filipino – walks up to the ladies behind us and start talking to them in Tagalog, much to their surprise.  “You’re a Filipino?” they asked.  “Yes, of course.”  “Half Filipino?” the astonished ladies asked, thinking she probably might be half Pakistani.  “No, I’m 100% Filipino!”  she laughed, yet the ladies still looked surprised.  My sister and I looked at each other, “If we go and tell them right now that we are also Filipinos, they’ll faint!” said my sister, specially with her wearing a very traditional shalwar kameez, me wearing a saree, and both of us having conversation in Urdu.  So we remained Pakistanis that night.

Oh, and Masood called me on the phone, “I’m alone here.  Please ask your friend who her brother is among these men.”  I walked over to the bride and she told me her brothers’ names, and that they were expecting Masood.  “One of my brother is the guy in black suit and red tie,” she added.  So Masood found her brothers, and when he introduced himself, they welcomed him.  Masood was pleasantly surprised when the father also knew him by name!  “So you are Mr. Masood!” he said cheerfully, “Come, let me introduce you to my friends.”  Thereafter, Masood enjoyed the evening.

Food was great, alhumdulillah.

The best part of the wedding reception was that it was very solemn:  men and women were in separate rooms, there was no music at all, no annoying photographers, everyone spoke softly, and nobody left food in their plates.  I was very much impressed.  I love her mom and aunt, very sweet ladies, mashaAllah.  They all made me and my family feel very comfortable.  Of course, it definitely helped that mom and sister came along.

We left around midnight.

To the bride and groom, thank you so much for making us part of this important moment of your lives.  May Allah bless your marriage with so much love, health and happiness.

A Pre-Wedding Party, Part 2

The bride remained carefully covered under a heavy veil, as per the tradition she strongly believed in, which I had mentioned in the previous post;  it felt slightly awkward speaking to her that way.  She could see us, but we saw only the movement of her head as she spoke.

10 pm

The bride’s family, along with 30 other women, finally arrived.  Three  hours late.

They brought a basket of flowers, and lots of candles with them.

They were heavily made up.

The sisters came in the room first.  Friend’s wife and I stood to greet them with a salaam – which they totally ignored – and walked past us towards the bride.  They didn’t really care who we were.  No introductions.

But one of the bride’s aunt was sweet enough to ask us how we were related to the groom.  “He’s a good friend of  my husband,” I told her.  She smiled a lot;  I liked her.

10:30 pm

The girls were still busy with their clothes, hair and makeup.  When they found some time in between those tasks, they busied themselves taking pictures of the veiled bride.

I sat in the corner with friend’s wife, bored and hungry.

I heard that the guys were having dinner in the other room.  Lucky people.

11 pm

I finally asked, “How do we get this party started?”  The women looked at each other.  The bride’s sister replied, “We will bring the bride to the living room, and have the groom sit besides her.  We will apply ubtan paste on the groom’s hands and face, and the ladies from his side will apply the paste on the bride.”

“The groom and the bride will sit together?”  asked the surprised mother-of-the-groom, “In Hyderabad, we don’t let them see each other until the nikah is done.”

“But that’s how we do it in Pakistan,” the bride’s sister insisted.

“But we don’t do it that way in India,”  the groom’s mom insisted.

The bride’s aunt gestured to the bride’s sister to quiet down, and said, “Let’s do it the way the groom’s mom wants it done.”

That’s when groom’s mom realized that someone was missing from the crowd, “Where’s the bride’s mother? Didn’t she come with you all?”

That’s when the girls giggled.  One of them said, “She’s sitting right next to the bride!”

The groom’s mother apologized, “Oh! I didn’t recognize you because of the makeup, sorry.”

11:30 pm

“Should we have dinner first?”  asked groom’s mother.

But the bride’s family weren’t hungry yet, “We will eat after the rasam.”

Groom’s mom looked at me and friend’s wife, “Let’s have dinner then.  They can eat later.”

Finally, we had dinner!  And it was a peaceful one too.  The food was yummy:  home-cooked chicken qorma.

Meanwhile, the ladies played loud music in the other room.

12 midnight

When friend’s wife and I joined the ladies after our dinner, we found the bride’s sisters and cousins dance to some Hindi song.  I looked around for groom’s mom, found her in the kitchen, and asked whether there was anything I could do to help.  I felt it was time they started the rasam, or whatever it was they intended to do that night (or early morning).

Groom’s mom brought out the bowl of ubtan paste, and entered the room where the ladies were still jumping dancing to the songs.  “How about we start now?” she asked the bride’s mom.

“How about we have dinner first?  I’m sure the girls are starving.”  And the girls happily agreed.

I wanted to hit something.

12:30 am

Friend’s wife and I helped groom’s mom with the gifts she brought for her new daughter-in-law.  Three suit-cases full of colorful, glittering sarees.  They all looked so pretty!  I love Indian sarees.  We arranged them carefully on the bed, then paired each one with matching sandals and glass bangles.  It was fun!

We were also shown the gorgeous bridal dress from India;  it was a blue and pink sharara.

1 am

I went in the other room to check on whether we could get the rasam started, and found the ladies sitting in groups, chatting and laughing.  The bride sat on the sofa, all covered up, texting away on her cellphone.  The children were running all over the place.

Obviously, nobody was in a hurry to return home.

1:15 am

I called Masood to pick me up.

1:30 am

I bid farewell to Aunty (the groom’s mom), explaining to her that it was too late already.  She asked me to stay a little longer;  I apologized for having to leave early.  We hugged, and she reminded me to attend the wedding.

On my way out, I found the bride’s mom.  “Acha main chalti houn, it was nice meeting you.”  She smiled and said, “Okay, Allah hafiz.”

And that’s how the exciting pre-wedding party came to an end – for me.