tan curve

2010-10-05T20:49:00.002+11:00

Sins are forgiven through Hajj. But so are sins forgiven in through fasting, in the last ten nights of Ramadan, on Fridays, first ten days of Dhul Hijjah, in the last one third of any night and pretty much whenever one asks for it sincerely enough. The key is in sincerity, a desperate willingness to be sin-free. If the sincerity and desperation is missing from Hajj then one will return with not an ounce of his sins reduced. Yet it is just so easy to get caught up with the flow of the events and not have time to purify the sincerity, intensify the desperation. Last one third of the night goes by every night, I cannot wake up, because I know there is a Friday at the end of the week when sins are forgiven. Fridays go by, I do not ask desperately enough because Ramadan is coming. Ramadan goes by, in the hope of the last ten nights. I let go of the last ten nights lightly, because I know more opportunities to have the sins wiped up, to have the barriers between me and my Lord lifted, to purify myself inside out is coming. I know there are still great opportunities left to have the prayers accepted.

My only fear is, what if I let go of that chance too?!

words that touch - 2

2010-06-16T15:15:00.001+10:00

"There is a reason why you have been given two ears and one mouth--to listen more and say less".

Breaking the cycle of procrastination

2010-06-15T17:14:00.006+10:00

More often then not, confessions about procrastination sounds cool. With every day approaching the mid-year exam period, I see more and more facebook status updates about endless procrastination and people joining in funny groups like 'If you should be studying right now, then join this group'.

I have always been a chronic procrastinator but somehow (read: with the blessing of the Most Merciful) I have always managed to escape, however narrowly. This narrow escape over and over again has been the positive reinforcement I did not need -- I learnt that I will be okay even if I procrastinate... just need to pray harder when I am about to suffocate under my self-created piles of work.

Being a chronic procrastinator I am very familiar with feelings of massive sense of relief, associated with narrow escapes. I don't remember a time when I felt that I have given my best effort in anything... starting from preparing for HSC to a month of Ramadan. It has always been one of relief with a tinge of (sometimes overwhelming) guilt and regret, at the lost opportunity of doing better 'had I given my best effort'.

I know procrastination is a learned habit. If I was given the opportunity of totally undoing any of learnings, learning to procrastination would be first in line. I want to stop procrastinating!

Last year, when I was preparing for the final months of Honours, I remember feeling the same. It was then that I came across this dua in the Fortress of the Muslims: "O Allah I seek refuge to you from helplessness, laziness, lethargy, cowardliness, niggardliness and burden of debts and from being overpowered by men".

As usual, I forgot all about the dua as soon as my Honours finished.

But, like now, every now and then I feel over and over again, that I need the acceptance of that dua now and always.

Islamonline.net has some nice advices on ways to overcome procrastination. Starts off with the reminder of a very scary Quranic ayah: "Is he - who was once dead and then We revived him (through the True knowledge) and thus We appointed for him a light whereby he walks among people - comparable to one who is steeped in darkness, never able to come out of it?" (Al - An'am: 122)

The procrastinators will recognise this feelings right away: "steeped in darkness, never able to come out of it".

I do end up doing the work at the end, but the inability to start the task when I should is something I have never overcome!

The advices from Islamonline that I hope to turn to action:

1. Best way to fight procrastination is to take immediate steps to do the thing one is postponing. By repeating it over and over again, one learns to break the habit. This process must continue until one has learned the new habit and thus it becomes a second nature.

2. Start the morning by praying to Allah to grant you a successful day full of blessings.
Hadith: "Shaytan puts three knots at the back of the head of any of you if he is asleep. On every knot he reads and exhales the following words, 'The night is long, so stay asleep'. When one wakes up and remembers Allah, one knot is undone; and when one performs ablution, the second knot is undone, and when one prays the third knot is undone and one gets up energetic with a good heart in the morning; otherwise one gets up lazy and with a mischievous heart'. [Bukhari]

3. Try to start your work after Fajr for the Prophet prayed to Allah, "O Allah bless my Ummah in their early morning endeavors."

Three easy steps, apparently.

Okay no one promised that. Most of the time when I try to fix my faltering Iman and deficient practices, I focus on too many things at once. But with a long hard look at my failings over the years, I know procrastination plays a major role. So, now I want to focus on this and just this. I see so many other girls around me with the same problem. Would've been nice if we could somehow help each other. But, alas, a procrastinator can only make another procrastinator feel good about herself!

So let me start the journey by myself. Most of the time I take plans but they become forgotten soon afterwards because they go out of sight in a hidden away onenote file. Now that I documented my expressed desire of breaking out of the habit of procrastination, hopefully it will keep motivating me to break out of the cycle of chronic procrastination.

Wish me luck.

2010-04-30T20:25:00.002+10:00

Afterthought upon reading this article: Thankfully Islamic Culture (according to the Traditional Islamic Texts) is surprisingly open and frank about our 'leaky bodies'.

2010-04-13T15:31:00.002+10:00

It was nice having the experienced aunties and apus giving me insights into marriage in the long run, but what disappointed me was the tone of warning of some of them (not all)--
-- enjoy your life, now that there is no children in sight
-- wait till a few more years have passed, he will stop pretending to be so nice
-- compromise and be patient, this life shouldn't be all about enjoyment, your reward will be in the life after death.
It disappointed me to hear those warnings and seeing the attitude of 'I know what horrible things lie ahead, you don't". At the same time my heart filled with hope and respect as some of aunties were so gracious about being married, so grateful that they are married, so happy that they are with their husbands, so appreciative of their husbands despite of years of life together (without being blind to their faults). I don't know how will I change in the next ten years or so (if I am still alive), but I never want to get tired of being married, never want to be wistful about the life before marriage, never want to get a big blow by a 'previously-unknown-horrible-side' of my husband. I always want to feel as I feel now, grateful that my husband is constantly bringing out the best of me, and I want to keep doing the same to him. I think it becomes easier to think that way if one comes out of the typical bangali attitude: marriage is the be all and end all. I see marriage as Allah's way of putting two random human beings together, giving an unaccounted for amount of love and mercy between them and testing them in the process. A believer is another believer's mirror, and the closest mirror is one's spouse. I think if one tries to remember that, then one is sure to stop complaining about their husbands to random people and seeking only Allah's help in loving and respecting their husbands, and asking only Allah to remove the faults that they dislike, along with timely reminders... and building a partnership that will benefit them both.
I only ask Allah that my husband's faults appear insignificant to my eyes and my faults to his.

2010-03-27T22:20:00.002+11:00

Having been back from the first day of an intense weekend course on Akhirah, I am quite shaken. I do want to stay this shaken for as long as can (in other words, forever), because I find it really hard to stay constant in my actions, words and motivation. One of the things that really shook me was the supplication of the Prophet (S) for a dead person he would come across, so that the departed soul is granted 'a better family' than his current one, and 'a better home' than his current home.

In other words, when there are some people in the family that are disproportionately less true in faith, then they can be forgotten and not missed at all, rather Allah will grant the rest of the more believing family members with another family that they much prefer over their previous family.

I shudder to think about that...

Or the humiliation after a life full of wrong deeds and disobedience, the humiliation that starts right from death. First the soul refuses to leave the body, then once its harshly torn out of the body, then it starts smelling bad and is cursed by angels. "When a person dies, then either the person is in comfort or other people who he departed are comforted by his departure". Dear God, do not make me one whose departure comforts a single innocent soul or creation.

And the life in the grave... simple things in life can make so much difference: firm steady faith and practice, recitation of Surah Mulk every night, speaking the truth, having a good character... all of these simple, consistent, daily efforts. Efforts that are so hard to make, but the consequence of not making which are so very severe...

Dear God, never let me lose the Akhirah, 'the other choice', from its right perspective...

words that touch: 1

2009-09-24T22:09:00.003+10:00

"When they rise to prayer, they rise reluctantly and only to be seen by people. They remember Allah but little". (Surah Nisa: 142)

How very scary...

2009-06-12T08:36:00.002+10:00

I came across something that I think wonderfully summarises my own thoughts on marriage:

Human potential is shaped by human interaction.
Relationships are a tool designed by God to refine us.
Marriage, used properly, is a people growing machine.

graffiti in Bangladesh

2009-05-25T10:49:00.005+10:00

bitter lessons of life 3
Originally uploaded by shondhabati

I love reading Graffiti in Bangladesh. They lack colour, but they never fail to tell you of the sincere pain that prompted such production.

I found that on the wall of an old building on top of a hill in 'himchori'.

It says: "Expected love has been pain today".
Poor guy , poor Romeo!
Is that really a Romeo case or is the 'expected love' the source of all pain?
Did he get the girl and discover she isn't at all what he expected?
Or was it the girl who refused to become his love and fulfill his expectations?

I discovered myself making up stories of the person behind the graffito. I assumed it was written by a guy because more often then not, in Bangladeshi context, they are written by guys.

bitter lessons of life 3
Originally uploaded by shondhabati

This one says "Troy will destroy ur life".
I will leave the interpretation to the discretion of the reader. I found this one on a seat in a local bus.

bitter lessons of life 2
Originally uploaded by shondhabati

This one says "Vondo" or "traitor/hypocrite/betrayer". I found it in the National Park in Gazipur.

craving love
Originally uploaded by shondhabati

I found this one particularly funny. Some dude named 'Farhad' left his mobile number with a small inscription "lack of love".
I hope some soft heart listened to the pining of his lonely heart and made a good use of the number!

wall
Originally uploaded by shondhabati

I don't think I should call it graffiti, wall painting sounds more appropriate. I found it on the wall of the Art college. Loved the intricate work.

Rants

2009-05-21T14:23:00.009+10:00

It was so coming but I still feel so sad!
House went to a mental health hospital last night, after having episodes of mixing up hallucination and reality and making a real mess--an ultimate outcome of his long history of drug abuse.
There was a big hole in my heart as he looked at Cuddy with bewildered eyes. The hole got even bigger as he quietly took off his watch and phone and handed them over to Wilson, then limped away towards the psychiatric hospital.
I got too attached with this fictional character. I would find myself hurrying home on Wednesday nights, lest I missed House. On more than one occasion, I begged Mr R to let me watch House instead of talking to him. Of course he would allow me, but I think he got a tad bit jealous--putting a fictional Doctor over the real Doctor of my life! How dare I! (Men... *sigh*) Now that House is off to a psychiatric hospital, he must be immensely relieved. It became apparent last night, as I was pouting and telling him how sad I was for House. He neither offered any consolation nor showed any sign of remorse. Heartless man! *sniff sniff*.

I am planning for revenge. I WILL make him fall for House and feel as sad I am feeling! All I need is a carefully woven plan *evil smile*. I tried that before leaving BD, but when we went to buy the DVDs of the first season and started previewing the DVDs, there appeared girls in swimming costume and a few other not-so-ideal scenes. He looked at me and smirked--"is this really what you want me to see?"
I had to back out. I need to screen the episodes first before recommending him any :(.

******************

My dad is gifted with an extraordinary ability--being able to sleep anywhere and anytime. All of us would be watching TV on high volume, including my dad, but before long he would doze off, still sitting in upright position. He has records of sleeping off in prayers, even while standing. I have seen him sleeping with books open in front of him or while working on the computer. He sleeps with room full of people chattering away, even if some conversations are directed towards him. He would sleep for seven full hours, but still wake up with red eyes, in dire need of more sleep.

I have seen my parents going through some pretty harsh times but my dad never had trouble sleeping.

My mum is the complete opposite. Just a hint of trouble and she can't sleep. Before I got married, as my parents were discussing proposals, my mum would pass night after night, sleepless, turning and tossing restlessly in the bed.

Just around this time last year, I was having trouble sleeping. I haven't slept any more than four hours nightly while I was in Malaysia and Singapore, no matter how hard I tried to make the conditions favourable for sleeping. My future was about to take a turn I didn't anticipate before, I wasn't even sure if it really was going to take that turn. I wanted so badly to know, to be sure, just so that I could be more focused on that tasks at hand and plan ahead, but there was nothing else I could do... after all I did more than what I should've done! No matter how hard I tried to ward off the thoughts, they were always there, leaving me sleepless and restless.

I had similar troubles after my final exams last semester (of course not before that. traditionally my sleep is the deepest around exam time), right when I thought I would sleep uninterrupted for hours and days. That kept on happening right through my days in Bangladesh, to the night before I got married. Even amongst crisis for space due to a large influx of relatives, I got a room on my own, with soft prepared bed, mossy nets and windows tightly closed. I would go to bed making sure I was really really tired, still I could not bring myself to sleep. Even if I succeeded in sleeping, I would have a horrible dream and wake up with a start, feeling forlorn and confused.

I was so sure I was taking after my mother! I never failed to blame her for passing off the genes full of insomniac tendency.

But only till I got married...

Then Mr R would work for 20 hours, while I blissfully slept every now and then, only to find myself having difficulty keeping my eyes open when Mr R finally got back home to his newly-wed-wife. I remember once falling asleep while my mother-in-law was speaking to me, another time while one of his cousin was speaking to me (for the first time too). I even slept through the night before leaving BD *sigh*.

Now I always seem to suffer from sleep debt. Missed fajr twice this month. Always wake up with dark circles under my eyes and a jammed head. I frequently fall asleep while talking to Mr R (and suddenly wake up to find him holding his breath and smiling cheekily at the computer screen). I sleep on my way to and from uni... even in the middle of conversations with Emu (that WAS embarrassing)!

I can only blame my dad for passing off the sleepy genes.

Or must it be Mr R, for having an unaccountable effect on my sleeping pattern/circadian rhythm/pineal gland?

feeble attempt of disciplining the self

2009-05-16T22:25:00.003+10:00

Trying to make black and white of the grey areas is a damn silly thing to do, because there are some things that are made to be grey.

some Wilde moments

2009-05-16T22:18:00.002+10:00

"It is better to be beautiful than to be good. But ... it is better to be good than to be ugly. OSCAR WILDE, The Picture of Dorian Gray"

I skimmed through this quote a few days ago, while making a mental note, I have to get back to that. Was he being sarcastic? I haven't read him, so don't know the actual context, but most people seem to think so. Socially better? I think not. May bring some temporary advantage though, an advantage when you are a public figure may be, or when you never really mingle with people. But if you do, if you prefer to have a few close friends, or like participating in grueling discussions that will reveal the core of your heart, then beauty doesn't help. Beauty and sincerity is good; beauty, charm and sincerity is even better; but beauty, charm and wickedness is the worse possible combination. It is better to be naïve, downright sincere and ugly. Or at least I think so.

(I kept reading through the Oscar Wilde quotes until I formed the resolution that I must read his stuff. So what I ain't an English major?)

"The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. OSCAR WILDE, The Picture of Dorian Gray"
(If he was living today, he would see very few living people disagreeing with him)

"Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes. OSCAR WILDE, Lady Windermere's Fan"
(People are getting too good at the use of this euphemism these days… I get confused, frequently enough).

"All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. OSCAR WILDE, The Importance of Being Earnes"
(Really? I won't consider that a tragedy to its entirety, but in some cases that sure would be fatal...)

"I can resist everything except temptation. OSCAR WILDE, Lady Windermere's Fan"
(He said what I had to say :$.)

"Pleasure is Nature’s test, her sign of approval. When man is happy, he is in harmony with himself and his environment. OSCAR WILDE, The Soul of Man Under Socialism"
(Man, why couldn't he say Allah instead of Nature? We could've tried promoting him as a secret Muslim.)

"Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative. OSCAR WILDE, Aristotle at Afternoon Tea"
(Then I would rather be unimaginative!)

"To get back my youth I would do anything in the world, except take exercise, get up early, or be respectable. OSCAR WILDE, The Picture of Dorian Gray"

"A map of the world that does not include Utopia is not worth even glancing at, for it leaves out the one country at which Humanity is always landing. OSCAR WILDE, The Soul of Man Under Socialism"

"There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about. OSCAR WILDE, The Picture of Dorian Gray"
(Still, I would rather be not talked about!)

"The public have an insatiable curiosity to know everything, except what is worth knowing. Journalism, conscious of this, and having tradesman-like habits, supplies their demands. OSCAR WILDE, The Soul of Man Under Socialism"
(Man, how did I become so average?)

"As long as war is regarded as wicked, it will always have its fascination. When it is looked upon as vulgar, it will cease to be popular. OSCAR WILDE, The Critic as Artist"
(Let's see if and when that happens).

getting over zoophobia

2009-05-14T07:50:00.007+10:00

(Zoophobia is apparently the fear of animals, not zoo.)

I have always been scared of dogs. I am not talking about the biting kind of dogs. I am talking about the health conscious and friendly sort, those who go walking with their owners in a cheerful mood and try to befriend anyone in the vicinity. I don't appreciate the effort, I quicken my pace. Dogs think its a game I am playing with them and start being even friendlier by chasing me. I run faster, my heart thumping against my chest. Dogs chase faster. Its a vicious cycle.

I could argue being scared of dog is an instinctive reaction. But I think its really a consequence of being chased by three dogs at the age of ten. I saved myself by locking myself in the bathroom.

I got scratched by a cat when I was even younger. I was just standing innocently, wondering at random things. Someone else made a 'shoo away' gesture to the cat that was staring at the food and the cat decided to run over my innocent toes. My toes started bleeding. My grandfather's sister in law insisted on making me eat some bitter herbs to 'stop the poisoning'. So I learnt my lesson: do not stay anywhere near cats, you will end up bleeding and eating strange herbs.

I got scratched by a monkey at four. I went to the zoo, found the monkeys very interesting so perhaps went a bit too close to the cage. A little cheeky one spared no opportunity. Next thing I remember is the smell of detol and a tingling feeling on my upper arm.

I had a scar just below the knee because some poisonous caterpillar tried to walk on my legs to save some walking. I counted eleven tiktiki (wall lizards) in my small room in Dhaka, they would jump on my table (once on my head) whenever they felt like it. The frogs in our bathroom in Dhaka didn't know any manners. They would come out and start doing high jumps right when you are in a critical situation.

I could go on and on... but the point is, animals don't like me. They always try scaring me or inflicting harm on me in one way or other. It should be of no surprise then that I only like wondering at their beauties and cuteness from metres away. Or I used to.

Until I learnt to pick up the cute white-bodied-red-eyed little rats in the lab. The first few attempts were disastrous. I uttered a few supplications, gathered all my mental strength and tried to grab the ratties with sweaty hands. I made previous observations of them being pretty good, easily climbed on all the others. But as soon as it was me, they started running frantically, jerking their bum, turning their head and reaching out for my hand with their sharp teeth. I was scared out of my wits.

The animal handling trainer started laughing, "They can sense you are scared! You have to pick them up with confidence with a firm hand. And hold them close to your body, they don't have disease!"

After days of shaky hands, I finally reached the stage of just laying my hand and the little raties all gather around my hand, sniffing and trying to climb on it. It feels so great to be trusted by an animal.

Then I figured the main reason of my fear of animals. I don't understand why they behave the way they behave. It was the classical case of 'fear of unknown'.

I sometimes wonder if gaining the trust of rats will be the only thing I achieve from a year worth of hard labour termed 'Honours'.

lessons of life: part 1

2009-05-14T07:17:00.012+10:00

Never reveal too much about yourself to someone who is unwilling to share anything about herself. It is more likely be a sign of her not being interested in sharing and bonding, not of introversion.

p.s. Naivity is BAD for your health.
p.s.s. Insincerity is worse.

love is in the air

2009-02-26T13:27:00.005+11:00

My newly acquired nephew, who, if you ask his age will immediately respond with a shy smile: “My age is three years and nine months”, had an early lesson, a bit too early. He learnt about marriage and became very interested in getting married himself. Few weeks after seeing his uncle undergoing this strange procedure called ‘marriage’, he sat down with his grandmother and declared, confidingly, he is interested in getting married. He even showed the couch where he intends to sit his bride on that grand occasion. He added a bit shyly that his grandmother must ask his mother to let him sit down beside ‘his bride’. He wants to sit beside her and feed her sweets.

Poor child, he has to wait another 20 years or so before his mother lets him do any such thing!

This child never stops surprising me. I have no idea what can he possibly comprehend with his relatively smooth frontal lobe, but I can tell, he becomes very embarrassed if he accidentally sees his uncle showing any sign of affection towards me.

However, he himself is an expert in his expression of affection. The day before I was leaving my husband’s homeland, I couldn’t stop tears from rolling down my cheek when my teary mother-in-law was stroking my head with great affection. Then this little guy climbed on his mother’s lap and put his small arms around my neck, hugged me and kissed my face with his soft lips, as if, he is prepared to heal any of my wound with his affection alone!

Such an adorable little one!

He is just one of the little gifts Allah bestowed on me lately. My mother-in-law, Ammu as I call her, is a woman whose face and words are reflections of her clean and affectionate heart. The very first day she came to see me she emptied her own drink on my glass. I immediately felt the warmth of her heart. When I first went to her house, she insisted on feeding me with her own hand. I was feeling shy, such gestures of affection are generally unheard of in Bangladesh. It is generally the brides who are expected to take care of their mother-in-laws like queens, but mother-in-laws usually treat their daughter-in-laws neither as princesses nor as daughters.

That day I recognised the origin of my husband’s endless capacity of loving and giving.

I must also mention the other mother I lately acquired, my uncle’s wife in relation, but her husband and my uncle conducted my marriage ceremony, which entitled him with the special honour of ‘Ukeel Baba’ according to Bangladeshi custom. My marriage ceremony was held in their house. I have never seen any other couple comparable in their ability of giving so warmly. Specially my aunty, Nargis mami has helped us, the young couple in her own discreet ways. Starting from helping me make the decision of joining with my life partner to helping our romance to survive and flourish in every possible way. She would scold me like a real mother if I spent too long in the bathroom while my husband waited for me, sometimes she would prepare our meal in a tray and tell me to take that to the seclusion of our room, only so that we get a little more privacy. Of course she would never admit that, ‘its only so that I like my kitchen clean, but the kids are running around here, they will go crazy at the sight of food’. I will never forget her long talks on what makes a relationship click (hint: the c word). During our very long stay in her house, I have never felt uncomfortable, always had plenty of food on the table, and never saw the beautiful smile fading from her face. I knew her to be a strong woman with complete control over her emotion, but she was weeping the day I was leaving!

Of course my parents have done everything in their capacity to ensure all these love for me, the best gift any parents can give. And they haven’t washed their hands off me yet, they are still pouring grease to make my journey smooth. I cannot explain how their eyes light up every time they look at the happy and content me.

I have been restraining myself long enough from saying anything about the centre of this post--my friend and life partner. He is a blessing in my life. It has been less than two months, but we don’t even have to look at each other to understand each other, despite of all the differences in cultural context or lack of time spent together. All I can say is, it is entirely Allah’s giving. He knows how to make me feel 100%, complete and he spared no opportunity of doing so in last couple of months. I love his wit, his jokes, his unique way of relating things, his ability to adopt, his soft heart. Of course there are a few things I don’t like about him, but thank god for those, because they are superficial, minor and changeable flaws. Allah is merciful enough to make him an erroneous human through those and not any other major ones.

I thank Allah for granting me the best of the best.

I miss him. A lot.

2008-09-11T09:18:00.003+10:00

A lot of memories attached with this photo. It reminds me of my daily walks in the morning. Of the faithful Bata leather thong that I wore for 6 years but managed to break in one of my walks. I had to pin up the straps of that thong with my hijab pins to keep the pieces together (in a manner that I often saw Bangladeshi shoe makers fixing sandals... ) until I went to a local store to buy this black one for 5 ringgits. Poor Steve had a real shocked look in his face when he saw me trying to pin up my thong. It reminds me of the pleasant sensation I felt while standing there. It was where the cool stream water mixed with the warm sea water. While one of my foot was being gently caressed by the cool water, the other foot was being brushed by the surge of warm water, every now and then. And of my lost camera pouch. I got this hideous looking pouch for $11 after loosing my elegant pouch in a walk to Sultan mosque.

oh sunny, sunny days! (3)

2008-08-08T15:05:00.012+10:00

I finally managed to get myself started on writing about Tioman, I am not getting off before I finish! I don't care even if you are begging me to stop! What got me started today, 3 weeks after my return, is my earphone. I brought them from home to listen to a few missed lectures but I could not hear anything more than whispers. Then I remembered, how I wrecked my precious ipod headphones in Tioman.

We were all free that afternoon. My friend S from England was very tired after her extensive snorkeling. But of course, it is no fun sleeping in your air-conditioned rooms in a bright, sunny afternoon like that. So she insisted we should have a nap in one of the seats near the sea. There were some in five minutes walk from the resort, I have never seen anyone occupying those, and so, good for a quiet nap!

The breeze was so beautiful when we got there! Leaves were falling off the tree and flying away with the wind! The gentle murmur of the sea was so soothing! I snapped away, but failed to capture anything of the tremendous beauty.

Anyway, after a while my German friend A joined us. She wanted to listen to what I listen, so I gave her a taste of Bengali songs, a few of them. She would listen to each of them and ask, 'what is this song about?' I got tired of saying the same things--God, love, country! I wish we had a bit more originality! When we were immersed in our discussion about songs, we saw a friend walking by and wanted to join them. I walked up to them and started talking when A pulled my shirt and pointed to the ground. My precious ipod headfones were dangling from the pouch, the earplugs were covered in sand! God knows how many times I trampled on them too!

There goes the story of my biggest loss in Tioman! Let me resume uploading more photos... do you like my favourite place? No matter how sunny the day was, the breeze of the sea made it a very cool place.

This is where I made friend out of a local Malaysian old lady. She gave me a 'kochuri pana' (I do not know the English name!) as a token of her love!

With my little Indonesian, I loved talking to the locals. They loved talking to me--the local villagers were Muslims so my head scarf made them feel close to me. I asked a young guy about his feelings on the the alcohol business... it was so painful for me to see how normally they served alcohol to their Western guests, sometimes taking a sip or two with them. His cliched response--my faith is in my heart! God will understand! I loved their simplicity, their friendliness, their love, I did not feel like a foreigner amongst them. It was painful to see my people forgetting themselves...

Anyway, there was a small island (about a square kilometer) near Tioman. I am not sure if it is fair to call that an island because during low tide, you could walk to that by only wetting your feet. The sand in the island was so smooth and soft! And the water near it so green!

I would start walking on the shore from the morning and the whole day the frills of my skirt or legs of my jeans would be soaked with sea water and sand! Surprisingly, the sticky feelings did not make me feel unclean :), I felt rather fresh and purified! Sea water and sand--you can attain spiritual purity with both, that's why I guess ;).

oh sunny, sunny days! (2)

2008-08-08T14:38:00.008+10:00

We were there for 7 days. Some days I would deliberately leave my camera in my room just to stop myself from taking photos. I wanted to feel every moment, but I also wanted to save all of it in my gray cells so that I could savour them later. Now that I set a new record by losing 2 wallets in 3 months, you know why I cannot put my full trust on my gray cells. I ended up taking over 500 photos.

We were kept in one of these huts. My room was on the middle one in the picture.

Must mention, this resort being in Malaysia was such a blessing for me... Halal food ready on table--what luxury! I didn't have to scrutinize the ingredients even when I had the yummiest ice-cream! A glimpse of the menu for my beloved readers. Read them at your own risk! he he.

And the very stylish dining table for buffet meals three times a day! (I couldn't take the picture when the table was full... the temptation was too great.)

Oh, did I mention, it was all free for me (us) in the island? :P

I should stop teasing and say Alhamdulillah. Bad Tancurve!

But let me complete the set with a few shots of the sea-side-dining-area ;).

oh sunny, sunny days! (1)

2008-08-08T13:23:00.026+10:00

Let me begin the tale of Tioman with this photo. Tioman, being a tropical island had heaps of coconut trees. Those in the resort had this warning sign nailed on them. Sometime in the past a western head must have been cracked open by a hardy ripe coconut. Locals learnt their lessons, now you see the proof. Everyone with a camera took a photo of this.

Its raining outside today, the cold, pointy, hurting rain of Sydney, and I am terribly missing my days in Tioman. What fun days! So peaceful yet lively, so close to nature! Of course we had to work as well, but the field works were fun too, and the amount of free time we had was pretty good.

I would take a walk every morning by myself and meet such wonders... small and big. I have seen crab in the sand before, but never before have I seen butterflies sniffing the sand.

The sea would look so different for a slight shift of the sun, for the shade of a little piece of cloud or just a few floating ship, that my index finger was always on the shutter.

A few snapshots of the beautiful sunset...

Which soul wouldn't be in awe of her Creator when faced with such beauty?

(This post is getting too long. Since I have little to say and a lot to show, I will break down this post to a few episodes).

venting

2008-06-21T10:40:00.001+10:00

What business it is of people to judge me and talk about me? I can "understand" their concerns. But I cannot accept people talking about me in such a way that distresses my parents. Me, an unmarried girl, traveling for study purposes, even though with a group, is not acceptable to many Islamic scholars, yes. But it is acceptable to 'some', since I am not by myself, and traveling with a group of predominantly girls. I could not see why it won't be allowed. My parents were convinced, so here I am, in Singapore. My mother, who already lost sleep over me, because it is the first time I am living away for home (even though only for six weeks), is being further tormented by people, their vicious, malicious tongue, concealed with apparent concern. This morning when I heard Ma's voice, I felt like flying back home. I did not force them to let me come. I only wanted very much to come, but I would have listened to a 'no', if they felt strongly about it. But I was not told a 'no', and now, people are making my good parents regret their decision with the power of their tongues? Sweet. May Allah reward such powerful tongues.

2008-04-29T07:37:00.001+10:00

I feel sooooo angryyyyy and helpless!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

the fascinating brain of us

2008-03-14T22:53:00.004+11:00

Last two years of my degree were spent on foundation studies for neuroscience. I haven't focused on neuroscience, rather did an overview of human physiology, anatomy and psychology. This year my focus will be human brain, in terms of anatomy, physiology and psychology.

Its one week to the semester, the first week went fine (don't they always?). I think I am going to love my subjects this semester (well, just thinking. wait till I reach week 5...). I am doing this degree because human brain, its psychology and physiology fascinates me so much. There are generally a lot of interesting facts that I learn everyday. I come home and shower them on my poor family members, during dinner. Baba is always a keen listener but the others... (sigh). Ask them a minute later, they won't be able to recall a thing. So, I decided to write down some interesting facts I learn every week. Initially I get immensely fascinated by any cool facts. Once they get old, I take them for granted and completely forget they used to enthral me much once upon a time! So, writing down the facts and my thoughts on them while they are still fresh and fantastic could provide a source of entertainment for future. I am sure I will find all these very silly at the end of the semester, many of my contemplation will be proved wrong. That would be fun to read :).

I think this fact should come first--our brain changes every time we learn something new.

It can be a structural change, so a new connection can be formed, others disconnected, or it could be a functional change--some neuron in the brain learn to act differently.

I found this quite baffling. So for every single name, face, hurt, love, passion, skill, hatred, anger that I learnt... my brain actually got changed! So, our brain literally gets 'scarred' from bitter experience! The hole that unrequited love leaves us feeling are resulting from some physical connections burnt in our brain! There is a hadith which says for every sin, the heart is marked with a black scar. We can pray for forgiveness and the marks are eventually washed away by the mercy of God. What happens then? Do the connections get weakened? They certainly don't get wiped up because we still have memory of the sin. Lost innocence it is, marked right on your brain! Dwell on that, the connections regenerate and eventually get stronger! Bugger! That's why they ask you not to delve onto bad memories much!

Fact number two: Female brains are physically smaller than male brains!

It is not simply because females are generally shorter and smaller, our brains are proportionally smaller than male brains! There are fewer grey matter (neurons and glia cells) in female brains . My god, I do not know what exactly does that mean! But the implication can be, males are capable of holding much more information in their brain plus processing them with greater efficiency. I do not know! But the good news for now is, that's not all. Male brains have fewer left brain-right brain correspondence, that is, female brains have more connections between the two hemispheres, left brain and right brain. No wonder females are multi tasked and way better at remembering relevant info while fighting!

Fact number three: Quoting Darwin: "The eye to this day gives me a cold shudder"... He could not explain how eyes could have evolved. To this day there isn't any single theory the evolutionists agree upon in terms of the evolution of eyes. The eyes of all different species can not seem to have evolved from a single point, evolution of eyes do not fit in the picture of evolution theory!

Eyes, yes, I will learn about eyes!

More facts: We have two areas on the left side of the brain, dedicated for speech. One of them is for understanding speech and producing coherent speech that every body else understands. The other is for controlling our tongue, larynx and lips in certain ways that allows us to produce speech. So all the people who loose their ability to speak after having a stroke loose this part of the brain--the part for movement of speech related organs. Even though they cannot speak a word and stare with a painful, mute look, they have complete awareness of their inability. they understand everything that goes around them. That must be excruciating!
The other type of inability of formation of speech is less common, that is the loss of the brain part that helps us understand speech, what people say and what we say. If people loose this part of the brain then they speak gibberish. They speak in ga ga language, like a six months old infant. They think they are making perfect sense, but to us they will seem to be speaking in a foreign language. Its like falling on a different planet all of a sudden!

One more fact: Till yesterday human brains looked like a messy mass of squiggly lines to me. I thought human brains are like guts. There is a lot of mass so they get folded, without any particular direction, reason or shape. But apparently, the grooves are common amongst all of our brains! There will be minor differences, but we generally have similar pattern in the brain! And each of those bumps are responsible for a massive task like vision or smell.

I learnt more but I think I should stop now. Or else I will never feel like reading these facts again, even for a laugh.

botanical garden

2008-03-08T23:02:00.008+11:00

The last last time I went to botanical garden, I was sketching a tree that I never got to finish sketching. I went there because I was feeling very weary and tired, of uni and other decision making complications... then I went to sit on a seat under the tree. The seat was very old and shockingly hard, my bones started to ache after a while. So I decided to lie down under a tree, on the soft grass and read a book. When I read books and enjoy doing so, I am completely unaware of the world around me. But shortly afterwards, due to a strange sensation of being 'watched', I had to look up from my book. What I saw gave me a fright of a life time. At least twenty ducks (or some bird of that sort) were closing in around me, from all different directions. They were staring at me! That sideways stare, they cannot stare using both of their eyes at the same time, so they stare with with one eye, then they turn their heads to stare through other eye. They kept doing that while closing in around me! My mind swiftly brought back images from 'megh boleche jabo jabo'. The main character of the book was bitten by ducks, consequently he was scarred for the rest of his life. I was preparing to get scarred when the ducks suddenly lost interest in me. They started pecking the grass and with every peck they seemed to find some food. Soon they left, just like they came, all at once. When I thought I could finally resume reading, I felt a crawling sensation on my right arm, I looked and frantically threw my arm. There was a small crawling caterpillar. I discovered the next caterpillar on my book, and before discovering any more from surprising locations, I left that place.

I walked around for a while before finding a nice seat under a nice, big, shadowy tree. The seat was facing the harbour, so I could feel the wet, salty wind of the sea. As soon as I sat there, a tree caught my eyes. It was a normal tree but I saw many colours in it, simply because I was drawing a lot back then. I saw the colours, some due to the light and shade, some for the surface of the tree, some for being exposed to rain and weathering... I started drawing. The first one hour was impressive, but I did not get to finish sketching. A health enthusiastic appeared from nowhere, hung his stuff on the tree I've so carefully chosen and started kickboxing with sound affects. The serenity of the place was gone. Shattered into pieces. I had to abandon drawing.

I thought I would go there again to finish my precious art work, but I ended up going there again only yesterday, after a loooong time, that too... looking for... ahem... the 'ladies' for a friend of mine. We found that before any accident happened. Once free of all pains, we walked around for a fair bit of time, appreciating the nature around us. We even took pictures of our feet submerged on the green, soft grass of autumn. The seat in the picture got our attention. Before long we were seated on the chair as emu was taking a photo of the rest of the gang. We were inwardly wishing for a kind photographically helping hand when a kind old lady appeared with a huge camera in her hand and asked if we wanted her to assist in photo taking business. We happily agreed. Next thing she asks--if we mind her taking our photo with her camera!
We did not object. A bunch of giggling hijabi girls in sydney royal botanical garden must have been too much of an interesting specimen.

Oh, the spider was there too.

2008-03-05T14:43:00.003+11:00

I decided to do peer mentoring for the poor first year students this year. I remember myself in my first year. I was lost, I got daunted by my computing labs full of computer-games-playing-geeks, I despised uni, I did not turn up to the lectures. I would come back home as soon as possible. Days when I knew mother deary would be angry at me for missing lectures, I would simply go and spend the day at the harbour side or sit all day in front of a computer in the library. I was pathetic. Well, I had a shock just before uni started, one of personal life. I know now, I should have taken the semester off as that shock meant my entire future plan got unsteady. I no longer felt like doing my degree, I was unsure and confused about everything. I brooded so much, thinking over what could have been, what haven't been and what should've been that I grew into a complete hermit. By the time I realised, all the new first years were paired up. I was lonely, lost and absolutely hating my degree plus uni.

So I am doing peer mentoring. Now that I am steady at my feet, I hope I can help the first years settle in by giving them practical advices. I stumbled, one who has not stumbled cannot give true, empathetic advices to a stumbled one. This is my asset and aspiration.

Yesterday we had peer mentoring training for science students. I met some interesting people. I saw this guy, W, who came up to give me the name tag, I instantly recognised him (I have a very good memory of faces, but alas, I am so bad at remembering names!). He was my lab partner in first year chemistry! I am sure he did not recognise me, because I did not turn up to half the labs. I must have been such a disappointment! I did not go through the pain of introducing myself and trying to bring back bitter memories!

Then, during the ice breaker exercise I had to be partnered with a south American dude who kind of scared me. We were supposed to ask of each other about our passions, I said I loved reading books. What kind of books? I named some classics that I had been reading lately but poor guy did not recognise anything. May be I should have mentioned Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I did not. I did not get the chance too. He is one of those people who always seem to be in a hurry without any reason. He was breathlessly asking questions and then adding on himself, as if we were running out of time and had to get done as much as possible. As for what he liked to do? Salsa... he said that with such a salsa attitude, smiling a sly smile, jerking the head and winking, and swaying his body in an almost salsa movement, that I got scared. I waited for the time to be up, so that I could move on to the next person, while stiffly admitting, I adore Spanish string music. Those are very sweet. I did not have to wait for long, we were asked to move on. I felt somewhat relieved I pretended not to notice his outstretched hand as he offered to shake hands with me while introducing himself. I put my hand in my chest in an apologetic manner, murmured a sorry and quickly moved on to introducing myself. He soon forgot about the hand shaking business. I felt it would take a long explanation for him if I were to explain the reason why I 'could not' shake hands. I am still so very bad at this! I still do not know how to prevent offense, for my explanation never sounds convincing. If any one does not get offended, it's entirely that person's credit--his own tolerance and acceptance.

We had a small session on cross cultural communication. The trainer explained how in many cultures looking directly into the eyes is disrespectful, what do different body languages mean, all the different cultural ettiquets and making room for accepting all. He was asking for first hand experiences from people, when this guy sitting right next to me started narrating how he once went to give his dear friend a farewell hug with purest of intentions, but the girl went into a flurry, flinging her arms around and screaming... 'no no!'. As it turns out she was Muslim! Later, she sent an email explaining the reason of her behaviour. I was the only Muslim in the room of thirty people (Muslims don't volunteer in un-Muslim events :P), wearing hijab and sitting right next to him so all the eyes were on me! Even though I was smiling and found a certain degree of humour in the narration, my cheeks were burning with embarrassment. Is there any better way to deal with this kind of situation? One of my Irish cousins gave me a farewell hug once. He is younger than me by a year. If he had offered me one, I could have rejected. But poor guy was so emotional, he tried to speak bangla during his stay, stole a place in every one's heart and gave me the gentle hug with so much confidence and brotherly love that I waited for a while before pulling away. That was definitely a bad time to explain why he should not do that!

The complicacy of human interaction makes me feel like going on a hiding at times, at other times--this very thing draws me in to seek more of it!

I insist on writing because...

2008-03-04T20:01:00.005+11:00

When I went to Bangladesh two years ago, my cousins and friends were laughing at my Bengali speaking skill which they declared to be 'bideshi bangla'. Apparently I used too many English words in my sentences, there was a slight foreign accent in my Bengali too. One of my little cousins even offered to record the way I said few words and listen to those over and over again, she, admiring (or mocking?) my strange accent so much. I remember trying to write a letter to a friend in bd three years ago. I gave up after half an hour, as I glanced into the paper and could not decide whether it was a Bengali letter or English, for the proportion of both words seemed to be equal.

It is very distressing when the languages get tangled up. I, who loved Bengali literature and read more than almost anyone of my age by the age of fifteen, that me could not speak or write in correct, beautiful Bengali any more... the truth was excruciating. It was at that stage that I discovered a Bengali blogging site. I was doing part time uni then and most (or should I say all?) of my spare time would be spent in reading or writing in Bengali. Now I speak in impeccable Bengali. My fingers raise a storm in the keyboard every time I start writing Bengali. I do not have to stop to think before writing anything, as the language of my mind is, once again, Bengali. It was possible merely due to the huge amount of time I devoted in reading and writing and forming arguments in Bengali.

I know nobody reads my English blogs at present time, for they neither have content nor do they do justice to the beauty of English language. Yet, I insist on writing here because I feel I must be as comfortable with English, as I am with Bengali. It is very painful to be unable to express oneself the way one wants to. I feel my english is poor enough to give a wrong impression about my personality. People often misinterpret introvert personality to be a proof of a person having nothing to say since they bear an empty head in their neck. I am a quiet person, specially when it is a large group. My soft voice is to be blamed, often people cannot hear what I say. Repeating the same thing again and again is annoying. I would rather not say anything. On top of that, if my primary comfort and confidence does not lie in the language I am communicating in, the extent of quietness is greatly increased. But I know I am a people person. The career path I am choosing is leading me to a direction where I have to communicate with people. My vocal cord cannot be changed but I can choose to be more comfortable with the language I have to communicate in. It was possible for me to regain strength (or gain it to the extent that I never had) in Bengali just because I dwelt upon it so much. And so I decided, I will blog, in my unrefined English, until I read myself and think... yep, that's me!

boredom

2008-02-20T08:48:00.002+11:00

I had two opportunities to get out of house today, but ended up taking neither. Instead, staying home all by myself and looking for something useful to do. I poked around for a good half an hour... none of my contacts are online, no new readable post in SWI, I am not in mood for learning Arabic vocab, reading classic does not sound too appealing either... that leaves me with nothing else to do but blog. Not very useful, but at least this is something that I feel like doing right now.

I was supposed to go watch rendition with my uni friends today. Yesterday when I told ma about it she clearly demonstrated her disapproval. So I decided not to go. Not that I never do anything she does not like or ask for permission before doing every little thing. But making her unhappy by going to watch a movie that I will be watching at home in few months was clearly unnecessary. So I decided to give that a miss. All my other friends are at maroubra today, I did not go there either. Maroubra plan has been planned and cancelled too many times which really annoyed me. I like swift planning like snapping of the finger... if u really want to go, then plan and go! If something needs too long to be planned, then I lose my interest in that. But now, staying home all by myself I am beginning to think may be going was a better idea!

But its too late for that now.

Perhaps I can lie down, with Jane Eyre in my hand. I started reading English classics. Most of the people had the pleasure of reading them in High school. Me, migrating at 15, hardly had the chance. Year 10,11,12 flew as I groped with English as a language to speak in, to study in. The only classics I read while in high school were--Emma, The Great Gatsby, Tempest and Macbeth. Recently I began to feel one must have a good knowledge of the classics in order to have some real confidence about a language. Classics take one to the depth of a language, that nothing else can replace. So, this holiday I began with Wuthering Heights, North and South, Sense and Sensibility, read a fair bit of Gorgette Heyer and now landed unto Jane Eyre.

I read Bengali classics way before I started reading any English books outside my textbooks.
I always enjoyed Bengali classics and historical novels. May be that is why I am enjoying all I am reading now.

My boredom is not to be cured by blogging, I better get up and find something else to do.

need another one like that

2008-02-06T09:13:00.000+11:00

Out of all the Islamic courses I have done, I saw an unparalleled effect upon myself by the alkauthar course, 'Purification of the Soul' delivered by Surkheel Sharif. Its a pity he does not take too many courses. I only found a handful of his speeches or articles online. Then again, since I had the opportunity of taking the knowledge from him, face to face, hand in hand, I do not feel satisfied with just his voice or typed up words. Taking knowledge from a teacher through direct interaction is really very different from learning from books or listening to a pre-recorded audio. A teacher passes down his knowledge through his entire personality, every single gesture. I liked Surkheel Sharif's honesty, humbleness, constant self review, confidence, all in all his overall personality, as much as I saw. He sounded very respectful and caring towards everyone. When a charity organisation came up at the end of his speech, he declared, 'Now this is what I consider real work'. However we would like to deny it, the embarrassing truth is, many Muslim men do not know how to respect a woman as a human. But, I am sure every woman in that room felt very honoured and found nothing offensive (that they had to reason with in their head in order to keep respecting the speaker) in anything Surkheel Sharif said.
I remember him shyly admitting he is not a very social person, yet when he spoke he sounded like he enjoys being a teacher and speaking about his passion. I remember him frankly admitting, being a teacher and refraining from ostentation and pride is very difficult. He tried his best, nevertheless, found it hard. Few of us asked him a question in the break, the way he spoke did not make us feel uncomfortable like many scholars do, though he was extremely polite and proper.
When one feels so awed by another person's personality then taking learning becomes easy. Only someone who is very honest with himself will not be afraid of being exposed to people of random backgrounds and being close to them. When I think of Prophet Muhammad (PhuH), this stands out to me. He fearlessly mixed with people, gave them a chance to be close to him, come near him and observe him. And then, the inevitable happened, they loved him and embraced his teachings.
I wish we had someone like him down here in Sydney. Just being in his company has it's effect. Makes one feel very much compelled to purify her entire self, inside out.

drove, by myself too.

2008-01-31T07:01:00.000+11:00

I should have written this blog last monday to mark the day. But, due to mostly my engagements and partly my laziness, that did not happen. So, now I write--I drove to Auburn all by myself!!!

It was my first time driving alone such a long distance (40 minutes one way)! Usually I have at least one other family member in the car.

On monday, I had to go to tutoring at alpha. Originally I planned on going by train, as I always do. But monday being a public holiday, the train timetable was horrible. On top of that, I found out that morning, cityrail decided to have trackwork the whole day. Which meant, it would take me more than 2 hours just to get there, then I had to come back as well. Getting back at home before nine at night was impossible. I was lamenting (aloud) about the waste of time and energy sitting in front of mother deary when the strangest thing came out of her... her mother-self thought I should take the car, while the prudent side of her's wondered how to manage other things if I took the car considering there is just one car in the house.

Of course the mother-self won and I was told to take the car!

I was stunned! That easy? I remember my brother, he never had it so easy!

Not to mention, my brother was v v jealous. Poor guy, he did all the fighting for me (evil smile).

So I drove away to Auburn, as Nazeel sang softly. What freedom!

Now the first reference has been made and established, I hope to take the car out more often to far away places. Just hoping... :)

an uncurable disease

2008-01-12T00:15:00.000+11:00

The thought of making anyone unhappy constricts my heart. I become anxious and agitated, spending hours to remove the smallest fraction of the cause of unhappiness.
Yet I know, I can never make everyone happy. Sometimes, one is better off keeping some unhappy.
But, no matter how hard I try, I can never be prudent enough to follow the letter and balance my acts. I always end up trying to keep everyone happy, sometimes at the cost of those whose happiness matters to me the most, who are closest to my heart.
I wish I could do something about it!

Colourful sky

2008-01-10T22:05:00.000+11:00

When we went to Maroubra rocks just a few days back, it was a beautiful day. The sky was clear with pieces of scattered clouds floating about. As my eyes were scanning the sky to trace the sky-ad, I discovered this--a torn rainbow on the background of blue sky. It was incredibly beautiful. I have never seen anything like this before.

Something to distract myself...

2008-01-08T22:03:00.000+11:00

A message this afternoon probably changed my life...
I don't know yet. I am feeling very restless, very uncertain, very apprehensive and very very scared. Emu Martian called to talk but I was very cold. I do not know what lies ahead of me. I hate regretting the decisions I take. I long for the 'contentment' that the true believers feel...
I only ask of God... please do take care of my poor soul! Inspire me with the right decision. Make me happy and content with whatever decision I end up taking...

Anyway, just to distract myself I decided to fill in the last list I discovered from Emu Martian's blog.

Last Cigarette: 2 years ago, that was my 2nd and last smoke. vowed to never revisit that faculty after experiencing a terrible coughing fit.
Last Alcoholic Drink: don't drink
Last Car Ride: yesterday, took my sis shopping.
Last Kiss: can't remember. must be ma/lamz, these are the only ppl who get away with kissing my forehead!
Last Good Cry: feel like one now ;)
Last Library Book: old man and the sea
Last book bought: the encyclopaedia of arts ;)
Last Movie Seen in Theatres: shrek 3 (i haven't been to the movies in a while!)
Last Movie Rented: i don't rent very often so can't remember.
Last Cuss Word Uttered: do bangla cuss words count?
Last beverage Drank: i have been living on water.
Last Food Consumed: dinner... rice with yuum bhorta and my mother's special been curry.
Last Crush: :P
Last Phone Call: emu Martian!
Last TV Show Watched: 7th heaven. (i can't believe its finished!)
Last Time Showered: few hours ago
Last Shoes Worn: i despise shoes. that would be during the semesters when i was forced to cover my toes for biochem lab.
Last CD Played: The life of Muhammad by Anwar Al-Awlaki
Last Item Bought: a diary for 2008 (feel like going back to the adolescent days of diary all over again)
Last Download: mm...
Last Annoyance: lamzity for her untidy bed.
Last Disappointment: still not receiving the surprise i had been waiting for...
Last Soda Drank: traffic stopper!
Last Thing Written: a very annoyed bangla blog post.
Last Words Spoken: 'give me the computer'
Last Sleep: 14 hours ago! omg i need to sleep! staying awake for 14 hours straight during holiday is formidable...
Last Ice Cream Eaten: this afternoon. i had to finish off some caramel flavoured left overs since that was occupying precious refrigerate space :|
Last Chair Sat In: this computer chair.
Last Webpage Visited: www.somewhereinblog.net

Movie: Before Sunrise

2007-11-14T11:56:00.000+11:00

I have never heard of the movie 'Before Sunrise' until yesterday. Its pretty old, about a decade old. I guess it never got good ratings because it was on TV at mid-day. They don't put good movies during that ungodly hour. I just happened to watch it as I felt like watching something on TV, tired of memorizing biochem. I am glad I watched it. I don't remember when was the last time I enjoyed every bit of a movie like this.

I think most people would hate it, there was no story line, it had no artistic value, failed entirely in all aesthetic sense, any review of the story will sound very cliched. It was about a boy and a girl, both in their twenty's. They met on a train in Vienna. The girl is French, the guy an American, carrying a fresh bruise in his heart, thanks to his 'X-girl friend'.
They meet, they just happen to talk, the boy convinces the girl to show her the city. So the girl takes him and shows him around. They talk more. The boy has to go back to America the next day so it is their only night together. They make the most of it by talking all night, walking around Vienna.

Fairly cliched. No storyline, no particular suspense. And it was full of conversation, in fact it was more like a talk show between two people. You could skip half an hour of the movie and still catch up again. Still, I loved it. I reckon its because I could connect to the movie so much, at times it felt like they were reading my mind, saying the things I would normally say, doing things the way I would do.

As she said, she has perfect parents, free minded, caring, giving her every freedom she ever wanted, yet, she has a fight of her own--I was drawn into it. My parents are pretty much the epitome of 'good parents'--caring and always ready to learn. But we still have conflicts. Its not about being ungrateful, oh no, I love my parents. If God gave me choices to choose again, I would ask for them. Yet there is a struggle that exists no matter how perfect the parents are. It must be a parents-kids thing. I accepted it, I no longer feel guilty about the conflict. Just as I was thinking that, the girl said it.

She likes being free as a woman yet she thought the feminist idea of 'freedom' was an invention of the 'men', just so that they could take advantage of the women more easily. The "freedom of sex" only really serves the men, after all. There was a typical discussion about 'what men want, what women want', the girl defending the women and the guy the men. For the guy, its biological. After all, if there were 99 women and one man in an island, after one year there would the possibility of 99 new lives in the island. 99 men and 1 woman? Just one baby of course. The girl had a more practical outlook--99 men won't co-exist to begin with. They would kill each other very soon. As feminist as she was, she said something interesting. There is all this pressure around her of being free, strong and not having her life revolving around one person, yet she wouldn't mind having a life like that.

I found it interesting 'cause I often have that thought. My mum is an independent, strong willed woman. That puts a pressure on me of being more independent, successful and free. On top of that, I am a university-going young Muslim woman of the west, where Muslim women are on the forefront of the struggle of lifting up the image of 'women in Islam'. I feel the burden of pressure of 'proving myself'. That is not to say I would like being locked up at home instead. In fact, I can never imagine my future life as a hundred percent housewife, I always wanted to excel in my career. I always thought I have so much to give to the society, I never wanted to limit myself to serving one person, so much so that my brother often thinks I am 'overtly feminist'.
Yet, a part of me muses occasionally--a simpler life free of all these pressures would be nice. Don't get me wrong, I hate macho guys, but I dislike that pressure around me.

The girl had a unique way of thinking, expressing her views about everything as they walked around the city. Going from deep self realisation to light jokes. The self realisations were not quoted from book, they were so cliched because I think everyone goes through those realisations at times.

Another way to look at it--it was predictable. Still I loved it. May be I am just sick of movies trying too hard to be original and turning out to be entirely distant from normal human nature, so much so that I can no longer connect to them. I get entertained, oh yes I do, but they are just like stage shows performed by freaks for sheer entertainment. 'Before sunrise' was a refreshing exception.

my art work

2007-11-12T08:55:00.000+11:00

As a part of my extensive (unplanned) procrastination, I just happened to draw this in paint. For those who like to speculate too much-- the heart is only injured because it can no longer bear the thought of 6 exams... (one starting tomorrow). I know the atria and ventricles are not quite in the right place, you can't see a trace of inferior vena cava, or any many other vessels, but, its still a heart. I am proud of my artistic talent.

Nightmare

2007-11-11T08:21:00.000+11:00

Who has to do six exams in a single uni semester? In a 10 day period too. No I am not counting the mid sems/lab quiz or any other trivial tests during the semester. I am talking about formal final exams at the end of the semester, during exam period.

I know, sounds impossible. But guess what, I have to do it! I had to do it last semester, and doing it this semester, again. I have a pathetic life. For all the right reasons, I am hell scared and acting very strange. I am sleeping up to 12 hours a day, walking like a zombie and memorising every corner of the sun herald. I think I am sort of hoping I will sleep through the nightmare without realising it was real.

family iftar

2007-09-28T12:49:00.000+10:00

Last night it felt like a true iftar. It happened like it always used to happen, all my life. As Baba came back from Europe, we had the very first family iftar of this Ramadan. All of us made the pre-Iftar dua together, led by Baba in his familiar style and wording (he pretty much says the same things. Thanks to my experiences of 21 years, I can complete his sentences in my head even before he finishes). The menue was all complete with ma's boot, peyaju, muri, lebur shorbot (and some annoying healthy items). Its amazing what a single missing family member can do.

Yet, I know we will be having more of those episodes in the years to come. There has to come a time when those episodes become normal, lasting for a lifetime.

And that saddens me.

exasperation

2007-09-05T23:30:00.000+10:00

I can't stand Bush. Today, I can't stand him even more. Bush oh bush, why did he have to come to our land? If he so had to come, why did he have to come now? Doesn't he realise, only half the people turned up to the highly important perception lecture because of the inconvenience caused by his arrival, his 'army' of security agents? doesn't he realise he has interfered with my intense desire of touching and feeling the sea today? I must be going insane, he doesn't even get nobody wants him, let along getting the more subtler things... like 'feelings', something that most people have. how many people know his security agents got special permission to bring their own weapons, an absolutely exceptional case for a country like Australia?

Anyway, the point is, I am feeling very restless for some reason, the rising pressures of mid semester can be it. got 3 exams in a row, ramadan conference is just before that, haven't changed the times for tutoring either, and... ramadan starts during my exams. as badly prepared as I am for exams, I have virtually no preparation for ramadan... neither spiritually nor physically. I still need 8 hours of sleep to keep my eyes open during the day. i was really looking forward to this ramadan, don't know what happened. Last night ma told me off for a trivial reason. i think my tolerance level is experiencing a dip. pms it may be, but here p stands for post.

Feeling like escaping into the wilderness since last night, but the altered train timetable put me off. can't be bothered to put up with the chaos caused by a simple desire of getting lost. so i ended up acting very sane and coming home on time. I even prayed so that it doesn't rain before I come home. I got home on time and brought the clothes from the cloth rail before the sky started weeping.

Haven't studied a single decent sentence tonight, even though I had quite an extensive study plan. Better go and sleep, hoping, sleep cures everything.

Hamza robertson: Your beauty

2007-07-30T13:02:00.000+10:00

My newestest obsession--Hamza Robertson's 'Your Beauty'. One of the songs of Hamza's first album 'Something about life'. This is the only thing I wanted Ma to bring from England. Beautiful composition. Unlike Sami Yusuf or Nazeel Azami, Hamza's most songs have high western influence. The song I uploaded was composed by Sami Yusuf which explains the heavy eastern influence. He does not have any tinge of accent like Sami or Nazeel so I reckon even with the same composition his songs turn out very different from sami or nazeel.

Time to say Alhamdulillah

2007-07-13T18:43:00.000+10:00

Last night I was in bhaiun's room when he found out our semester final results were sitting in our email inbox. My heart started thumping so hard that I thought that was going to jump out somehow any minute. I acted calm and quietly walked out of the room only to sit in front of my computer, frantically urging Allah to save me with His special mercy and power this time only, one last time! (Why does it seem so familiar?)

I was saved Alhamdulillah. I was scared to death about Physiology, Alhamdulillah, my fear did not come true.

To add onto the air of blessing, Baba finally got his full license. Now I can drive with him and hopefully learn how to drive before November (when my L expires) to escape the horror of doing 120 hours of driving.

Today my student was talking about some Blue P plate, she was very surprised that I haven't heard of that. She asked God to bless my ignorant soul, only then did she realise it was Green P's she was talking about. I was greatly relieved, as for a minute I thought Govt introduced another coloured P plate in addition to the existing ones to make my pain last forever.

Dear God, grant me a red P, please.

brain of the heart

2007-07-09T22:57:00.000+10:00

I have been religiously listening to Outlandish for last few days. I love their words, style and composition. 'I've seen', (feat Sami Yusuf) is about the state of the Ummah. A particular phrase from that song is stuck inside my head--'listen to the brain of the heart'. I have been doing that all my life. Don't dare to recommend that to anyone.

'a good Muslim boy?'

2006-09-16T12:01:00.000+10:00

I heard someone talking about N in these terms 'the nicest girl you will ever meet'. She truly is. A really soft spoken, soft hearted girl. A member of ISOC shura. I have never heard her complaining about anyone.

This girl has been the victim of a 'good Muslim boy'. The 'good Muslim boy' blocked her way to Masallah and asked, 'Sister would you like to have coffee with me? I am a very good Muslim boy. I am a very good student too. I am a tutor in this uni...'. N rejected him as hard as possible by a girl like her and came to the Lodge blushing like a tomato. The guy's thirsty eyes followed him and kept staring. Apparently the guy was still expecting her to go back... tell you what I found most disgraceful: he is a FOB, most possibly Bangladeshi! What a shame, what a shame!!! You know those clean shaved, fobby looking jeans wearing guys? One of them!

Poor N!

(Changed N's name to mere initials since my statcounter shows someone from australia has been searching for her name coupled with unsw and ending up in this blog. I fear that might be another creepy stalker of poor miss N.)

Back again

2006-09-16T11:00:00.000+10:00

Yesterday isoc had lunch with Uniting Church. Our host, the egyptian brother being a typical Middle-Eastern host has practically bought the whole of Sydney to feed us. There were charcoal chicken, homous (I am very bad with Middle-Eastern food-names guys. Forgive my mis-spelllings), salad (the true middle eastern way), felafel, lebanese bread, humongous shingara (I thought I will ask where he got them from!) and heaps of other food! These are the ones that I got to try. We were a small group of people so it was really great in terms of socialising in relaxed mood. All of us stood around the table before starting to savour the food and Muslims said the dua of eating (with meaning) and Christians said their prayer. The guy saying the prayer insisted there should be a 'boy-girl-boy-girl' or 'Christian-Muslim-Christian-Muslim' sitting arrangement. We opted the Christian-Muslim sitting arrangement! Two of the girls I met came to this uni through student-exchange program, one from USA and another from Canada. I am usually very bad at remembering names, but I haven't forgot one of their names even for a sec: 'Bron'! (It will only sound funny to the bangla speaking readers. No offence to the name, its just amazing how the same word can mean something completely different in a different language. A neighbour of mine loved the name 'Anas' in Arabic for her son, but decided against it fearing it will be changed to 'anus' in high school.)

Alhamdulillah, some blood is flowing through ISOC's ailing veins! We have our IAW next week. Please do come guys if you are free. We have arranged a little multicultural food day on the Thursday. Do suggest what kind of food can I take. I am thinking of taking a little unusual food like chanachur and daal puri. I might take some achaar too.

I am listening to 'Aicha' by Outlandish right now. I am obesessed with this song, absolutely obsessed! You can try their latest album 'Closer than veins' here (look for the link on your right hand side). Follow the lyrics carefully. Amazing how they integrated Quranic ayah and hadith in every single of the songs without making it obvious. If you know where they are taken from, then you can listen to the songs in a totally different level. Hamdulillah, I am happy. May Allah bless and reward them!

a holiday being well (!) spent

2006-04-17T12:21:00.000+10:00

As an answer to my desperate prayer for a "break", the holiday finally came, except, second part of my prayer isn't coming true--that to make the time go slower and that this holiday being well used. Hmm. Fueling to my already all-time-fakibaj-mood, my parents have gone for a four day long mid-life honeymoon. Well, thats what I decided to call it. Originally Baba had the plans for visiting Adelaide for some official purpose and I insisted Ma should go along and stay back for few days. My parents often claim, once they get us all settled, you know married and all, they will set off for a tour around the world. We insisted, they should try a miniature-betta-version of that tour before Baba goes to Bangladesh for three months. Off they went. The day before they went, we were flooded by advices and advices. They are calling quite frequently and checking up on us, so much so that I am getting worried. Last night mother deary called at about 11 at night, they were sitting beside a lake in moon light. How romantic! Oh it should have been... but guess what, apparently it wasn't "fun" enough 'cause we weren't there. So Ma decided to call up and talk to me instead of Baba. Worry! How do the old man and his wife plan to enjoy the 'world tour' without us?
In the mean time, we siblings are enjoying our freedom in every possible way. Imagine a life, when you don't get yelled at for piling up unwashed dishes... or having ice-cream for breakfast... or sleeping all day without being waken up... Ah! That's it, thats the luxery I am enjoying. So come on people, off you send your parents for a honeymoon! They need it! (You need it more than them by the way :P).

introducing...

2006-03-09T01:51:00.000+11:00

Since I started reading Harry Potter (I am upto half way through Goblet of Fire, just wondering why on earth I never listened to my insisting sister before and picked up one of these), Hijabi Princess increasingly sounds like Harry Potter to me (as opposed to Hewlett Packard, HP digital). On top of that, princess is not what I call myself anymore. I am about to be finishing my teenage life, it just doesn't suit to be fancying myself as a princess anymore, does it? So now I am a tan curve now, (that is until I feel like something else to myself). If you are wondering why a tan curve and not a sine or cosine one, you see, I have heard people claiming themselves to be in a sine-curvish mood, the negative swing and all. For me, the negative-ness and positive-ness does not come so smoothly and doesn't leave me so swiftly. The changes are as sudden as the tan curve. In either end I seem to be either flying on the seventh sky or diving into the abyss. I can't do it the "balanced way". I either love too much or despise with a passion. I am either depressed or ecstatic, my "okay-ness" doesn't last long. I either do it well or don't do it at all (or do it like it would be better if I didn't). I am a tan curve.