How Red Sneakers Changed My Life

Today is May 11th. It's finally election day! And even though I'm finally old enough to exercise my right to vote, I probably won't have an ink-stained thumb later tonight. As much as I appreciate the ECP's efforts at ensuring that the majority of Pakistan's population was registered for the elections this time round, things haven't gone smoothly at all obviously. Turns out all of my family's polling stations are scattered across the city. I'm registered at some school in Malir, my grandparents are supposed to cast their vote in North Nazimabad, my mom is the only one fortunate enough to have her polling station in our area, and my dad isn't a registered voter at all. Keeping the security situation in view and the Taliban's hours-old announcement of planning nation-wide attacks on election offices tomorrow, it's probably better to stay locked indoors. But isn't that what we've been doing for the past decade or so? Where is our faith?...

I have always loved Gone With the Wind. I fell in love with it the minute I started reading it, and I could feel deep in my bones that I would carry the story with me forever. It's been about three years since I first finished it and during that time, the afterglow of that exhilerating story did dim somewhat. Until I picked it up again. And now I'm absolutely obsessed. I think human beings love tragedy. Tragic endings leave a much greater impression on our foolish, sentimental hearts than a happy ending riding away into the sunset ever could.  But that's not the only reason I'm a diehard fan of GWTW. The story SPOKE to me on so many levels. I could relate to almost all of the characters. Annoyingly, I could relate most to Ashley Wilkes. And he's supposed to be the weakest character in the novel. It's not that I would've done what he did with Scarlett and Melanie. But everything he said, oh man, EVERYTHING he felt about the passing away of the old Sout...

I wrote this months ago but I wasn't sure if I wanted to share it. I'd like to think this is the end of my There and Back Again story - if it can be called one...  I have imagined you coming back to me in so many ways.  Blue sky in Toronto and the sunlight scatters off your white doctor’s coat, as you throw your arms wide for an embrace. But I keep my distance as I’ve always had, and now more than ever with this wall of years between us. Well, you insist we drive somewhere, maybe Niagra Falls or the CN Tower, and catch up on the way. Yes, you drive now. And as the kilometers roll by, and the sun shifts its position, lighting up your face, your skin, throwing your features into relief, I begin to remember the way I used to feel. I remember you leaning over a school window, the memory of you frozen in laughter. I remember all our songs, and I have to shake my head to clear it, I have to redraw the line between the then and the now. Even though I catch you looking a...

I've had a moody kind of day. Actually, no, I should make use of my newfound GRE vocab and say I've been CANTANKEROUS all day. Whatever. There's always an alarming amount of unfinished work and deadlines swarming around me, and seriously, all I ever manage to do is read Gone With The Wind. I'd like to think I'm not the only one and that procrastination and laziness are necessary characteristics of any college student but then I should learn from my ingenious classmates who seem to have time to revise lectures and finish assignments and study for tests and lab tests and complete their lab manuals on time and still have energy left over to attempt bonus mark questions. Impressive. And to top it all, I got such an exciting text message this evening. There's a distraught soul out there who wants to be my 'frnd', he says he knows who I am even though I don't know him. How comforting to know that there is someone out there who cares! I shall warm my poor,...

THE BACK SEAT OF MY MOTHER'S CAR - Julia Copus When I inititally came across this poem, and read through the first half, I wasn't very impressed. It wasn't until I finished it when the full impact of what I had just read hit me. The poem is written in a form called specular, in which the second half of the poem mirrors the first. The second half is really just the first half of the poem read the other way around. I love the idea of it. I think it's an excellent way of portraying two different perspectives of the same situation. Julia Copus developed the technique herself. WOW. We left before I had time to comfort you, to tell you that we nearly touched hands in that vacuous half-dark. I wanted to stem the burning waters running over me like tiny rivers down my face and legs, but at the same time I was reaching out for the slit in the window where the sky streamed in, cold as ether, and I could see your fat mole-fingers grasping the dusty August air. I pressed my ...

Saudi Village Yamama Painting - Saudi Village Yamama Fine Art Print -  Yvonne Ayoub With a wide, vague , almost sensual turn of his arm he describes a circle in the air - a circle which encompasses everything that belongs to this life: the poor, dusky room, the wind and its eternal roar, the relentless advance of the sands; longing for happiness, and resignation to what cannot be changed; the platter full of dates; the struggling orchards behind their shield of tamarisks; the fire on the hearth; a young woman's laughter somewhere in the courtyard beyond: and in all these things and in the gesture that has brought them out and together I seem to hear the song of a strong spirit which knows no barriers of circumstance and is at peace with itself. Excerpt from The Road to Mecca by Muhammad Asad

How else then should we worship God? Did He not create both, soul and body, together? And this being so, should man not pray with his body as well as with his soul? Listen, I will Tell you why we Muslims pray as we pray. We turn toward the Kaaba, God's holy temple in Mecca, knowing that the faces of all Muslims, wherever they may be, are turned to it in prayer, and that we are like one body, with Him as the centre of our thoughts. First we stand upright and recite from the Holy Quran, remembering that it is His Word, given to man that he may be upright and steadfast in life. Then we say, "God is the Greatest," reminding ourselves that no one deserves to be worshipped but Him; and bow down deep because we honour Him above all, and praise His power and glory. Thereafter we prostrate ourselves on our foreheads because we feel that we are but dust and nothingness before Him, and that He is our Creator and Sustainer on high. Then we lift our faces from the ground and rema...