“You can’t let them win. For them to win, is for you to die.”
“It’s not easy when you don’t know who your enemy is. And how many.”
“To begin with; consider this — you are your own enemy.”
--- Ciphur
22 Thursday Sep 2011
Posted in Uncategorised
“You can’t let them win. For them to win, is for you to die.”
“It’s not easy when you don’t know who your enemy is. And how many.”
“To begin with; consider this — you are your own enemy.”
--- Ciphur
13 Wednesday Jul 2011
Posted in Uncategorised
Tags
Beach, Coffe Mugs, Couple, Perfectionist, Photography, Sea, Tea Cups, Waves
…so far have been a D.I.S.A.S.T.E.R.
Extremely enthusiastic to pursue my interest in photography, I clicked photographs of my collection of tea cups and coffee mugs. Even in the photographs, the cups looked so ‘mouth watering’. Thrilled and ready to upload them on Flikr, I checked my results on the computer screen and much to my dismay there seemed to appear some unsightly, ugly lines on the wooden table that I had set the cups on. I could have sworn that these lines didn’t exist when I set cup after cup, almost 15 of the choicest cups from my collection, on the same table. And now as a bolt of lightning, they seemed to appear out of nowhere !
I am uploading only two out of all the photographs of cups that I clicked on that day.
Another one…
These marks spell total disaster for any perfectionist; a ‘why am I even alive ?’ kind of an excuse for a suicide (an exaggeration, alright ! ) . I may have missed noticing those marks in my enthusiasm to click the photographs of one of the few of my loves.
On the note of love, guess why this photograph below is a failure ?
Aah ! So you noticed the couple in the upper right corner of the photograph ?
And you think the couple should have been in the center of the photograph ?
Exactly ! However, though the couple is the reason of the failure; it’s not because they are not in the center, but rather because they are there in the photograph to begin with.
My focus here was entirely on the waves right in front of me, so much so that I didn’t notice the presence of the couple neither in the sea nor in the frame of the picture that I was about to click. In fact I noticed them much after I uploaded the photograph on Flikr. LOL !
Here the only love that I had in my mind was the sea, the waves.
Well. We learn from mistakes, don’t we ? I guess I have to learn even the basics of photography. Selecting a perfect (sorry, ‘a good’) background is one of the essentials to get a perfect (sorry again, ‘a good’) photograph.
Hmmm…. A long road for me to travel before I become a photographer worth my salt.
11 Monday Jul 2011
Posted in Lessons I learnt
” Mama, why is there so little embroidery here in the corner of the kerchief ?”
“Because sometimes a little is more.”
And just as I said it, I realised what really it meant. Something that I had heard many times before, and now on reflecting upon it , I realise that I have actually followed the maxim quite often without realising it; but was not aware of the beauty, the impact and the real meaning of it… till it escaped my mouth.
When beauty is not embellished with too much… It is just beautiful.
and when the heart is content…
. …A little is more.
09 Monday May 2011
Posted in All in a day
Talk about lobbying for rights !
Mommy : You aren’t watching any cartoons now.
Dotty : But Mama, I have a right to watch cartoons !
Oh sure, young lady ! You did scare the wits out of me !
But guess what ?
You mommy has had a very conservative upbringing and is a fierce feminist in her own right, who also happens to know where to draw the line.
So the next time you try pulling a stunt like this…. guess what you get ?
A whack
. …and a rap.
NOW GO AND GET YOUR BOOKS !
02 Sunday Jan 2011
Posted in Uncategorised
Today late in the evening when stepping out for dinner, I entered a lift which was already occupied by an elderly man in his early 60s, wearing the traditional Indian kurta pyjama, a cap on his head, sporting a white beard that matched the colour of his hair. Reflexly I greeted ‘Assalaam Alaikum’ . I expected him to reply back ‘Walaikum Assalaam’. He didn’t . I felt offended this time, wondering what is wrong with the Muslims here ? As this was not the first time I have had this kind of response from strangers here. Yeah of course, I forgot to mention, I didn’t know this man. He was a stranger to me. All that I recognised from his get up, was that he was a Muslim.
I have had similar kind of responses from all strangers that I have greeted so far : men/women, young/old. Strangers I don’t know, strangers I don’t recognise, but strangers whom I relate to in terms of identity. A few days after I landed in Mumbai, I had hailed a cab to go to South Mumbai and while sitting in the cab,I had noticed the driver was a Muslim. An old man, and I reflexly greeted ‘Assalaam Alaikum’. I supposed he didn’t reply , probably because he hadn’t heard me. A couple of days later, I met two Muslim ladies, waiting for the lift and I greeted them too. As usual, no response. They didn’t even acknowledge, neither by a nod nor by any gesture ! It was if they hadn’t heard me ! And this has happened quite often, enough to now bother me.
I find this very odd. I have spent many long years in Saudi Arabia and on this occasion I have come here after five years. Of course a lot of things have changed here. Even the way people dress and the way they talk, their behaviour and their attitudes, everything. And I am not talking here about my friends or relatives. Mumbai has changed and it’s people have changed too.
I unintentionaly start drawing comparisons between Saudi Arabia and Mumbai, though I love Mumbai very much and this city is my birth place. I grew up here. Studied here. Got married here. I feel there is no place on Earth like Mumbai. Mumbai has a life of it’s own. A different life. It is not just the commercial hub of India, it is the place where Bollywood makes dreams and sells them to the rest of India and even exports those dreams abroad. India beats to the heart beats of Mumbai.
It’s about culture I suppose. Some cultural practices arise out of religious practices. In Saudi Arabia, where Islam is the prominent religion and it’s laws are based on Sharia, Islam is a way of life there. Islamic practices are, what are followed by the majority, hence most of it’s cultural practices are derived out of the religious practices. The habit of greeting each other by Salaam has become a reflex action. Whether the person is known to one or not, he/she is greeted by the Islamic greeting ‘Assalaam Alaikum’. It is recommended by the Hadith for two Muslims to greet each other by Salaam, even if they have been separated by a minute and met each other again after a few steps. This greeting is a part of the identity of Muslims, irrespective of where they stay. But now I believe this practice is observed only in some parts of the world.
When I mentioned this to the girl ,who was with me in the lift at that time, she said that this is the norm here. Here they don’t greet strangers. And even if they do, the usual response is of distrust.They look at you as if you need something from them. And she added further, that she herself would perhaps greet a Muslim woman, a young man out of question, but would never greet an aged man either, because she wouldn’t trust him.He would probably start getting some ideas, she said.
And I realised, how much lack of trust and inability to trust has pervaded the society. A greeting may perhaps be a way to initiate a conversation. Which could perhaps later on lead to other things, either a relation or a transaction or perhaps even nothing. But can’t we greet each other without expecting anything else other than simply a simple reply to the greeting ? Should any interaction necessarily have a motive behind it ? Why all this distrust ? After all, ‘Assalaam Alaikum’ only means ‘Peace unto you’
I have had a habit of blindly trusting people only to be let down miserably and now I know all cannot be trusted. Yet I haven’t given up on humanity. I haven’t given up on trust.I still do believe not all are same. Not all can be trusted and similarly not all should be distrusted. Life has taught me to be now cautious, but not afraid of people. Why don’t we treat each one as a different person than the other ? Why don’t we take them on face value ? I am not advocating throwing all caution to the wind. But really, why don’t we give them a chance to show what they really are ? Every one deserves a time , a moment to prove what stuff he is made of. If they fail you, it is their loss. Feel sorry for them, but don’t give up on humanity as a whole.
18 Saturday Dec 2010
Posted in Uncategorised
It seems to have been ages since I have actually put a pen to paper with the purpose of writing something else other than a shopping or a ‘to-do’ list. And now that I’m doing it, this activity appears alien to me but it is something that I’m getting gradually used to, with a bit of nostalgia and a sense of familiarity.
The reason why I would need to carry out this ancient practice, given this age of computers and internet, both of whom I have been married to since the past 10 years or so, is because I’m required to take a test of my writing abilities and skills.And for this test I would be required to really use my hand with a real pen on a real paper ! I came to terms with this realisation with a bit of unsettling feelings, something that one feels on coming across ‘strange’, hitherto unknown activities. Strangely,this reaction has been despite the fact that I have had a formal education for about 17 years during which conventional paper ‘textbooks’ and ‘notebooks’ were used and pens and pencils were the regular medium of input.
I recall now how then , different kinds and brands of this writing medium were prized possessions of students who competed with each other not only in the possession of these objects of thrill but also in the use of these objects. A student was known not only by his or her grades but also by his handwriting where a beautiful and a clear handwriting were considered an art; an asset, a coveted skill that students laboured hard to acquire. Parents and teachers used to get concerned if the handwriting of their wards appeared like crawling insects on paper.
Clearly things have changed since I graduated from graduate school. My kids are in elementary school and have been introduced to computers right from Grade 1. My son is being taught programmes that I had laboured hard to teach myself many years after graduation. Mercifully though, pencil and paper are still being used as media of input or learning, at least in this part of the world that I live in.
And like my parents, I too am concerned about my children’s handwriting and its appearance and speed; since parents unknowingly and unintentionally and sometimes knowingly and intentionally expect children to perform better or at least at the same level as they had, in their learning days. This of course implies that I had a lucid and beautiful handwriting in my school as well as college days.
A few days ago however, when I attempted to write on blank sheets of paper that I have been using so far only to take computer printouts, I watched in horror and dismay as my hand scribbled a few illegible lines on paper with extreme effort and labour. Not only was the handwriting utterly ugly by my standards, but also shockingly slow. I went into a state of denial. This could not be me and this could not be my handwriting ! Then came shock and anger and finally acceptance. All stages of grief covered,I resolved to improve upon this art,which I meticulously practiced. However,when I focused on the appearance, speed went down and when I tried to speed up, beauty was sacrificed. Going through a myriad of emotions including shock, anger and denial, not excluding a sense of loss, helplessness and inability to cope with, misty eyed I tried to strike a balance between both beauty and speed, resolving and attempting to improve upon both.
And now several pages later, I must say I can already see a difference. A noticeable difference; both in the appearance and speed of my handwriting. I always keep saying, ‘Fruits of labour never tasted better’. At the same time however I realized that over the years it was not just my handwriting that got battered but also my writing skills have taken the battering. Now I need to improve upon my writing skills too.
In this whole process of self-realisation however, a wonderful thing happened…
I have fallen in love again with real paper and real pen and seem to derive some kind of gratification out of holding a pen in my hand and rolling it over paper in smooth beautiful strokes, finding the classic motion of ball over paper as smooth as satin and an undescribable experience.
This is going to be one wild, intense affair which holds promises of lasting a life time !
“Sorry ‘Word’, I will have to part ways with you; which I will do gradually so that both of us can get used to it in a less shocking manner. But I will on amicable terms with you. And yes we can still be friends and remain so “
03 Tuesday Aug 2010
Posted in Uncategorised
Tags
Gyan, Hour, Knowledge, Net-Surfing, Time
Yes,I actually meant to ask ‘with’ and not ‘in’ an hour.
I actually waste an hour… hour by hour… thinking it’s ‘ONLY an hour’
And today I got this ‘gyan’ from my bruised wisdom, that I want to share with you.
Collected every day over a year,it adds upto 365 hours.
Now THAT was something that hit me in right in my eye.
365 HOURS !
Cool !
So that is how much I waste in the minimum (which is not the case.Because I waste it in batches of at least 4-5 hours per day.No, I am not going to even calculate the exact over a year… I am too faint hearted for that
)
And now what could I do if I used it constructively every day ?
Like learning a new language ? Or hitting the gym ? Or even brushing up my knowledge on things that I already know ?Or even cleaning my attic (or my house for that matter
)
YES !!!
Now that I am loaded with new found gyan and loads of my own suggestions on what I could do with every hour that I gain everyday by just restricting my net-surfing time (Ok.I confess.This is what I was alluding to, all the time
), it’s time to start implementing my knowledge.
Wish me luck !
24 Saturday Jul 2010
Posted in Uncategorised
Tags
On the few occassions that I actually enjoy cooking,I get concerned about my mental status,because this one activity is not something that I am totally thrilled about,despite the fact that I turn out very good result ( or product ?
)
Had it not been for the fact that my house-help is utterly hopeless in cooking , I would never enter the kitchen.
Besides I always get hassled and bogged down by the ‘eternal’ question…
‘What shall I cook today ?’
I do love good food though.
Only to eat !
But I cook.
For the following reasons:
Yes, I realised cooking is an art. A perfectionist art !
You need to add just the right, rather the PERFECT amount of ingredients at just the right (read again ‘perfect’ ) time in the just the right (yeah ‘perfect’ again) order, and temper it at just the right ( Ok, from now on, I’ll stick to ‘perfect’ ) temperature for the perfect duration to get just the perfect texture and colour as well as the perfect taste !
(Oh ! By the way did I mention using the ‘perfect’ vessels to cook the perfect dish? )
There ! A perfect job accomplished in the most perfect manner by the most imperfect person !
Never have the fruits of one’s own labour tasted better…
But I do sometimes wonder…
Given the onus been laid on the man to provide for the food for his family,why can’t the responsbility of preparing it and laying it on the table ,also be laid on his shoulders ?
After all aren’t the best cook in the world all men ?
Besides aren’t men to toil and women to spoil ?
Er… I meant ‘to be spoilt’
No I mean to spoil…
No,No ! It’s….
Oh well, forget it !
19 Monday Jul 2010
Posted in Uncategorised
Tags
Edited:
Am intrigued by your intrigue.
Who are you ?
14 Wednesday Jul 2010
Posted in Uncategorised
Tags
23 Wednesday Jun 2010
Posted in Uncategorised
Tags
It’s difficult to remain ungrateful when day in and day out you witness patients lying on ventilators depending on machines even for a single breath.
They wouldn’t be thinking then of the love that was around, but not available , or how the days sucked . How everything went completely against their wishes.
If they were capable of thinking…
they would be asking for just one breath
On their own.
One extra moment
to live that life again…
and undo all the wrong undone.
Forgive me Allah , for I have been ungrateful !
22 Tuesday Jun 2010
Posted in All in a day
Tags
accidents, adreanline, Ciphur, Death, ER, joy-rides, morbidity, mortality, Saudi Arabia, youth
Already struggling with difficulty in concentrating on the work at hand, I am disturbed all the more by the screeching sound that I just heard on the street.
At first it sounded like a car getting out of control and I was just relieved to think that the guy probably was just lucky that there is a hospital in the vicinity. But wait ! The sound appears again and sadly I realize it is one of those youth who seek adrenaline gush through joy rides.
Sad.
I feel sorry for the mothers who have everything to lose in just one instance , just because her son chose to find life exciting in such an irrational way.
Death has a sort of detached feeling in the life of Muslims.This detachment is more profoundly found in Saudi Arabia.It may be so , in other Arab countries too,but I have no first hand experience of living in those places ,so can’t comment on it.This detachment has a lot to do with the religious beliefs here that death is inevitable and is sure to come at it’s appointed hour and place and one has no control over it.
This kind of belief is healthy to some extent as it helps to cope with the grief that follows the death of a near or dear one.But to stretch it to such an extent that one loses a sense of responsibility over one’s actions ?
Death (and as such ) mortality is unavoidable.But morbidity sure is not.
All accidents don’t end up in loss of life.Loss of limbs and thus loss of function is only less serious than a lifetime of loss of consciousness.Death on the other hand is a relief,which not all are lucky to get.
Loss of material is not even worth elaborating on here.
It pains me to see the youth whiling away the prime time of their lives in such useless and meaningless pursuits , joy rides being just one such thrill.
It comes as no surprise to me that Saudi Arabia is one of the countries with the highest rate of accidents . Joy rides though a common occurrence here , are not the cause of all these accidents,but the same reasons contribute to some extent i.e reckless speeding.
I think I ‘ll wind up this post,as I can’t concentrate anymore with the honk blaring in the back ground ![]()
But this just about explains it . NOT letting others do their work is one of the least problems that joy rides cause , but it matters to me.
And I am not disregarding here the additional work load caused in the ER
20 Sunday Jun 2010
Posted in Uncategorised
Recently I came across www.womanityglobal.us
A question was asked:
‘What does womanity mean to you ?’
Wonderful submissions all.
Each echoing what I have felt at one time or the other.
Except the one on ‘pole tricks’
I still don’t understand what is the relation between pole dancing and sexuality (isn’t that what they mean to imply,that pole dancing is sexy or something related to it ? Or am I just too dumb to understand something that clearly thousands other understand ?
)
“Ciphur! You are digressing ! “
“Uh Ok !”
But really,is womanity only sexuality ?
Anyways,that was only one submission implying so,so I dismiss it here.
But this is what I had to add :
‘Womanity is looking in the mirror at your sagging breasts… and (still ) telling yourself “I love you woman” !’
Because,ain’t womanity more than just a body ?
Isn’t it about the strength that lies within every woman and also the immense potential that is yet untapped… yet unexplored ?
And the mystique that surrounds her ?
The sheer joy of just being ?
There is one part that cannot be ignored though.
And that is ‘Frailty’.
Wasn’t it Shakespeare who said ‘Frailty thy name is woman’?
Not completely wrong,I must say.
But then that’s a part of being a woman.
The mystery in her essence.
Something so strong that can bear labour pains,which on dolorimeter measures more than the pain that a soldier bears while dying on the battlefield…
And yet ‘Frail’ !
Mysterious.Ain’t it ?
Sometimes I wonder how I survived all that pain ?And not just once ? ![]()
(Don’t want to sound presumptuous,but even then I was wondering,’Well,this IS painful,but heck I know it’s not gonna kill me ! “
And soldiers die feeling less than that ?
“Ciphur ! Back to the point.”
“What…?
Isn’t womanity not about this also…?”
If you look up this site www.womanityglobal.us , you will find wonderful contributions.
I would have loved to reproduce some here,but don’t know if that would violate the rules ( that frankly I didn’t read much in detail,except that ,I wasn’t eligible to participate in the contest,since Saudi Arabia doesn’t appear in the list of eligible countries )
But…
‘Who wants to participate in the contest ? I just want to be a part of it. ‘Womanity…the invisible bond between women’ and I will voice my opinion on what I feel about it.’
And of course ,I did add there,in another submission:
‘Womanity is BEAUTIFUL’
17 Thursday Jun 2010
Posted in Uncategorised
Tags
“Aren’t you closing up to yourself Ciphur ?”
“Yes, I guess I am.
It’s strange.The more that I try to expand , the more my world seems to narrow down.
I guess it all comes down to one equation:
You being the ‘ciphur’ and He being the Infinity…
It all boils down to just one relationship.
That between you and Him.”
16 Wednesday Jun 2010
Posted in Uncategorised
Tags
.
Do you take the fresh air and Sun for granted ?
I don’t !
How I long to get a whiff of fresh air, every time I step out of my house !
And that is I because , staying where I am , I am obliged to cover up head to toe . No probs with that . I did that right through my junior college and Med school.
But at least I left my face open. I could breathe.
Breathe. F.r.e.e.l.y. Period.
Now , as a social obligation I am required to cover even my face .
It has nothing to do with the obligatory dictates of Islam.
The Islamic teachings require a believing woman to dress modestly , covering the hair too.
Rest , the garment falling loosely, not revealing shape of body or colour of skin ( i.e opaque )
and not attracting undue attention by the garment.
I am guilty though , of attracting attention .
Not by my garment , but by my gait .
No ! It’s not slimy….
I just happen to walk tall . Period.
And THAT itself attracts a lot of attention , not just here , but even back in my home country and try as I may , I cannot make myself walk any other way… because I just don’t know how else to…
Am I getting into self-praise ?
Sorry for digressing ( but seriously don’t women love to blow their own trumpet at times…
)
Uh ! Ok . I know I need to grow up
.
So back to what I was rambling about….
I won’t go into lengths about the Islamic teachings on how a woman should dress.
Because this post is not about it . And maybe I have not always honored the essence of it.
But I ‘ll mention here that covering the face is not obligatory.
Mind you , I love the Islamic way of dressing . It was a conscious choice that I made and was not imposed on me . And at least one of my uncles had commented then , on how young I was to do that . He even feared , I may go into extremism….
But I believe in moderation , which is what Islam advocates too.
I guess I am just too wretched to not desire that Allah SubhanoTaAllah would Himself come to visit me in the Hereafter, as has been promised to women who cover even their faces and follow the Islamic code of conduct and dress in it’s TRUE spirit.
(God ! I am almost tempted now…to stop complaining and desire His vision … but I know , it will fizzle out like a bubble at the next step out of my house
, simply because I find it difficult to breathe )
Yet I cover my face.
If I don’t ,I am embarrased at the glances of men that I unintentionally invite , because then I stand as the odd one out ! ( And I am not even mentioning my looks here
)
Being unable to breathe freely is not just one of the problems that I face with covering my face.
I have lost count of how many times I have tripped over stairs or obstacles , simply because I couldn’t see what was below my eyes or because I tripped over my huge abaya sweeping under my shoes , apart from the floor around .
I still haven’t got the knack of the Saudi women here who carry themselves with immense grace and dignity ,in their huge ( compared to mine ) abayas , even with their huge handbags and a brood in tow !
As effortless , as if the face veil was transparent and they could clearly see in all fields of vision.
Why does my vision then get extremely hypermetropic ? Or rather field restricted ?
They go about their business without being bothered slightest by their dress.
It’s the cultural thing I guess,that I can’t get the hang of.
Strange enough , back at home , around my locality and in college, I had inspired several teenage girls to emulate my modest long coats and scarves , just because they thought I looked very graceful in it….
And how I miss the Sun’s rays on my face and body !
At least the face could do with a tan.
Tan I really don’t care for.
But I am dying to feel the warmth of the sun on my face.
And the fresh air….
.
18 Tuesday May 2010
Posted in All in a day
Tags
Unless…
Someone loves me just tooo much !
It has been quite some time that I have been away from the blogging world. Lately when I decided to come back to read some refreshing and interesting stuff (if I don’t count mine, there’s a lot of stuff that belongs to this category) as well as try my hands at writing.
I say ‘try’ writing , because I simply don’t know how to write. Period .
Since I had nothing to write I hopped around on the net and stumbled upon a ‘Freshly Pressed’ post (yeah they do increase the readership… I realize it now,how !) on Zodi’s blog.
I enjoyed the hilarious read. Zodi blogs well. I commented,subscribed to his posts and move on to another blog that can be described as soul stirring at the least.I commented here too and moved on again, satisfied with my comments, feeling smug, but also realizing that I’m better at commenting rather than writing a blog myself.
The next day,signing-in to my e-mail account (connected to my blog) that I had abandoned months ago , I found 148 e-mails waiting for me. All received in just one day !
Voila !
Seems that someone just loved my comments ( or me ? ) sooo much… that he sent in 148 e-mails
OR
There were 148 people who loved my comments and wrote in to say so!
Wow ! I had the makings of an influential writer [or a commentator ?
]
Quickly jumping to the inbox , I found the 148 e-mails waiting for me…
Oooops !
148 notifications of 148 comments received on Zodi’s blog ,that I had unknowingly subscribed to while subscribing to his posts…
No ! This ain’t funny!
25 Monday Jan 2010
Posted in Uncategorised