"Beti"

My daughters are my strength and my sons are my weakness. Thanks to modern technology you can't feel the tremble in my hands but I am pretty sure this keyboard made out of plastic and metal is experiencing every emotion I feel right now as I believe these are the most intense words I will ever write.

I think a woman is God's strongest creature and BETI is the most powerful phenomenon. A beti is the most forceful thing on the face of the earth as it forces you to do things that are sometimes beyond your imagination. When her tears come down her cheeks and drop right at the most tender corner of your heart, you are bound to acknowledge the true power of a daughter.

Beti is a gift from Almighty Allah that he doesn't bless everyone with. God has been good to me, blessing me with four daughters. They are as precious as they come. Each one recognizes her responsibility to her family with her loyalty intact, and recognizes her own worth as a woman and, more importantly, her worth as a daughter. Each of them can and will move mountains for her family if she has to.

At times she is so gentle and fragile that if you touch her she will break, and at times her tenacity is mind blowing. As a mother, quite early on in her life, you start feeling her joys and sorrows much more than she would feel herself. You know she is going to pay some kind of a toll at each and every corner she turns in her lifetime, much more than her brothers or husband will.

The picture that I have attached is of my son Haroon with his first born, Ariana. This was taken at at a pediatricians office while waiting for her first shots. The baby obviously has no idea what is coming her way. But according to Anila (Haroon's wife), Haroon was about to cry. He could not handle even the anticipation of the little pinch his daughter was about to feel, lasting no more than half a second. To me, this photograph is worth a thousand words. I see it as a moment when my son experienced and acknowledged the power of a beti.

Of all the roles that I played during my life as a woman, my role as a beti is most precious to me. Although both my parents are gone, I still am their daughter. I was their daughter first before i was "anyone" to anyone else. I have to admit I didn't fully realize my worth as a beti until my own daughters became young ladies. What I saw in them, I'm sure my parents saw in me, and that is the whole world. What my parents did and what I'm doing is the exact same thing, sometimes making the impossible possible just to catch a little glimpse of smile on her face......at times, a very EXPENSIVE smile in every sense of the word. I have my four daughters, one daughter-in-law, and three granddaughters, and when I am surrounded by them I am the "richest' woman alive as they are my most expensive accessories.

On a lighter note, if you don't have a daughter, you better get on your knees and beg Allah for at least two (as long as you are still in your reproductive years) as they could be your ticket to Jannat. They will keep you grounded more than anyone else would dare. I love them to pieces but I have to admit there were times, more like years (their pre teens and teen years) when I wanted to mail them back to sender. Besides stealing my heart they have graduated to stealing my shoes and bags and I suspect pretty soon my identity as well. They occupy each and every corner of my heart and prove to be the worst tenants as they don't pay any rent but refuse to leave.

"A mother's treasure is her daughter." -Catherine Pulsifer

Much Love,

Shehla

"I wish..."

Hi Everyone,

Last week, on the first of Ramzan, I finished my ish'a prayers and as I put both of my hands up and did my routines dua'as (which of course I have memorized by now), my mind got very distracted. All of a sudden I realized I wanted to tell Allah what else I wanted besides my ordinary "run of the mill" demands. I wanted to share my "wish list" with you, just to see if any of you have some of the same wishes that I have.

1) I wish I could master the art of living by being able to be alone in a crowd and an "anjuman" in solitude.

2) I wish I could put a caller ID on my heart and mind, so I could screen the thoughts that come to my mind and feelings that could overcome my heart.

3) I wish I could admit that I am learning more from my kids than I did from my parents.

4) I wish I could install a security check on my front door to disarm anyone of bad intentions who enters.

5) I wish my sadness had a shelf life and came with short expiration date.

6) I wish I could go skydiving and never hit the ground (reality).

7) I wish I could sneak out of my house and peek inside my family room window as an outsider to see the real dynamics of my family.

8) I wish I could come up with a magic eraser to erase those lines from the 12 hands (of my 6 beautiful children), which determine any bad luck in their lives.

9) I wish I could become delusional enough to believe that I was prettier than my prettiest friend and skinnier than my skinniest friend, because there is not even a remote possibility of this happening for real.

10) I wish I had hit menopause, or rather menopause hit me, much earlier than it did so I could blame a lot of my............ on it.

11) I wish Neiman Marcus would take it's new (strict) return policy back, or at least revise it for my sake.

12) I wish I could go on the moon and look at my "little world" and see how small my problems are.

13) I wish I could tell my "idealistic" 20 year old bride-to-be self that she has no idea what's coming.

14) I wish I could get rid of my woman's intuition, because in my humble opinion it is more trouble than it is worth.

15) I wish I could feel my mother's kiss on my cheeks and my father's hand on my head at least once before I die, if not more.

16) I wish I could buy retail and not feel guilty.

17) I wish and hope I never get caught recycling gifts.

18) I wish I could learn to rely on none other than myself and then my Creator.

19) I wish I knew how it feels to be financially independent.

20) I wish I knew what I know now, and look like what I looked at 18, so I could conquer the world.

21) I wish I would live for my children but won't have to die for them.

22) I wish I didn't know that Madonna was my age.

I wish.............I wish............I wish.....

"Hazaroun khahishey aisi kay her khawahish pay dum nikley"

Much Love,

Shehla

"APPNA"

Hi Everyone,

APPNA, the Association of Physicians of Pakistani Descent of North America, is an organization that most Pakistani physicians join here in United States. As a group, they do good work here for young Pakistani doctors and helps support a lot of charities in Pakistan. It sponsors scholarships for bright and deserving students for medical colleges in Pakistan as well. Hats off to them for that. The APPNA convention is held every year in a different state, and pakistani physicians from all over the United States and Canada come with their families to have meetings and to socialize. Despite of all these pluses regarding APPNA, in my books, there is plenty wrong with the social scene there. I have been to the APPNA convention only 6 or 7 times, so it does not make me a connoisseur on it but I think those few times were enough for me to tell you how my experience was every time I was there.

You park the car, enter the hotel, and start looking for your friends while, like bullets, dodging friends that you haven't recovered from the last time you were there. This is your first day so the excitement is overcoming your each and every sense, especially your common sense. You check your humility and modesty, if you have any, at the check-in counter as you check into the hotel. You go to your room, get (more) dressed while fighting with your husband (who despite of being a physician, still didn't want to come). You're yelling at your kids who don't want to hear your "stay in your limitation" lecture. Their logical argument of, "but mom they are all Pakistani educated muslims here" gets to you, because maybe they are too naive to know, but you are quite clear about what Pakistani educated muslims are capable of.

After having a "reality show episode" with your loving husband and beautiful children, you walk out of the room looking like a "perfect" happy family.........guilt free and not conscious at all since you are quite sure that in every second or third room couples and children had somewhat same reality show episode. You come down and as you enter the lobby you get overwhelmed with the raw smell of new money. Excessively accessorized doctor's wives are everywhere. Handbags from Chanel, Louis Vuitton, Fendi, and Gucci among many others are used as weapons to win the war of accessories. All these designers, if not dead yet, would die at the sight of Pakistani doctor's wives holding their bags as it is a lethal combination. I know it is a war, but com'on, you don't have to hold it as a hand grenade.

Although almost every woman who shows up there is pretty loaded, she still has the need and urge to judge you by the worth of your designer's accessories. As a result, you comply by accessorizing yourself to the outer limits. After being judged and judging, you have a small and insincere talk with few couples. Then some sort of ADD kicks in and you lose interest in this crowd in about fifteen minutes. Your heart and mind become incoherent to each other as one is telling you to stay and the other one is telling you to get the hell out of there.......you become oblivious to both of them since deep down you know that this is just the beginning and you are in for the long haul.

Most of the doctors you see there are generally middle aged and semi bald, who despite of having ample money, have a constant worried look on their faces. It could be because of the games their high maintenance wives and the Stock Market play with their money simultaneously. These poor rich guys are usually accompanied by a snobbish wife and bratty kids. Although I am a doctor's wife myself, I think Pakistani's doctors wives are a "breed apart".

In the evening there is a dinner, speeches and some sort of entertainment which everyone enjoys. Everything runs pretty late so you come to your room and collapse. There are a lot of designers and jewelers who come every year to hit this market: the market of insanity rolled with an insane amount of money. In the morning the ladies start running to the Bazaar, some to beat everyone else in getting the best designer jora and jewelry, and some with the notion that they are going to find a good looking girl for their son and their neighbor's son. The way they are stumbling on each other to get there, creating a stampede, you would think that their is a "buy one get one free" offer on beautiful rishtas on a first come first serve basis. This bizarre scene at the APPNA bazaar is more entertaining than the entertainment the night before. You can easily sell tickets for this circus.

After the bazaar madness dies down, there is the same lobby scene again. People are politing each other to death. Parents start their mutual courtship while their kids are already hating each other......there are bunches of unsupervised pre-teens who exhaust all elevators while testing the hotel's staff' patience on a yearly basis........you start socializing by having lunch with your old friends. This is quite enjoyable and theuraputic as well, as you see your old friends looking as bad (in some cases even worse) as you do. You start feeling good about yourself seeing that you are not the only one who has started to look old and miserable.

Later on, there is another dinner, followed by speeches and entertainment. By this time you are already regretting your decision to be here since you realize by the end of this day you have gotten more attention from ones you wanted to ignore, and ignored by ones you wanted attention from. You go through the dinner, go back to your room half dead trying to get rested to catch the bazaar scene the next morning. Since this is the last chance to get a designer jora and a "chand si dulhan" in same shot, and being the last day, on clearance, ladies usually compromise on their second choice on both counts. They walk out of the bazaar with the jora that might look horrible on them being a few sizes small, and the rishta that might even be less fitting than the jora and could pop in 6 months.

Thanks to my anti-APPNA husband(who I think has brainwashed me), we are as far and as removed from APPNA as any non-physician family would be..........I, who used to get infatuated with the idea of getting dressed up and go to these kind of events, have lost my appetite for it perhaps because I am too old to endure the madness of the bazaar and the relentless lobby scene.

Maybe in another twenty years, if I'm still alive, I will be ready to go endure another APPNA convention to scope out girls in the lobby for my baby grandson. Until then, I am still recovering from the last one.

Much Love,

Shehla

"Kaanch Ki Chooriyan "

Hi Everyone,

When I was a young girl I would love wearing "kaanch" bangles all the time, but since our school didn't allow us to wear them with our uniforms, I would only wear them on Eid holidays and family weddings. I feel I missed out on them as I missed out on so many things at that time. As they say, youth is wasted on young people. Those beautiful, colorful bangles were not fully appreciated by me, and more so not by others while they were on my young and delicate wrists as time for me to wear them went by so quickly. They were ME personified as they were as delicate as my being and as fragile as my heart at that time.

When I got married, among other jewelry, my in-laws gave me a set of twelve gold bangles. I didn't care for them much but my mother made it mandatory for me to wear them all the time as a new bride. After the weightless, colorful "kaanch" bangles that I loved wearing, these seemed like an imposition since they were a constant reminder of the fact that I was committed (or rather should have been committed). To me they were more like "handcuffs" than bangles. One day after a few years when I took them off to clean, I noticed that there were so many nicks and scratches on them, almost as many as on my soul, and ironically went unnoticed by me as mine did from everyone else. I started crying and my tears started to drop on my gold bangles, and to this day I believe that if God was looking, that scene must have stopped his universe for few moments.

I was not comfortable wearing them anymore since they were forcing me to face and acknowledge things that I didn't want to face and admit. The signs of neglect and mishandling that was evident on that piece of jewelry was slowly becoming evident on my face and body as well. I took them off and stowed them away from my eyes until the next time I went back home to Pakistan. I got them made into a heavy set of "kangans" as I thought bangles were a little too girly and their "khanak" was too noisy for me to wear. I don't know who adapted to who, but I became as sturdy as they were and they became as silent as I was.

I got tired of them as I did of so many other things in my life, but them being the only thing I could change, I decided to change them completely. I took them back home and asked my friend/jeweler Parveen to set them with diamonds all around them (nick and scratch proof diamonds). I asked her to put high polish on the golden surface so no one could see the signs of aging and erosion on them. They turned out to be exactly the way I wanted them, bold and classy.

Now I wear them all the time, and actually never take them off. If I look at them, I mean really look at them, I see myself, as they are symbolic of me. I look back at how I started as delicate, easily breakable, and easily replaceable as my "kaanch" bangles, which were not worth much, just nice to look at. I made a commitment in my life that gave me nicks and scratches but was as set in gold as my set of twelve gold bangles were, and couldn't break it. Eventually, by the grace of God, I got in a place in my life where I recognized my own worth and decided to set MYSELF in diamonds along with my bangles. There is so much that I have vested and invested in me that I don't lose any sleep over being replaced anymore.

What I learned over time is that where matter of heart and commitment are concerned, there is a very fine line between vulnerability and weakness and a strange connection between strength and vulnerability, as often times a woman's vulnerability gets a man, but only her strength makes him stay. I suggest you scotch guard your soul and safeguard your heart before you enter any commitment as I believe we should always protect our hearts. We should put it in a safe and lose the key if we have to, because this is the friend that will stay with us until our very last breath......so don't give it up easily. This is the strongest thing God blessed us women with, and we cannot allow anyone to turn it around and make it our weakness. In the process of learning how to protect my jewelry, I somehow learned how to protect my most precious possession: my heart.

Finally getting the perfect bangles for me was not that hard. All it took was a few trips to the jeweler, but getting to a place where I am in total peace with myself wasn't that easy. It took countless trips inside my being to recognize my tarnished soul, which at times was not that easy to recognize.

"Jitneeyaan tan mere te lagiyaan, tere ek lage e tu jaane

Ghulam Farid Dil othhe daiyee jithee agla kadar pachhane..."

Much Love,

Shehla

"The Common Denominator"

Hi Everyone,

My two older kids are 18 months apart, so they have been joined at the hip most of their lives and had been partners in crime. They fought a lot but couldn't survive without each other. I treated them as twins and to this day I call them "Aalia Haroon" instead of Aalia and Haroon.

When Haroon got married to Anila I was a little nervous about how Aalia was going to handle another partner in crime. Since Aalia is a BIG sister, I knew she would have a hard time sharing her baby brother with another girl since she was the only girl entitled to bully him. Although Aalia and Anila got along well from the beginning, being the neurotic mother that I am, I could not help but to worry about their relationship.

Last Eid, my wish came true since Eid was falling on Black Friday and all my children came home for Thanksgiving break. After dinner on Thursday night, Aalia and Anila started to execute their pre-meditated plan to hit the Black Friday sale at Woodbury Commons in New York at midnight. They had no problem leaving me with three kids, two frustrated husbands, and two half eaten dead turkeys, all in this order. God knows what time they came home because after wrestling with two Halal turkeys all day I was knocked out.

The next morning, Aalia woke me at 7 a.m. since my babysitting services were required again. I said, "Aalia I don't remember going off duty last night, how come I am back on this (unsolicited) duty again?" I don't think she even remembered that it was Eid that day (as Eid was falling on a very "inconvenient" day). She didn't care where the kids and husband were. Anila, of course like a GOOD BHABI, followed her lead so they both dumped their three kids on me, made me miss the Eid namaz, and ran to Short Hills Mall at 7 in the morning while the other siblings were still sleeping. I was so confused at what was so important that they had to get that their siblings had no interest in.

Well, it was the Baby Gap connection........

Then Aalia's friend Mona discovered the freakin' Gap Card, which gives extra savings and according to her lets the cardholders in on secret sales that ordinary (normal) people have no clue about. My girls jumped on this opportunity wagon and haven't gotten off since. You go girls. God only knows, and I for one don't even want to know what they do in their own home towns, but I am a witness to how they exhaust all the Gap stores every time they are in New Jersey. Both these girls become possessed as Aalia starts to hyperventilate and Anila starts talking really fast when they enter any Gap vicinity with a word "sale" written on the window. They are on the top of the sale situation and I have a feeling they know about it even before Mr. Gap decides to have one. They call each other, if for nothing else, about upcoming sales and secretly try to out do each other by getting the loot cheaper.

Anila must have already bought enough baby clothes for her five upcoming babies, and Aalia has ample clothes to last for her kids and her neighbor's kids for at least next four years. Haroon and Sohail (poor husbands) are not amused when they get the Gap bill every month, but these girls, my girls, have a speech ready to justify their shopping spree. These two very smart boys are sucked into believing that spending 100% is 10 times better than not spending at all, especially when you are getting 10% off.

Now this sisterhood has graduated to jewelry as well. When the famous jewelry store Bailey Banks & Biddle was going out of business, my girls were besides themselves. They both wanted to buy a diamond bracelet, so they got pretty exhausted while exhausting all their chain stores in New jersey, Virginia and Washington DC. Anila's Iphone came in quite handy as they would exchange pictures of the same kind of bracelets while standing in stores in different states. My other daughters described the scene as both not being able to breathe, while talking a mile a minute. It is surreal that they both ended up with the same bracelets, and now wear it together. This sisterhood of theres is getting on everyone's nerves as Shahnoor and Ariana (their baby daughters) have the same Yurman bracelets and the same diamond ear studs.

It is like a CULT.

I equally feel bad for my son and son-in-law, who are often caught at home babysitting while their wives are standing in a Gap, consulting, as well as cheering each other on to buy more.

Be careful what you wish for.

Much love,

Shehla

"Meri Zaat Zarra-e-be Nishaan"

"qismat mein meri chain say jeena likh day

dobay na kabhi mera safina likh day
jannat bhi gawara hai magar mere liyeh
ay Qatib e tadqeer Madina likh day..."

Hi Everyone,

I never considered myself a deeply religious person, and please don't put a "fatwa" on me when I say that I have followed my beautiful religion of Islam more unconsciously than consciously. I often catch up to "Haqook-e-Allah" but feel am quite up to the mark regarding "Haqook-el-ebad". When my son, Haroon, made arrangements to take me to Umrah, I was besides myself at his gesture.

Since I am not careless with my money, I always travel in economy class but this time it was more crucial to do so as my destination was Mecca Mukarma where I knew I wouldn't be classified. I entered the economy section after walking through the first class and the business class, and noticed for the first time that most people had no class whatsoever and no business being there. Noticing this, I proudly flew in the economy class along with the hopes and dreams of people like me.

As a women who lost her mother 22 years ago, I often craved the open door and wide open arms of my mother and finally got the exact same feeling as I entered Masjid-e-Nabvi in Madinah. I felt as someone was waiting here for me for the last 53 years, was so happy that I finally "came home" and I was welcome to stay as long as I wished. I could confess my sins without being judged, could admit my failures without being scolded, and could show my scars to get comfort. The courtyard of Masjid-e-Nabvi was as familiar to me as my mother's "aangan" as it gave me a sense of belonging instantaneously. The tears I shed in this holier than holy place were the same tears I shed every time I would go into my mother's arms after a long separation, the same tears that came from the embarrassment of coming up too short, and of sadness of getting there way late.

Even the azan in Madinah was very soft as it seemed someone you know quite well and trust was calling you for namaz and in a subtle way trying to put you on the right path, another thing I could relate to my mother, or any mother. I left Madinah with an assurance that everything that was not right in my life will be alright.

"Balaghal ula be kamalehi
Kasha fad dujaa bijamaalihi
Hasunat jami’u khisaalihi

Sallu ‘aleyhi wa aalih"

Although Allah (swt) lives in my heart, when I went to Mecca I was very nervous since I was going to face my creator for the very first time. I entered the Khana ka'ba and as was told, kept looking down until I got really close. I was memorizing my first du'a as I was walking up and then I looked up and what I saw......there are absolutely no words to sketch that scene, at least not in my vocabullary. I am sure I missed a few heartbeats and forgot to breathe as I felt weak in my knees. My heart, my mind, my soul, my "khudi", and my sensibility kneeled down and went in sajda before my body could as tears were rolling down my cheeks since I knew I didn't have much to show for it. I was afraid if I went in sajda, I wouldn't be able to get up as I was surrendering more than I thought I had. I was finally in front of my creator, stripped down to my soul, stripped of all my worldly belongings, which might have counted against me anyways.

My first du'a was for my six beautiful children. I started begging for their happiness, success,"sirat-ul-mustaqeem" and long and healthy lives for them as I knew only a mother's du'a could change a child's destiny. It was between me and my creator. I believed I had Almighty Allah's undivided attention when I was in front of Him, who was going to accept me with all my faults, flaws, and shortcomings, and was going to grant me anything and everything I wanted. What I wanted was all about my children as I myself didn't even exist. When all of a sudden it hit me that Allah loved me not twice, not ten times, but seventy times more than I loved my children, my eyes started drying. I started to get my strength back that only a mother's love could give a child. I stood up straight and like a little girl started telling Him what good I had done (I think) in my life. In my mind, it was like a barter system where in return I could get a few good things for my family, but frankly speaking came up quite short.

There were people of all different colors, races, and ethnicities but they all had a common denominator with me: mine and their belief in Almighty Allah and what a beautiful bond it was. I felt as connected to them as I felt with my own siblings, coming from one mother's womb. Then as I kissed "Hajr-e-aswad", it saddened me that it got darker than it was while it washed away all my sins. During "Sai" in "Safa" and "Marwa", I marveled at how brave Hazarat Hajra was. Although I was walking in an air conditioned hall and upon marble floor, which made it hard for me to empathize with the excruciating physical and mental hardships she went through, somehow I did. I started to feel her helplessness and could relate to her courage as well. The courage that is only bestowed in a mother's heart, which enables her to do anything and everything in her power and beyond for her child. Even Allah could not help but to give her what she wanted for her child........water in a barren valley, Subhan Allah.

The azan in Khana Ka'ba had an authoritative tone to it. It was telling me to drop everything, kneel down and go in sajda. It was very different from the azan I heard in Madinah.......it seemed it was from my creator.

I thought I was late in my life in getting to Mecca but when I got there, I felt it was the perfect time for me because I got pretty much out of the superficialities of this world and now understood the realities of life completely. I had already embraced my flaws and falls and knew exactly what I wanted from my creator and what my creator expected of me. Allah had given me so much without asking, but now was the time to get on my knees, cry, and beg his forgiveness. It was the time to open my "jholi" and ask him if for nothing else, to let me keep what I already had.

I feel so blessed that I stood before my creator one time before I will on the day of judgement and asked him for a second chance and a new lease on life.

Much love,

Shehla

"House without Boundaries"

Hi Everyone,

We were picked up from John F. Kennedy Airport, and were driving to my first house in New jersey, me and my new husband. I was overwhelmed with feelings of such joy that I never experienced before. I could try to put those emotions into words, but I feel there are no words to contain them. This was the house my husband bought for me a few months before we got married. He was very excited to show me, and I somehow was supposed to turn this house into a home for us.

When the car entered our neighborhood, I noticed that there were beautiful big lawns in front of all the houses, and compared to my own country (Pakistan), where even big houses have relatively smaller lawns, this was a pleasant change. The snow covered lawns were looking magical at night as the snow was brightening the whole atmosphere, and the glare from the pure white snow was blinding the dream filled eyes of this newlywed girl. It was absolutely breathtaking and seemed as if I had just entered a winter wonderland. I was admiring each and every house as eagerly waiting to see my own.

This was the last house on the street, and my eagerness and suspense was building up as I wanted my house to be the best looking house in the neighborhood. As soon as the car pulled in the driveway, my heart started to sink, as I noticed my home had no boundary walls around it. All my admiration for the novel and clever idea of open yards of other houses, which I thought was beautifully adding to each other's aesthetics, was completely taken over by a chilling feeling of insecurity as I realized that I now have to live in a hemisphere where the values to live life are going to be very different from the hemisphere I just came from. I didn't know that a flight of a mere few hours was going to compel me to face such a drastic change. I said to myself,

"How am I going to live in a house for the rest of my life that has no "chaar diwari"?

I believe in my mind that I must have imagined a house, or more like a fort with really tall walls, where I would feel protected from everything and everybody and, along with my prince charming, would live happily ever after.

I didn't say anything to my new husband but I was feeling restless during the whole night. The next day Anwar went to work and my panic got the best of me and all my excitement of coming to my first house was consumed by feelings of insecurity as I felt unsafe and abandoned. The first time someone rang the doorbell, I was very hesitant to answer since I was used to the main gate being opened, the guests being announced, and then greeting them after straightening myself up. Instead, it was a meter man impatiently waiting for the door to open so he could go about his business. I had to open the door, and as I did it seemed that not only my house, but my whole being was intruded by a stranger. I did not like this and I began to miss my parent's house even more........the house I grew up in, the house where I felt protected by four walls. This guy just barged in with his hefty snow boots and started to wipe them on the "welcome mat". I had a rude awakening.

I can't put it into words, but even after living here for a few years I did not feel any sense of belonging to this house. When I started to feel comfortable in a house without "visible" boundaries, (although I admit it took me quite a while), my whole outlook about territorial boundaries changed. During the process of developing a sense of belonging to my house with no walls, I developed a mind and a thought process that did not have any limitations as well. It could go anywhere in the world, conquer anyone's heart, and was enabled to empathize with a person of every walk, every culture, and every religion, from anywhere in the world. I was unconsciously doing what my beautiful religion of Islam required me to do. All of a sudden, the world became very small to me, small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. There was no one left on the face of this earth whose mind I couldn't read, whose heart I couldn't touch, and whose pain I couldn't feel.

Although in our culture and our religion it is very important to live in a house with four walls for "purda" and privacy, a downside to this luxury our interest doesn't have to develop boundaries and stay right inside those walls. Also, our outlook doesn't have to become myopic as we don't see beyond our interest. I am sure this privacy of a "char diwari" comes in quite handy when a wife is getting beaten, when a young "bahu" is set on fire, and even when a daughter is killed in the name of honor. Sometimes these walls are built higher than required so the world can't see inside that how humanity is being slaughtered by human beings.

People have to understand that these issues are becoming too big to fit within those four walls since the world is becoming smaller by the day. Actually they have taken a life of their own and are bringing all the boundary walls down and reaching out further than anyone imagined as well as being acknowledged by people all over the world, as we saw in the case of "Mukhtaran Mai". The world is looking down at us because even as a Muslim nation, of all people, they treat women so badly and consider them weaker than men. You might be able to fence your atrocities in them, but you can't fence these issues in them as these issues have no boundaries......not anymore.

It is ironic that the walls that are built around our houses to make them safe havens, where we can take refuge, are often times providing protection to those as well from whom we need protection.

"jinakaa dii.n pairavii-e-kazbo-riyaa hai unako

himmat-e-kufr mile, jurat-e-tahaqiiq mile
jinake sar mu.ntazir-e-teG-e-jafaa hai.n unako
dast-e-qatil ko jhaTak dene kii taufiiq mile'

-Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Much Love,

Shehla

"Um'raan Langhi'aan Pabb'aan Bhaar"

Hi Everyone,

It seems like I am running out of interesting topics since I decided to write about marriage today. It is ironic that I am doing it now when things are slowing down in my life and I never thought of writing about it when I was going through a "full blown" marriage myself.

It is a very complex subject to write about as people certainly have definite and strong opinion about it, and I can only tell you from my own experience. Since my marriage was very much arranged, I felt completely off the hook going into it. The most precious gift I got from my parents, much more than even my precious gold and diamond jewelry, was an "arranged marriage" wrapped in their du'aas and blessings as if I stayed in the marriage, they would owe me their lives and God forbid if it didn't work out, I certainly have them to blame. So I entered this holy matrimony with a carefree mind, and what else helped me was my complete belief in the old punjabi saying, "Suni si tey dari si, payi si tey sahi si". Oh God, I just realized I am describing my marriage as a traumatic experience, which by the way can easily be blamed on my subconscious or my generational attitude.

Going through even a successful marriage is quite a humbling experience as nothing else can ground you the way a husband can. It seems as all your life you were residing on seventh heaven, and just took a "one way" trip to earth, in other words, you were pushed from a "takhat" to a "takhta". In my generation there was no turning back as my parents never sat me down and lectured me, but the message was loud and clear in the three words they said as I was leaving home, "Allah thay hava'ley". If there was such a thing called prenuptial agreement in my days, it would be between a girl and her parents as opposed to with her husband and it would definitely say,

DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT.

I am a big believer of the harsh fact that the minute a girl signs her marriage papers, the demon of divorce starts following her, and she consciously or unconsciously ends up spending most of her life running away from it. Also, no matter how good of a marriage she has, she can not be fooled by the false sense of security of a husband, as this talwaar will always be hanging on her head with either a loud verbal threat, or in most cases, with a subtle message in his eyes that only she can read.

Shakespeare said, "All the world's a stage and all the men and women players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages", but I think as a married woman in both an eastern and western society, I went up a notch and surpassed many of those roles. There were quite a few surprise characters for me to play and I kept adapting to these roles as I went along in my marriage and had pretty much "on the job training".

I spent most of my married life with a poker face as I wanted to keep my husband guessing. It really bothers me that girls these days put all their cards on the table, and the courtship they have before they are married is not worth much since the logic often given is that they get to know the guy and only thing she ends up knowing is the extent of his charm. Although the downside to getting a good husband is getting a boring husband, the charm in a guy that a girl falls for during their courtship becomes as scarce as a ghost, and the "cool guy" she married turns out to be the worst kind of husband, as he is more into flirting with his ego than he is into her.

In marriage I alway chose my battles carefully, and never felt like fighting on all grounds as I learned to cut my losses and walk away with my head high. I had my share of "out of body experiences" to survive in my marriage, or rather, I should say my marriage survived on my out of body experiences. I walked out of my being to do things that were not humanly possible for me to do, or even too degrading to bear as I was sitting back watching myself do things and say words that I totally didn't believe in, and for that I have often commended myself as well as condemned.

Only a woman would know how painful it is to leave the home she grew up in, where she left her fingerprints on everything and footprints on each and every corner, but still can't dare to overstay her welcome so she takes the biggest gamble with herself and starts to walk towards the "mirage" of her husband's house, which is yet to be realized........ and then the SUFFER (English/Urdu both) begins. Although the journey from my father's house to my husband's house was only of a few hours, it seems like it took me a lifetime to get to my HOME and to realize the "mirage" of my husband's house required to check my identity, my soul, and above all my ability to feel pain at the front door.

The countless steps I took between both places left no footprints as I believe I was never on solid ground.

Much love,

Shehla

"Kuri Thi Maa Dekho"

Hi Everyone,

In 1972 when I joined Kinnaird College, something triggered panic in my mother and she embarked on a mission (somewhat like a "Mission Impossible") to get rid of me. She labeled this quest of hers "My Marriage" and started to entertain families for that sole purpose. It might be illegal now but my sister Ghazala , who was only 18 months older than me, got engaged to my first cousin at the age of 13, so I was my mother's next project since all my aunts would talk about how hard it was to get good matches for girls once they were over 20 years of age.

One odd thing that I noticed was that whenever a family would come for me, after "checking me out"they would be all about my mother. As I would be sitting there with a dumbfounded look on my face, my mother would turn on her charm, which was not hard for her as she was a very charming lady to begin with and people would get very impressed with her warmth and beautiful personality.

A few years after my mother successfully married me off (way off), I heard the old saying, "Kuri na dekho, kuri thi maa dekho", and finally figured out why my mother got more attention than I ever did from those "godforsaken" rishtas. If you look at it realistically, it makes good sense that when you look at the mother, you can pretty much tell how this skinny, shy girl is going to turn out, or more importantly, what she'll look like a few years down the line. When I repeatedly caught myself behaving and talking just like my mother, I started believing in this old saying as well.

Since I am a mother of four daughters, I find myself in the same situation that my poor mother was in more than 30 years ago. Actually it puts a lot of pressure on me, and on top of that, people are not as subtle and refined as they used to be. A couple of families took it a little too far, following the old saying literally and keeping their focus on me although I would still have the same dumbfounded look on my face. I am pretty sure they thought that there was going to be a "package deal" and somehow I was going to be a part of that package, meaning whatever my daughters lacked (being American born) I would make up for (such as a 'chicken chawal supply line'). I don't know if any of you have experienced anything like that yet, but I am quite sure you will.

I have a NEWS FLASH for all the suitors and their families: whoever came or will come for my daughters or your daughters......our daughters may look like us, but they won't be as patient, as compromising, and definitely not as subservient as we were, so please stop looking at us and look at them because with this generation, "what you see is what you get".

"Kuri thi maa na dekho, kuri dekho"

Much love,

Shehla

"The Roving Eye"

Hi Everyone,

Anwar and I have an American friend whose wife died suddenly, leaving two young children behind ages 8 and 10. The guy was devastated. My husband and I used to wonder if he was ever going to recover from this tragedy, but then his recovery turned out to be more instant than instant coffee as one fine morning I saw him with his new bride, looking happier than ever. I literally did a double take.

The question that came to my mind was: how come husbands "recover" so quickly from wives, "dead" or "alive"? I think that the second they say "I DO" they are already in recovery, and the minute she goes or overstays her welcome (overstay in some cases can easily start right away) in the holy matrimony, they take a plunge somewhere else in the pursuit of happiness and often times, like Tiger Woods ended up, "looking for love " in all the wrong places.

Tiger Woods, who is well liked and admired, is someone that I, for some reason, never cared for. I don't trust a guy who hardly blinks his eyes......he scares the daylights out of me. Having a gorgeous and classy looking wife as well as two beautiful children obviously was not "sweet" enough for him as he popped quite a few bimbos like Tic Tacs.

Then comes John Edwards, who tries too hard to look like a decent "all American" guy. However, his icy, glassy blue eyes are a dead giveaway that he can't fool us and especially not his wife for long. I don't mean to make light of such a sad situation but I think his terminally ill wife is staying alive just to eat him piece-by-piece.......YOU GO GIRL.

Prince Charles, in my opinion, is a classic example of a husband who moved on faster than expected. Although he was divorced at the time, I still think he traded in his beautiful, classic trophy wife Lady Diana with Camilla Parker Bowles, which is like trading in a 7 Series black BMW (my all time favorite) for a mousy gray Chrysler minivan. We all know that every guy wants to marry his mother, but he went a little too far.

The "Hollywood handsome" Bill Clinton, who in my humble opinion was too good looking for a president, jeopardized his "stay" in the White House just because his "roving eye" spotted a young, plump, goofy looking intern while he had a wife with a brain and intellect that any man would fall in love with. Any man but her husband that is, which makes sense since being a smart woman is a big negative for a successful marriage.

Last but not least is the president of my beloved country Pakistan, Asif Ali Zardari. My last memory of him before he crowned himself to the throne of Pakistan People's Party was when he was walking behind Benazir Bhutto as she was entering The National Assembly as a Prime Minister. He was wearing an ordinary shalwar kameez and a traditional Sindhi topi, looking like her hired help with a personality of -5 on a scale of 1-10. After her untimely demise, you see him now wearing well tailored Italian suits, with a hairdo that up until now only Clark Gable could pull off, and a non stop smirk that annoys the hell out of everybody. He is literally laughing all the way to the Swiss banks.

I have been married long enough but still fail to understand what it is in a husband's psyche that makes him take these plunges so fearlessly. The justification often provided is that they were not getting enough "love" at home. If they can't make their wives love them who else do they have a chance with?

All the men mentioned above are very different from each other and are from different walks of life. The only thing they might have in common, besides the lack of common sense, is an overrated male ego, then again inflated by lack of common sense. I was told by one of my friends, who lives in Pakistan, that back home having a Pajero Jeep and a girlfriend on the side (in that order) is a status symbol for rich, middle aged guys. I believe, regarding this very serious issue, that husbands behave like little, impressionable boys who have to have what the other boy has.

It seems that a husband's infidelity has become an epidemic. You can definitely categorize it as an infectious virus, and since science has developed Lasik surgery for the corrective vision, let's hope they can come up with a cure for the disease which could be more contagious than "pink eye", in this case, the "roving eye".

Much love,

Shehla

"Aye mere pya'rey watan, pak watan, pak watan"

Hi Everyone,

Although I left Pakistan at a young age and have lived in America for more than thirty years and am a citizen here now, I am still a Pakistani at heart. I was born a Pakistani, and will die a Pakistani insha'Allah.

Going back every year to my country has been a routine of mine from the beginning. I loved going home as it gave me strength of identity, sense of belonging, and kept me grounded as well. When my children were younger and my mother was "hayat", I used to stay for a few months at every visit. I would go in December, come back in April, and within couple of months started planning my next trip back.

When my father and my family started to come to visit me more often, you would think my "dying" to go back would "die" down a little, but it didn't. This made me realize that not only did I miss my family, but I craved the feeling of "coming home" to my country as well. As they say "you can take a girl out of Pakistan but you can't take Pakistan out of a girl". I just knew I had to go there.

I would get on the freakin' PIA (Pakistan's national airline) and start sucking up to Allah Mian big time for a safe landing since one of my friends told me PIA stands for "Please Inform Allah." When I would land, I'd start getting strange vibes as people at the airport were "unnecessarily" rude and only God knows for what reason resentful. One obvious reason could be that perhaps they thought that while I was cruising along from the Land of Oz, I decided to make a pit stop in Pakistan, on the way to the Garden of Eden, where dollars were growing in my backyard and all I had to do to get my share was to go out and pluck as many as my heart desired.....well I never wanted to correct them. When I would get out of the airport my eagerly awaiting family would make me feel very special, and my trip would already be well worth it.

Every year when I went back I would notice that my parents had aged a little, the kids there had grown taller, and the cost of living had gone up a little, but these changes would be quite subtle. Maybe I was nostalgic as I, for my own selfish reasons, wanted everything and everybody to stay the same and would have a hard time dealing with these changes.

For last ten years the changes I experienced every year have graduated from being subtle to pretty shocking. Now when I plan a trip back home, I make sure my will is updated. I land, come out of the airport and insecurity starts following me until the day I leave. I go to the bazaar and am astonished at what they are charging me for an outfit is much more than they would pay for a human life. Cost of LIVING is more than LIVING themselves, as things were never this "mehangi" and human life was never this "sassti." The contrast is mind blowing and the sad part is that the gap is getting wider between the two every time I go. It takes one trip to the bazaar for me to see how life has deteriorated in Pakistan in every sense of the word as what I see is a sea of people, some with deprivation, some with sadness, and some with hostility and anger in their eyes. To see countless young men around my son's age standing around the streets or roaming in bazars aimlessly wasting away their lives is quite heartbreaking.

And then there are bomb explosions which are not discriminating anymore. You go for Jummah prayers with your sons and might not come back. You send your child to school and the last thing on your mind would be his performance there. You can go to the slums, flea markets, or the fanciest restaurants and posh areas, and the terror will find you........"khoon ki khushbu" is everywhere. It is a sad sad time for my beloved country as our world renowned "Sajeeley Jawan" who lived to protect our borders, are dying almost everyday on the streets of almost every city in Pakistan while protecting Pakistan from the people of Pakistan.

I always believed that circumstances around us don't change as much as our "outlook" changes about them. Since I have lived abroad most of my life, my take on life has definitely changed. It saddens me to admit that this theory of mine is completely thrown out of the window regarding my beloved Pakistan as the kindness, forgiveness, and regard for humans which was weaved into our souls with the thread of our beautiful religion and culture is nowhere to be found and these things have vanished so quickly that my poor "outlook" is having trouble catching up.

The hardest thing for me to swallow personally are people's attitudes towards each other. The "nafsa nafsi" that I always related to the "Day of Qayamat" is evident in people from every class and every walk of life. Ever since I was a kid, I was told that on the Day of Qayamat there will be commotion everywhere, people will be running around, the earth will open up, and every soul will be all about itself, even to the extent that a mother won't know her own son. It hits me hard as I feel people from my beloved Pakistan are already experiencing Qayamat almost everyday as a mother whose son is blown apart into pieces, beyond recognition, has already gone through it.

"PAKISTAN PA'INDABAD"

Much love,

Shehla

"Teri do takk'yan di nokri, mera lakh'oun ka sawan jaaye"

Hi Everyone,

One of my friends sent me a joke a few days ago about a husband who could not send his wife his salary that month due to the bad economy, so he sent her his love in the form of one hundred "kisses". The wife writes him back telling him how she distributed his "love" to the milkman, electrician and landlord to survive that month. This was the second time I received this joke and I found it hysterically funny.

Last night I was thinking about this scenario and I started to look at the seriousness of this issue. A husband leaving young wife behind, often times with young children, is quite common in a third world country like ours, Pakistan. Even my own brother-in-law, who was a captain in the Pakistan Army at the time, had to leave my sister and young children behind when he went abroad or for Army Exercises where he couldn't take family.

In Pakistan you would hardly find any family who does not have a male member living abroad, and the ratio of the wives and children left behind is quite high. To empathize with these women is not only hard for me, it is quite impossible. Often times these girls find out after they get married that they just became "third wheel" of a money making machine, who is going to support his family for the rest of his life, while "sunehrey din"of her life would be spent waiting for him, his money orders or both. These young girls can easily count their husband's visits on their fingers. And as time goes by, with expenditures increased, these visits become more seldom since heftier money orders are required.

Since most of these women are young, because of culture imposed limitations, family dynamics and "above all" economic conditions they are bound to live with their in-laws. Living in a close environment of the joint family system helps support them in so many aspects of their life, but I feel all through their life they fight an uphill battle to survive in our cruel and not very forgiving society, without the shield called a husband. Then there is another aspect to it which is heartbreaking. With time these girls become an easy target for all kinds of exploitation. Some have to face a lot of finger pointing as well, and the mistrust that follows often leads to irreparable damages, like divorce.

On the flip side, life is extremely hard for young men who come abroad looking to make a decent living so they can provide their families back home with a comfortable life. Since they have to send whatever money they make home, they live in adverse conditions, while their families often don't even realize what they go through. There is a whole generation of SONS growing up without the presence or supervision of the FATHERS and the compensation they receive every month in the form of money often times hurts more than it helps, as these young boys get these rewards, without seeing the trials and tribulations their fathers had to go through to come up with that sum. It is a no win situation on either side.

I have four grown daughters, and I have learnt to look at issues like this with their perspective as well. Since they are born and raised in America, their take on this is quite different. They can't imagine a marriage where the husband is an absentee, and where they have to live with their in-laws, along with their children. It is hard for my daughters to even comprehend this scenario as they are raised in a "rich" and "fair" society.

AFTER ALL IT IS ALL ABOUT ECONOMICS

Much love,

Shehla