"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