Category: Sunday Post

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Five Books Close To My Heart

Some things in life are so profound that they leave behind a permanent mark. When you are a bookworm, the same is true for some books. Over the years there have been many books that have left me speechless with wonder. Here, I’m listing down those books that have stayed with me for years, even if they’re not very popular. The common thing in all these books is the fact that I read them all in school, mostly during the Middle years. Since then, I have read them again and again, and even though the older and wiser me sometimes finds some things outright objectionable in them, I can never dislike these books. So here goes

.Anne of Green Gables L. M. Montgomery

I might have first read this book more then 30 years ago, but I have yet to come across a girl like Anne. She is my ideal of what a girl should be. She is strong, capable, opinionated, but not afraid to ask for help and stand up for her friends. If ever there was a love story to dream about, then it has to be Anne and Gilbert: partners and equals in everything. Of course, I love the whole series. Not only is Anne a strong girl, she proves that a woman can excel in any role. She can be a friend, a teacher, a wife and a mother. She needs to believe in herself, and surround herself with people who lift her up instead of bringing her down. Anne Shirley was, is, and always will be, a great role model for girls all over the world.

Pride And Prejudice Jane Austen

This has to be the most cliched book on my list! This is perhaps the only love story that I love unashamedly, no matter how many times I read it. I have been in love with Darcy for the longest time. To date, he remains the one hero who I can never look critically at. People would say that my age played an important role in making this one of my favourite books, but that wouldn’t be true. I have read it again and again, every year for almost three decades, and I have never gotten bored with this feel-good book. Of course, I am not a fan of Jane and Bingley, but when it comes to Elizabeth and Darcy, all else pales in comparison. All this gushing only goes to show how deeply I love this particular book!

Wuthering Heights Emily Bronte

This is the book that has divided critics in two opposite camps. Some people think that Heathcliff is the height of romanticism, a hero that every woman sighs after. Some people, on the other hand, believe that this book presents a warped idea of romance, cruel and sadistic. I lie somewhere in the middle of these two groups. As far as the book goes, I love it with all my heart, complete with the craziness and cruelty. However, I have never looked upon Wuthering Heights as a love story. To me, it has always been about ego and revenge, and about flawed humans who don’t know any better. Catherine is one of the most hateful characters that I have come across, manipulative yet confused. Heathcliff is hot headed and vengeful. They are at no point a couple made for each other.

There is nothing romantic about their relationship. For me, Wuthering Heights is a cautionary tale about two people who not only destroy themselves, but also wreck the lives of everyone around them.

The Scarlet Pimpernel Baroness Orczy

I borrowed The Scarlet Pimpernel from the school library because I couldn’t find any good options that week during library class. I had no idea that it would become such a favourite with me. This book takes you on an adventure that you don’t want to end, the earliest version of a superhero tale. Set during the French Revolution, it is the story of a courageous and cunning man who risks his life to rescue French aristocrats and brings them to safety in England. The twist is that no one knows who this superhero is, who defies the French revolutionaries and makes them look foolish to boot.

The unexpected identity of the The Scarlet Pimpernel, and the unlikely love story that unfolds is only a part of this thoroughly enjoyable and hilarious tale. There are some laugh-out-loud moments as well as those that make you groan because of their ridiculousness. I like to read this book every time I feel like a laugh or two.

A Tale of Two Cities Charles Dickens

As far as settings go, A Tale of Two Cities is also set during the French Revolution, but there is nothing funny about this book. I have read many books by Charles Dickens, only because they were in my curriculum, and he is not one of my favorite authors. This book however, is an exception. Even Dickens himself thought of it as his finest work, and I have to agree. Sydney Carton is a superhero of a different kind. He is lazy and laid back, and has no ambition whatsoever. But in a story about a doctor, his daughter and her husband, Carton emerges as the savior of them all.

The book opens with some of the most well known lines in literature, yet it is the last monologue that makes my heart ache every single time that I read it. In a world full of handsome, upstanding and golden men like Charles Darnay, I’d rather have the flawed and very human Sydney Carton whose love is selfless and expects nothing in return.

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Winter Break: A COVID Story

Winter break. A time when everyone and their neighbour feel it’s their duty to travel. At least they did, until the world was hit by the Coronavirus, and it became prudent to stay put wherever you are. Thankfully, I have never claimed to be very prudent. And so it was that we decided to go back home for a visit with the family, stopping over at Dubai on the way.

The first shock came when our online application of a UAE visa was denied. It had never happened before. We visit UAE at least once a year since moving from Dubai around 4 years ago. Over the last decade Dubai has been like home to us, so a rejected visa was unthinkable and unprecedented. Fortunately, we found out soon enough that some processes were changed during the last year because of the havoc caused by Covid’19.

Once it was all cleared and we managed to get the visa, our tickets became problematic. Now, these are all very minor problems from the point of view of someone who travels internationally at least 4 times a year. Or used to back in the good old days! This winter, we wanted to defy all odds and see our family after more than a year of missing them. So, we soldiered on, making plans for an epic winter break, to wash away all the woes that 2020 had brought with it.

We landed in Dubai, happy to be back home, excited to meet our family. Two days were spent in this happy haze, and then disaster struck. The new strain of the virus, discovered in the UK, became a cause of concern for other countries. As a result, Saudi Arabia closed its air space and cancelled all flights to and from the country. We could be stuck away from our home for months to come.

Amazingly enough, other people seemed more worried about us than we were ourselves. There were concerned messages and calls from people around the world, friends and family alike. I told them all one thing: Let me enjoy my break. There is nothing to be gained by worrying about something that I cannot change. I was there to have fun, not worry about what the future might hold for us.

After making the most of our week-long stay in Dubai, we made our way to Karachi. Whenever we go back home, we know that no matter how long we stay, it will always be too short. There is just too much to do, and too little time to do it. Our original plan was for 10 days, and honestly, we were hopeful that the airspace will open up by that time. No such luck.

As days passed, we started becoming a bit worried. The kids had to start school, albeit online, and the husband had his work. There are always connectivity issues in Karachi because too many people use one internet connection, and it seems wasteful to buy new connections when none of us stay there for too long. This time we had to make alternate arrangements.

Three days before our return, the airline informed us that our flight was cancelled. It was time to worry. Last year, we saw people stuck in other countries for months on end; families separated, learning to survive without each other. At least we were all together. Still, the stress levels were at an all-time high.

As luck would have it, Saudi Arabia decided to open up their airspace…on the day of our original flight! Unfortunately, that flight had already been cancelled, and we had to book a new flight back home. That proved to be another adventure since every passenger on the flights cancelled during the three weeks wanted to book the earliest flight home! Luck was with us and we managed to get a flight a week from our original date of departure. But the story doesn’t end here.

Somehow, my middle son’s booking got mixed up and he had to get a separate booking. It was all normal, until all our seats were confirmed except his. So, another round of uncertainty started where we weren’t sure if we would all stay back with him or if one of us should stay and the others leave.

This continued until two days before we were to leave. Wonder of wonders, the airline people finally realized that he is a minor and cannot travel without a guardian. But by then we were under a different threat! Karachi became the focal point of an ongoing protest. The roads were permanently blocked, and getting to the airport was downright impossible! The 20 minute journey from our place was taking 2-3 hours!

We planned and prepared for the worst, but 10 hours before we were due to fly, the protest abruptly ended. Our way was clear. It was a miracle how things were working out for us even in the most adverse circumstances. God is truly great, and works in mysterious ways. This winter became memorable for us like no other winter before.

There is a whole other story of the fainting woman in front of us, while we were boarding the final leg of our flight. And the delay in flight because someone decided to get off the flight and they had to perform a whole security check! *facepalm* But these stories will make this even longer.

I am forever grateful that we managed to spend amazing time with family after a long time. This winter break goes in the family history as one of the most happening and happy times of last year. All of us needed this end to the strangest year of our lives.

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Sunday Annoyance: Blurbs That Mislead And Confuse

There used to be a time, that you bought a book based on its blurb. Blurbs are what is usually on the back cover of a paperback or on the inside flap of a hardcover. It summarizes the contents of that book without giving too much away. At the same time, it builds up interest in the book, making people want to buy it.

For most people, buying a book does not require much research and analysis. There are two types of buying behaviors:

  1. When you know exactly what you want based on recommendations/ reviews by people you trust; or you have specific requirements eg. studies and research etc.
  2. When you make book buying decisions on the spur-of-the-moment. This may be because of many factors, like attractive book covers, prominent display or most often, blurbs of the books.

For serious (and serial) book buyers, the contents of a book matter the most; and the best way to make a guess about these contents is to read the summary at the back. Lately, this has become a very difficult thing to do.

As the race to reach the various best seller lists is becoming harder, many publishing houses are coming up with new ways to market books and make them more attractive for the consumers. The most common tactic seems to be endorsements from other more famous authors, or popular reviewers.

This wasn’t too bad when it was restricted to a single page inside the cover, or if the reviewer was really famous, somewhere on the front or back cover of the book. Now, all you find on the back cover are proclamations by other people or newspapers about how exciting this new book is. You open the book, and there are 2 more pages of the same!

First of all, I cannot believe how all these famous authors have the time to read all this new work. And if they do, then how can they gush about it in such a fake way? What this is actually doing is making readers question the integrity of well-known authors and well-established newspapers. The fact is that nobody cares what Stephen King or Lee Child or Daily Mail think of this book; it doesn’t really matter what bestselling list it has managed to climb. What is important is that a reader wants to know what the book is about. And these marketing gimmicks are taking away a reader’s right to make up their own mind.

How is it possible that publishing houses don’t realize that 2 or 3 pages of endorsements are less likely to sell the book, than interesting and seductive blurbs? It is nice to see that a famous author enjoyed the book, but it is also nice to feel like your choices are your own. I wish marketing departments realize that selling a book is not like selling other commodities on TV. There needs to be a limit to stop feeding egos of the writers and start thinking about actual readers.

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Sunday Disappointment: The Vanishing Airport Bookstores

For the last 10 years, travel has been a major part of my life. I have been living the life of an expat in the Middle East, frequently travelling back home, in addition to going on vacations. This has meant that I travel to and from different destinations an average of at least 4 times a year. The one thing that has never changed in these 10 years, is my foray into the airport bookstores.

I always have an unsurmountable stack of books to read, which means that I always carry 2-3 books with me whenever I travel. Yet, there is a pull towards these bookstores that I cannot define, and almost always end up buying at least one book even if I don’t really need it.

I love browsing in bookshops, taking in the colours and the smells, finding out about new authors and new books. At airports I get enough time to indulge in this activity, unless we’re running really late, which we hardly ever are, because I have a fear of missing my flight. For the last 4 years, ever since I have moved to Riyadh, I can only indulge myself during return trips, since Riyadh airport doesn’t have a bookstore yet. I’m hoping this will change in the near future. Until then I have to be happy with other airports.

One of my most favourite places in this context has always been the Karachi Airport bookshop. It is one of the best airport bookstores that I have come across especially if I want to buy any Urdu books. Often we end up buying 3-4 books each as a family from this particular place. It is always difficult to carry those books because we already have hand carries that are ready to burst open. Yet we have still managed to do this successfully for a decade now.

So imagine my shock and sadness when last week while travelling back from Karachi, we found the bookstore not only closed, but its shelves stripped of all books, looking lonely and haunted. This pandemic has hurt many businesses, but this one really hit me hard. I had never realized how much I loved this small space full of books. I always made sure to keep aside enough local currency to spend on last minute book purchases.

Of course, I should have realized that this will happen. I had already seen Dubai airport closed down during our layover while going to Karachi. However, the actual sight of those empty shelves and plastic covered space struck my heart. I know I’m being overly dramatic. There are bookstores all over the city that are not only open, but also delivering books at home! But when you are so used to seeing something and spending time with it, it becomes a part of you; you become attached to it, and you start looking at it with affection.

I really miss that little bookstore, and pray for better times when browsing for books is not dangerous and risky. Until then, I have my local bookstores to keep me company and cheering me up.

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Sunday Disaster Story: The Over-Smart Blogger

A few days ago, I received some unexpected help from a well-wisher who had nothing to gain. She gave me some valuable advice and provided resources to help make my blog better. Before that, I used to update blog posts without giving any thought to numbers, or tracking the audience. No one had ever guided me in this way, mostly because I never bothered to ask for help.

It would have been fine if I had just followed her advice and refrained from trying to act over-smart myself! Unfortunately, I am not that person. So, as it happened, I decided to make my blog a bit more professional by switching the hosting platform. Previously, I had been held back because it seemed like a lot of money and it was my first time writing a blog. Now, I had 2 years’ worth of experience, and I thought I might as well try to increase my reach. Big mistake.

I’m not an IT person. Whatever I know about software is from 20 years ago I think, and a bigger person would have realized their shortcomings. Me, I thought what could be so difficult about it, and proceeded to implement my plan. Within 2 minutes, I managed to work out how to backup my work and copy it onto the new blog. So far, so good.

I registered with the new host, and somehow got it into my head that everything will run smoothly and I will never even know the difference. Then something happened, and I erased the whole original website, wiped it off the face of the internet! And try as I might, I couldn’t get the new version to work properly. I was in hysterics. It felt like 2 years worth of my work just went down the drain, and nothing was left anymore.

It took 2 days of banging my head against my laptop to finally get some semblance of a blog. My biggest achievement was that I managed to retain the previous data. I had written some 110 plus blog posts, all with pictures and proper categories and tagging. Thankfully, most of it was intact. I did lose all the pictures and am still in the process of attaching new ones to the posts, but by and large, the old blog posts are still intact.

For the last 5-6 days, I have been trying to learn the inner workings of this new blog, and I can’t say that I have been too successful. The images are giving me a lot of trouble, and I keep messing up the software by tinkering with its inner workings. I look up fixes and try to implement them. Sometimes it backfires, while other times I’m just unaware of what I have managed to meddle with.

I’m getting so much data feedback that I don’t understand at all, and I’m forced to think if it was worth all that trouble? Perhaps not. But I did learn a valuable lesson: if you want to go head-to-head with your software, find a comfortable place to sit. Your butt will be very thankful.

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Sunday Discussion: Are We Giving Up On Our Mother Tongue?

My mother tongue is Urdu. As an expat living in the Middle East for the last 10 years, one of the things that I am most ashamed of is that I have not been too diligent in teaching my children my mother tongue. Of course, they speak the language and understand it. Two of them can even read it, but it is like a foreign language to them; they will never use it if they can get away with using English.

When we first moved away from Pakistan, my children were 5.5 years, 2 years, and 10 months old. The eldest knew how to read and write Urdu. Today he is the only one who is most comfortable speaking it. The younger two have not known a single day of schooling in Pakistan. It was always up to me to teach them.

I remember I asked my aunt to send me some Urdu and Math workbooks when the younger ones became old enough to go to school. My aunt, being the teacher that she is, got a huge stack of workbooks, 3-4 different ones, each ranging from kindergarten to Grade 7. I would love to say that I was able to teach my kids something from them, but that isn’t true.

Over the next few years I would try and fail time and again to get them to learn the language. The eldest one, being the quick study that he is, and because he already had a rudimentary knowledge of the language, was the only one who seemed to get something out of these exercises. The middle one has only recently started taking Urdu classes along with the eldest, and is making better progress. It’s the youngest one who makes me despair. She is the weakest when it comes to Urdu. Yet she is the only one not taking a class to remedy this situation!

While this is a problem for me and my husband because we love our language, and want our kids to remain in touch with their motherland, it is not the same with all parents, even the ones living in Pakistan! Over the last 10 years, the thing that has pained me the most while visiting my country has been the fact that people have stopped using Urdu. Everywhere I go, I see parents talking to their small kids in English. It is like they are trying to prove something that doesn’t need to be proven.

I used to be happy going back because I felt that my kids would learn something while they were there. All 3 of them had strict instructions to talk in Urdu to everyone. Unfortunately, many adults still think that my kids provide the perfect opportunity for their kids to polish their English language skills! It might seem over the top, but I have had women ask me to tell my children to speak in English to their kids, as they don’t allow their children to talk in Urdu in their schools, and as a consequence, at home! (This was truly a facepalm moment for me, and the lowest when talking about my language, sadly.)

Language is a big part of national identity for any nation. It is one of the major factors that differentiates people from the rest of the world. When I see young people in my country saying that they took easy Urdu in school, and feeling proud of it, I feel a pang in my heart. All over the world people take pride in their mother tongue. They prefer to talk in their own language than in any other; why is it that we are so different? Why are our schools not promoting our own language? I have seen schools here in the Middle East insisting on teaching Arabic to all students, especially the locals, so that they don’t lose their language to modern schooling and English. Yet, here we are, churning out students who are proud of the fact that they are weak in their own language.

Urdu has been the chosen language of great poets and authors for centuries, yet these great writers find very little readership today. How many young people can boast about having read Manto or Naseem Hijazi or Intizar Husain? How many know about Quratulain Haider or Khadija Mastoor or Ismat Chughtai? Are there any twenty-somethings who can claim to know Mir or Ghalib or even Faiz or Faraz or Nasir Kazmi?

We, as a nation, and I’m not excluding myself, are doing a grave injustice to our beautiful language. It is good to move with the world and become a global citizen, yet it is also essential to keep your own individual identity, to be unique in your own right. In trying to keep up with the world, we seem to be losing out on keeping up with our true selves. We have to collectively try and undo the damage that we have done to our own language. We need work hard to teach our future generations, or we are the ones who will turn out to be the eventual losers.

I don’t mean to say that everyone should suddenly start reading huge tomes written in a language that you find incomprehensible. I just want us to start loving our mother tongue and trying our best to show that love. Once we start trying, our future generations might also follow suit and save Urdu from becoming a forgotten language.

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Sunday Pet Peeve: The Pakistani Stereotype

Last week I read a book by a well known Pakistani author. I was looking forward to reading it, the author being someone I really admire in real life. As I delved deeper into the book, I couldn’t help but be disappointed. On the surface, there wasn’t anything wrong with the story or the characters, yet something kept nagging at me. After a while I realized what it was that was bothering me so much. It is the same thing that I have encountered time and again in many books, some of which have been popular worldwide: Stereotype.

When you’re reading about a place close to your heart, or about people like you or like someone you know, you become sensitive to the smallest of details and nuances. You start seeing discrepancies and false facts, sometimes exaggerations and even blatant lies. Ideally it shouldn’t matter too much. Everyone has the right to put their original thoughts on paper, and the world can go hang! Sometimes, however, it is not so easy to overlook this perpetuation of stereotype.

My problem has never been with the stories or the actual things happening in these books. My beef is with authors who seem to be writing things that they have no idea about. It shows lack of proper research and lazy editing.

Many people accused me of being oblivious to the multitude of sins this city hides, when I criticized Karachi, You’re Killing Me. It makes Karachi seem like a city of drug filled parties and sex and booze. I have always considered Moth Smoke an amazing book, and that whole book is about drugs, parties and all such. While one paints the 20-somethings of the whole city with the same brush, the second one makes it clear that it is talking about one segment of the city. And this is where the difference lies.

When you read The Party Worker, you will see the political under belly of this very city. A city where drugs, alcohol, sex and murder are rampant and unapologetic. Yet you will never think that this is all that Karachi has to offer. It is not the story, the characters or their actions that are problematic, it is the way they are presented in the text. Any metropolitan city in the world has many shades, no one can claim to know all of them. The least a writer can do is realize that what they’re writing does not represent the city as a whole. It is but a subset that the writer has had experience with.

Then there is the Urdu in these books. With the example of so many Hollywood Movies and TV shows getting the language wrong, one would expect the local writers to put a little more effort in using proper Urdu words wherever necessary. There have been countless instances where the word used has been correct, but its tense or form is wrong. To a person who knows the language, this just seems like sloppy writing.

In my opinion, this has mainly to do with the fact that most of our English writers are not very proficient with their mother tongue. They come from a certain educational background which makes them unaware of what they are doing wrong. This is what editors are for. Unfortunately, foreign publishing houses and editors take it for granted that the writer would know their own language. They don’t realize that knowing how to speak a language doesn’t automatically make you an expert at it.

It is unfortunate that we as a nation don’t own our language, and that it is Urdu that is a foreign language for us. The disparity in our education system is such that it is difficult to find writers proficient in both languages. Educational institutions that give importance to one and ignore the other, leading to this unfortunate result.

Now I come to the problem with how Muslims are depicted in books. I am so tired of reading the same depictions of Muslim, either religious fanatics or complete liberals. It is time to move on from the Bollywood stereotype of topi-wearing, checkered handkerchief-carrying men, with eyes full of kajal, and mouths full of Astaghfirullahs! The world happens to be full of Muslims who are not at either extreme. It seems like most writers are trying to pander to a set narrative. They are writing that which appeals to the western audience. And when you write to please someone other than yourself, it shows in your writing.

I wanted to write about all the books that I find problematic in this sense. However, I’d rather talk about books like A Place For Us and The Family Tree. Books that show the face of millions of Muslims living all over the world not up in arms or drowned in alcohol. Again, I’m not denying the existence of militants or people who have turned away from religion. But in all fairness, it is absurd to stereotype all Muslims and make it seem that these are the only ones left on this earth.

While I can rant and rave about the injustice of misrepresentation for hours, I think I should stop here. This blog is just a way for me to let out some steam. It is in no way meant to offend or please anyone. I write my thoughts without censoring them (much!) So, that’s all for today. Until next time.

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Friendship Trope In Real Life

This is an ode to the friendship of all those people who have stuck by me through thick and thin, uplifted me and supported me, and sometimes even fed me to the wolves! Ladies and gentlemen, these people are commonly known as my friends. While I love all of them unconditionally, I have to admit that there are a few who embody the saying that who needs enemies when you have friends like these!

I have always been somewhat cold about friendships. I have left people behind and moved on. Even as it shames me when I think about it, I don’t think I have any lasting regrets except one. So, for a person like me, to realize that I still have friends from school who I count as my biggest supports, is quite a revelation. When I say school friends, I’m talking about 30 odd years of friendship here. That in itself is an achievement. To be able to stay together for this long even if we talk once or twice a year, is something that makes me feel warm inside. These are my Harry Potter friends. They have seen me through childhood, adolescence, adulthood, and will probably be there to send me into insanity when I’m old and wrinkled!

People say that you form the strongest bonds with your school friends. While it is true, I have also found everlasting friendship in my university. These people, they refuse to leave me alone, and drag me into every crazy conversation that they’re having. Over the last 20 years, it is they who have made efforts to keep me in the loop, me being the one to do occasional disappearing acts. These are my Lord Of The Rings friends. Always ready to make grand plans and taking me on useless adventures. They make me roll my eyes and take the most pleasure in yanking their chains.

I worked in a corporate sector for just one year, and managed to make a couple of lifelong friends. My Travelling Cat Chronicles friends. I don’t see them for years, don’t talk to them for months. They live in completely different parts of the world now. Yet, I know that any time I need help, I can just call upon them and they will be there.  I know this because I have done it, and they have proven me right.

As I entered my thirties, I knew that I would never make new best friends again. It was too late, I was too set in my ways and a little bit anti-social, if I am honest.

Little did I know that just around the corner waited 5 women who would turn my life upside down. On the surface it made sense that we got together: our husbands worked in the same office, our kids went to the same school, and we lived in approximately the same vicinity. Yet, out of the many women who came under this category, the 6 of us found our way to each other. And it isn’t our husbands or kids that still keep us connected even when we are thousands of miles apart now. This is the kind of friendship that is very hard to find in the world. I present to you, my Big Little Lies friends. They are loud, irreverent, funny and will probably commit murder one of these days!

These are just a few of the friends that I am grateful for. Over the years, I have gone through regular phases of being too social or completely anti-social. I have made friends, lost touch with them, moved on, reconnected, lost touch again and so on, so forth. Some of them have stuck by me despite my shortcomings, making time for me whenever I have needed them to. I came to appreciate these amazing people when I was going through a personal tragedy a couple of years ago. They showed up, ready to support me even when I had been absent from their lives for the longest of times. 

I am thankful for all these thoughtful people today; my friends, my tribe, my family by choice.

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Family In The Time Of Pandemic

If the last few months have taught me anything, it’s the importance of family in my life. I have been worried about aunts, uncles and cousins; trying to keep in touch with them as much as I can. It is not easy since my family is spread all over the world. They live in all kinds of crazy time zones, but social media makes it possible. I will forever be grateful to modern technology for this.

I have a large family. My father had five siblings, while my mother has six. It might seem strange in this day and age, but the love among the siblings also transferred into their offspring. So, having cousins living far away in other countries didn’t stop us from loving each other, even when there was no internet or cell phones. To others it still seems like a strange dynamic, but this has always been our normal.

During this lock down, I have had the opportunity to re-connect with the elders who I have looked up to all my life. I have worried about them, scolded them, cried with them and listened to them while they scolded me. It has been the closest that I have ever felt to them; all while sitting in our homes in different countries and sometimes even continents.

As for my cousins, it is sometimes difficult to make people understand that my cousins are my oldest friends. I was friends with them before I knew what friendship was. We have navigated our lives together, giving each other support and encouragement. Even though blood bonds us, our ties are so much more than just that. And that goes for all of them, no matter how much older or younger they are, they’re still my go-to for problem solving, brain storming and even hand holding.

I once read a book called We Were Liars, and it was easy to relate to the relationships in that book. I too have cousins with whom I used to spend days getting in trouble with. And, honestly, there are some of us who are entirely capable of killing each other too! As our world comes closer to opening up, I just wanted to write down how these last few months have made me thankful for all the people who I have always taken for granted. My constants. My family.

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Racism: Of Dark And Light

Harper Lee wrote To Kill A Mockingbird in 1960. Since then, the world has changed beyond recognition for almost everyone. In the last 60 years, man has made progress in every conceivable walk of life. Be it science, technology, arts, religion, geography, or anything else you can think of, we have changed the world. What hasn’t changed in these 60 years, is the way the world treats the Tom Robinsons of the world. Racism is still a constant.

The world has always been divided on the basis of colour. How many places do you know of where dark skinned people are superior to their light skinned counterparts?

Coming from South Asia, I can tell you about our obsession with light skin. I can tell you that despite being discriminated against and being called derogatory names ourselves, we still look down upon black people as someone inferior and unworthy. We believe that we’re inferior to our white masters, but there are people who are beneath even us. These people just happen to have darker colored skin.

In school, when we learned about the history of the Indo-Pakistan subcontinent, the first chapter was about two main races. The Aryans and the Dravidians. The Aryans were bigger, stronger, and whiter than the Dravidians who were the worker class, weaker socio-economically and physically, and darker in colour. We grew up reading about this superior race who achieved greater heights than their counterparts. Is it any wonder then, that our sub-conscience still wants to be like these great invaders?

When that part of history ended, we read about the horror unleashed by the British who came to subjugate the darker skinned Indians. Yet, reading about the great British masters only made the already complexed people of the subcontinent want to be like them in every way that they could. We have always looked up to the “goras” (whites), and tried to follow in their footsteps, clinging on to their ways long after they left our land.  

Racism is a part of us since we are born; our prejudices passed on to us through generations. The names my own relatives call black people appall me to this day! But since I never called anyone out on it, I cannot claim to be so innocent myself. People still ridicule dark-skinned girls and call them “kaali” (black) in our culture. Many of them have ruined their skins trying to become just 2 shades lighter. Despite living in a so called “enlightened” society, one of my kids gets preferential treatment even from strangers because he has light skin, light hair, and light eyes. 

We can scream and shout all we want, but the truth remains that we are all racists in one form or another, and no matter how hard we try, we can never understand how the people at the bottom of the racist color spectrum feel. Because we might not have shunned them actively, but we have been guilty of feigning ignorance when others did it. Today, as the world is awakening to the plight of black people, it is imperative to look within ourselves and weed out even traces of racism, of thoughts that make us think that we are better than someone because of our skin.

Being a Muslim, one of the first things we learn as children, is that all people are equal, regardless of their nationality, ethnicity or skin color. After learning this, how can we ever justify the racism inherent in all of us? Stop making fun of something that no man has control over; don’t bring people down because of their looks; stop making it okay for people to be derogatory about other people; don’t be insensitive to other people’s insecurities. 

The change needs to come from within.  

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