#like calling people's cultural dress haram is not it

[halalgirlmeg]

Also I feel like some Muslims heard 'don't mix religion and culture' but like somehow turned that into 'we all should act exactly the same and erase any instance of cultural differences in the name of Islam'

[queenie-blackthorn]

HI HI HI long ask incoming :,,DD

so i have a transmasc muslim character from Malaysia, and i was wondering what the biggest no-no’s are when it comes to writing their transition? and, also, what is it like being a queer muslim in general?

being a queer and trans asian i understand enough (personal experience lol) but i was raised (unfortunately) in a predominantly catholic country that has a LOT of misinformation abt muslims. which sucks. i vaguely know that removing one’s hijab is a very delicate, sensitive thing to do. but what happens when the person no longer identifies as a woman, and wishes to present masculinely? or heck, even present a bit femininely, but still choose to identify as a man? how would a trans muslim go about presenting the way they want to, in the theoretical situation that they’re in a safe enough environment to do so?

hii <333 i want to clarify beforehand that this is a VERY sensitive issue, esp among muslims. cause us as muslims have faced enough misrepresentation as is, and some (i promise not me) may consider it insulting and misrepresentative for a queer muslim to exist (as if they dont already). just, be wary when approaching this subject

now, the issue here is that trans muslims are an EXTREME minority, and i mean extreme. not many people transition and still call themselves muslim. they either renounce islam, or hide their identities for the sake of safety. islam resembles christianity in a way—queerness is a big no-no. HOWEVER, in islam its not haram to BE these things, its haram to act like it (specifically, acting like the opposite gender. dressing like them, who you get married to, etc)

you have to be v delicate, since most ppl would not accept a trans muslim character (i say most bc there are ppl who wouldnt mind, but society as a whole generally would in fact mind)

you almost never see women decide to take off their hijab bc they dont identify as a woman. removing the hijab is taboo enough in muslim culture, but doing that due to not identifying as a woman anymore? BIG no-no

if, theoretically, theyre in an environment safe enough to do so, they still may find ppl unfriending them bc of it, or tryna convince them not to do so for their own safety

HOWEVER, i do have genderqueer friends irl who are still muslim, all of them afab. im gonna use two of them as an example (keep in mind we do live in a transphobic/homophobic society)

the first one (genderfluid but goes w any pronouns) was a hijabi before they stopped identifying as a woman, and they still wear a hijab. however, they do wear chest binders and more masculine style of clothing (e.g. no skirts). they still cover their awrah (the part of a muslim that should be covered. for men its from the navel to below the knees, for women its everywhere except the face and hands), but theyve become a lil more careless w the hijab (like wearing it looser)

the second one (he/they) isnt a hijabi, and they still have long hair. however, he also wears a chest binder, but still likes makeup and things like that. ik less abt this one cause we arent as close as me n the first friend, but thats what ik

and i also mentioned the awrah. keep in mind that men have a hijab too, just a different kind. "hijab" just means covering, n both genders have to cover personal parts. so your character may stop wearing a headscarf, but they still have to wear longer shorts n grow out a beard (and yes, growing out your beard is a must for men in islam. according to most scholars anyway, since the prophet pbuh did it)

if your character was previously a hijabi, you might make him more careless w the hijab (showing more n more hair until he eventually renounces it completely) n start wearing more t-shirts w jeans and things like that (search up "grunge hijab" n youll see what i mean)

it IS better to make a trans non-muslim in a muslim society, considering a lotttttt of muslims might find it offensive if theres a trans muslim, but obv i have no say in your character and in the end its entirely your choice <33 just be aware that its kinda like stepping on broken glass here

[samkkshopping]

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What it was called before?

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[harryforvogue]

i think it's kind of ironic when muslim readers ask for muslim representation, but then complain about how un-islamic the behavior of those characters are.

in the sands of arawiya, you can't have a muslim character who's also an assassin who also has pre marital intimate scenes and relationships, who also doesn't dress modestly or pray. there are foundation of islam that make you a follower of the religion. sticking a hijab on someone doesn't make someone muslim. most people would consider murdering people not a very good representation of islam, anciet arab society or not.

and i've only realized that because of my own stories. i think having good muslim representation isn't just by naming a character muslim. being muslim comes from following rules and staying pure with good deeds and peace. and islam, despite having modernized, DOES have strict rules sometimes, and that's fine. just don't expect to be labeling muslim when they aren't

and there's a distinction between arab culture, pakistani culture, etc, and religion. yes, religion is a HUGE factor in those countries, but you can have non religious people

for example, in the sands of arawiya series, the author refused to call her characters muslim. and readers have such a problem with that because "EVERYTHING ELSE POINTS TO THEM BEING MUSLIM."

no. nothing points to them being muslim. everything points to them being ARAB. from their name, to their cultures, their dress, etc. but what points zafira and nasir to being muslim? they literally murder people. they get abused. they are hunted. that's not muslim behavior.

i'd even argue that calling them muslim would NOT be good for representation.

the author, hafsah faizal, says that they are not muslim. first of all, it should be left there. no discussion afterwards, but IF we were to continue the discussion..... hafsah is muslim. she knows her religion. why would she... knowing all that islam is.... completely butcher the name of the religion with these characters? she clearly knows her religion very very well

the root of it all is that muslim readers (not the regular readers who happen to be muslim, but like the HARAM POLICE) are looking for representation in the wrong area. i'm sure there are lots of great muslim romances out there, but forcing islam WHEN THE CHARACTERS ARE CLEARLY NOT FOLLOWING ANY ISLAMIC CODE is just wrong. they call it a lack of representation. no. the characters aren't meant to be muslim. they weren't written as muslim. arab culture and islam are NOT interchangeable

[fialleril]

Can I say your anakin feels really Jewish and I love it? Purim is a holiday explicitly celebrating how a Jewish woman saves our people from genocide planned by an evil advisor Haram who had a stupid hat. So today we make cookies in the shape of the hat, boo when we hear his name, at my synagogue we cheer when we hear Esther and Mordecai (her uncle) and feast and drink and party. So thats why the fact anakin uses things that would be scary/evil and do mundane things out of spite feels very jewish

I’m delighted by this connection, anon, because quite a lot of Tatooine slave culture is inspired by Jewish stories and traditions.

There are already rough Tatooine equivalents for Passover and Hanukkah (the second is the brain child of the excellent @skywvlked). I feel like a Tatooine Purim would make a lot of sense.

It’s called Kashka-Makkat (which means “Day of Tricks”) and it’s the only holiday specifically centered on Ekkreth the Trickster. People tell endless stories of the many ways Ekkreth has tricked Depur - some are legends, and some are stories of their own ancestors, friends, or even themselves. Many people consider this day an especially auspicious time to pull a trick on their own Depur.

In the evening, and in secret, people gather to make vulappa (Hutt cakes), which are similar to pancakes: flat, round cakes with a “tail” extending from them representing Depur (who everyone knows is a Hutt). They’re eaten with fruit when it’s available, or plain when it’s not.

Someone is designated as the Depur for the evening, and everyone else makes a point of ignoring him, except to serve him the worst of the food (usually a burned vulappu (the singular) and a cup of “Outlander tzai,” which is generally a very weak, nearly flavorless tea). His status is indicated either by a mask made in a parody of a Hutt or else by some marker of wealth, like a piece of purple cloth or an ostentatious hat. After the first Ekkreth story is told, everyone laughs at the “Depur,” who mimes agony in response to the laughter before throwing away his mask to join in the festivities (and finally get to eat some good food!).

Among communities of freed people, this tradition has developed into a kind of costume party, where everyone will dress in a mocking parody of their former Depur, or else of the Depur of Tatooine (Jabba the Hutt, in the PT and OT era).

Once, when he was fifteen, Luke Skywalker dressed as Emperor Palpatine for Kashka-Makkat, which left Uncle Owen mildly terrified. But the party was at the Lars homestead that year, and no one saw him except their close friends. And Beru thought the costume was hilarious, so he got away with it. Only for that year, though.

[ajalanigeria]

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[specialchan]

Imitation of the kuffar is not always haram but has 5 different levels ranging from 100% halal to kufr || Detailed clarification by Sh. Salim al-Buhayri ash-Shafi'i (h) via /r/islam

Imitation of the kuffar is not always haram but has 5 different levels ranging from 100% halal to kufr || Detailed clarification by Sh. Salim al-Buhayri ash-Shafi'i (h)

Very often people of poor knowledge are quick to call everything haram based on the idea that it is imitation of the kuffar when that's not always the case.

Below is a detailed explanation by Sh. Muhammad Salim al-Buhayri, a young Shafii scholar from Alexandria, Egypt:

(Arabic text below)

"This is a problematic understanding that has spread among many Muslims due to some Muslim ideologies that have spread over the past half-decade. We should always make sure we resort to qualified scholarship for our understandings in Islam.

In the Shafii school of Islamic Law, imitating non-Muslims can either be an act of disbelief, be haram, be disliked, be the lesser option (a special category that only Shafii's have which is lighter than makruh but still not as light as simply being permissible), or simply be permissible. Here are examples of each:

(1) Imitating non-Muslims being an act of disbelief (kufr) - For example if a Muslim celebrates Halloween, Easter or Diwali to glorify the Satanic, Christian or Hindu faith or believes that that religion is true or that it is a truly holy celebration.

(2) Imitating non-Muslims being impermissible (haram) - For example if a Muslim does the above actions in number (1), except simply to fit in or because of peer pressure, not out of glorification or belief. In this case the act is sinful but not an act of disbelief, although it can lead to it over time as the person becomes desensitized. In these two categories, 1) and 2), the action done has symbolic religious significance.

(3) Imitating non-Muslims being disliked (makruh) - This is where most examples of imitating non-Muslims mentioned in the Sunnah come in. An example is the act of qaz' where part of the hair is shaved and part of it is left.

(4) Imitating non-Muslims being the less-preferred option (khilaf al-awla) - An example of this is doing suhur early and doing iftar late when fasting.

In these two categories, (3) and (4), a specific textual prohibition has to be present either in the Qur'an or Sunnah requesting Muslims not to do this and describing the act explicitly or implicitly as being imitation of the disbelievers.

(5) Imitating non-Muslims being permissible - An example of this is the wearing of the qalansuwah or skullcap often worn by Muslim men. As is commonly known, Jewish men also wear a skullcap. Cases where imitating non-Muslims is more a matter of culture, fashion, social and personal habits etc also come in category (5). So celebrating a birthday, wedding anniversary, wearing 'Western' clothing (as long as you are observing Islamic dress codes), imitating celebrity hairstyles, dyeing your hair blue etc are all examples of permissible imitation.

In these cases the issue is more a problem of 'tarbiyah' i.e. moral upbringing rather than issue of fiqh. We should be careful to choose our role models carefully instead of immoral people like celebrities etc.

These are the categories and examples usually mentioned in classical sources by Shafii scholars."

إذ ليس كلُّ تشبهٍ بالكفار محرمًا ، بل التشبه بالكفار قد يكون كفرًا ، وقد يكون محرمًا ، وقد يكون مكروهًا كراهة تنزيه ، وقد يكون خلاف الأولى ، وقد يكون مباحًا . • ونستطيع أن نمثل على ذلك من فروع السادة الشافعية .

(1) فالتشبه بالكفار قد يكون كفرًا ، وذلك كما مثل الأصحاب بما لو شدَّ امرؤٌ الزنار على وسطه أو وضع قلنسوة المجوس على رأسه ، فهذا يكفر إن فعله تعظيمًا لدينهم واعتقادًا لحقيقته [«الروضة» (10/69) ، «حاشية الشرواني على التحفة» (9/92) ، «فتاوى ابن حجر» (4/239)] .

(2) وقد يكون التشبه بالكفار محرمًا ، ومثل عليه أصحابنا بما إذا فعل شيئًا من الأشياء السابق ذكرها دون أن يقصد تعظيم دينهم ، فهذا يحرم عليه ولا يكفر ، وكذا مثلوا بموافقة النصاري في أعيادهم والتشبه بهم ، وكذا موافقة المجوس في الصلاة في الأوقات المكروهة (تحريمًا) .

(3) وقد يكون التشبه بالكفار مكروهًا ، وهذا أكثر الذي تجري عليه أكثر فروع التشبه ، ويمثل عليه من فروع الأصحاب بكراهة أصحابنا هيئة الاشتمال في الصلاة ؛ مخالفة لليهود ، وكراهة الاختصار للمصلي ؛ مخالفة لليهود والنصاري .

(4) وقد يكون التشبه بالكفار خلاف الأولى ، ويمثل على ذلك باستحباب أصحابنا تأخير السحور وتعجيل الفطر ؛ لما في ذلك من مخالفة لليهود والنصاري كما قاله الهيتمي ، وكما أشار إليه رسول الله صلى الله عليه وسلم في الأمر بذلك ، فترك ذلك خلاف الأولى .

(5) وقد يكون التشبه بالكفار مباحًا ، ويمثل علىه بنص أصحابنا على إباحة لبس الطيلسان ، رغم كونه من ثياب اليهود والنصارى ، قال البجيرمي – رحمه الله - : «الطيالسة الآن ليست من شعارهم ، بل ارتفع في زماننا ، وصار داخلًا في عموم المباح ، وقد ذكره ابن عبد السلام في البدع المباحة»

Credits to u/AlKhalwati

Submitted September 23, 2020 at 12:18AM by Memer_Supreme via reddit https://ift.tt/33Sgilt

[keramalusundeep]

THE GOD’S LEGIONS

What you are about to read does not have the blessings of God. He has made it clear that I am on my own on this one. So be it. He thinks I am crossing the line.

This time, I want to be the judge of it. Not him.

April 3, 2015.

I am standing with my wife in a large playground. There are a thousand others. The Good Friday’s service is in session. Veneration will soon follow. Hymns are being sung. Wife is mouthing the lyrics. I just stand solemn. By birth – she is an ardent Catholic, and I am a liberal Hindu.

The tempo picks up in the air. So many people at once. All dressed up. Prim and proper.

The weather is wealthy. Perfect for the open-air setting. My arms are ambushed by a dense army of goosebumps.

There is promise in the atmosphere.

Veneration commences.

In the distant background, as we are entranced in the gospels, I hear the maghrib (after sunset prayer) from a mosque that is five commercial buildings shy from the playground we are in.

Few notice. Rest ignore.

I wonder – it is just one day, can’t the Muslims leave it alone today! Dedicate the day to Christ?

The breeze romances the trees.

In a couple of seconds, from the far end of the street, bells from a Murugan temple start composing their rhythmic charm. It is Panguni Uthiram. A day on which Sri Deivanai married Lord Murugan.

Man, this is not cool.

I apologise to Jesus on behalf of the mosque and the temple.

He sacrifices his life for the people, and he can’t get a moment to himself?

Is the mosque doing this on purpose? There is no way for them to not have known that today is Good Friday.

What about the temple? Why are they playing foul?

I shut up and listen. It starts to grow on me. The collaboration. Hymns here. Allah-ho Akbarthere. Murgunakku Haro Hara in that corner.

–

The first thing I do is hate the mosque and the temple. If you ask me, Jesus deserves the full day to himself.

I see this kid running away from his mother’s lap. He stumbles on a chair and falls on his face. His mother runs to his rescue. The kid is not crying. The mother pats his knees and wipes his face. His mother tells him that he is okay. The kid acknowledges. He is not a fussy kid.

That is all the kid needed. He needed to be told that he is okay.

I think that is what they are doing. The mosque and the temple. Telling Jesus that they are with him. An act of compassion. Standing by him. Holding his hands.

I can only think of two options.

1) Neither the mosque nor the temple has any regard for its brother from another mother, despite sharing the same confederacy.

2) They feel for Jesus. That is their way of showing. Besides, how else will they? These guys are socially awkward and they never show up in person anyway. They might as well use their proprietary branch offices to send a message to the man who was crossed today 1,980+ years ago.

By all means, I will go with the second option. Sounds legitimate. Appropriate. Too candid to plead coincidence.

–

Don’t you see that?

They are all one. How do you know that all three of them are not playing scrabble high over our heads right now? I am sure if you look up you won’t see them. Invisibility is their speciality.

None of them hate each other. They are all celebrities in their own leagues. Think about it. If any one God was greater than the other, do you think he would allow the other newer or older God/s to evolve/survive? To be birthed in the first place? The way I see it, everything is God. Everything under the Sun is born and dead out of its own situation and discretion. It is not right to meddle with this sacred order.

Despite their prophecy being solid, how come the Jews denied the claims of Jesus? How come who they refused to accept went to on change the face of the calendar for mankind? If Jesus is the ultimate son of God, how was prophet Mohammed allowed to jump into the picture?

Religion is purely an art form. Each with its own structure, style, subject, and configuration. Each religion comes with its own painting. All subject to interpretation. Every picture is engineered with a special stroke, colour, depth, ambience, motive, and imagination.

Regardless of their origin, form, or appeal, they share one common attribution. The quality of being unique.

Art is to be cherished. It is not to be fought for, kill for, or be killed for.

–

“I love to eat ISIS. They are full of protein. They are my favourite meal morning, afternoon, and night.” – Leishmaniasis

They say that there are 100,000 ISIS people. Now, I don’t know if I should be sad or happy. I think I am happy. But again, I can’t tell for sure. That’s a lot of people.

I mean, I can never understand what in the world gives you guys this burning desire to wear your G.I.Joe-gone-rogue halloween costumes and threaten people toward the blunt decoction of your religious rigidity.

Anybody surrenders to a gun, man. You give me a gun. I will make you pee. It is not the question of who holds the trigger. The concern is what the trigger is going for. When it is for your uptight state of affairs, I feel that I should strangle your balls. Eyes, I mean. You don’t need them, since you don’t see the world you ought to be seeing it like.

–

All the people, who are not captured by you and videotaped by your ‘Jihadi John’ make fun of you. I am sure you know that. They call you heartless. No wonder it doesn’t get to you. I even made a joke about you guys once.

Q. You know why ISIS takes heads? A. Because they don’t have one.

Some kids pick up your flag on the streets and what do they become? The Boko Haram. Brilliant.

There are several other insurgency groups. But I am going to pick on you guys, since you guys seem to have excellent PR, world over. Even Kim Kardashian is your twitter follower. Rad.

Listen, all I have to tell you is this. The ISIS, The Boko Haram, The Hindus who led the burn attacks on churches in Delhi, The infants of the future crusades . . . why the hell can’t we all be together? Come on, come shake my hand. I am a good guy. Come to my house, eat my mother’s avakai pongal. You will sell all your guns to me for free after eating it. I could come to your place (so long as you don’t kill me or put anything in my bum or mouth) and let me eat your fatteh. Let’s exchange cultures. Let’s exchange goodwill. Let’s give each other life. We have facebook. We could be on each others’ lists? You can even subscribe to my blog (request you to not hack it though). I write about some interesting things. I have a feeling that you will like some of them.

–

Word is that the USA is killing you guys using a sophisticated biological weapon, since you guys stirred a shitstorm in a pisscup. It might even be my own conspiracy. I even have vague theories to believe that you are the CIA’s bastard children. The Snows sent to guard the wall.

In the end all that matters is what you decide to do and do. If they or someone else asks you to eat shit, don’t.

If anyone out there is still waiting for the “real” son of God, well, you will only be spared the moon to dance with. It is just you and me now. Let’s be good to each other. Our natural time will come anyway. Until then, if you are still interested in fighting something, take care of that mortality of yours. But so long as we are alive, can we forget about your religion, my religion, and their religion? Pray in your will. On your bill. Don’t pry on another’s. Don’t tab another for your shit.

Gods don’t kill each other, man. That is why we have so many. We have billions of Gods. You are a God to me. So am I to this cause.

We upgrade weapons. Technology. Lifestyle. Why not our realisation?

The oldest and the foremost religion in the world is evolution. The rest is a combustion of mankind’s masturbation.

Let’s evolve for good. Let’s dissolve for the better. Let’s revolve around each other for the best.

How about that for a change?

Photo by Lucas Pezeta

[aftermyshahada-blog]

Tolerance and Respect is Key for ALL Muslims

I do not like to associate with conservative, judgmental, hateful, and pompous people, Muslims included. Instead, I want to always be kind, compassionate, understanding, and open-minded. I apologize if this blog post comes across more like a rant, but recent events have cause me to feel quite irritated and I have a strong message to share with you all.

Sister Sarah: Leading by Force

I am a new Muslim (click here for my story), but I will admit very honestly that I am not perfect; no one is perfect except Allah. A Muslim sister of mine (for sake of anonymity, I will call her Sarah) who reverted about 4 years ago and who is about 4 years younger than me, adamantly began to spew the requirements and rules of Muslims according to Islam. Convinced that there is only one "right" way to be Muslim, she began lecturing about wearing a full hijab (abaya and headscarf) at all times. (In a previous blog post, I explained when I cover, how I cover, and my view on covering-click here).

In addition, I am Muslim and I live with my non-Muslim boyfriend, and Sarah sternly told me that I was living in sin and that Allah is angry with me. She told me that I must learn to pronounce Arabic prayers correctly, otherwise they do not mean anything. When I joked about getting together for cupcakes on my half birthday, I was sternly told that celebrating birthdays or half birthdays is completely haram (sinful/forbidden). If I had to list all of the lectures Sarah gave me, the list would extend from here to the moon and back.

She told me that hadiths and Quran give very strict and clear guidelines about living and Sharia law needs to be followed. Sarah told me that Muslims must guide one another and by not lecturing me and telling me what is right or wrong, then she is not doing her job as a Muslim. Because she became Muslim a few years before me and is dedicated to studying Islam, she feels like she has the right to tell other people what to do and how to do it.

Oh. My. Goodness. This irritates me so much!

Follow the Prophet's Example

Some people gain a little bit of knowledge and they want to run around with a baseball bat and beat people over the head with religion. That is not ok! Prophet Muhammed's whole life was about leading by encouragement, not pressure or judgment. Invite others to sit and talk with you; embrace your brothers and sisters with love. Don't immediately start thinking about what you can criticize about them. The prophet never once used "vigilantes" to impose religious requirements.

There is a clear contrast between the attitudes of some well-intentioned Muslims who want to correct the wrong immediately and by any means, and the approach of the Prophet which was of kindness, gentleness, persuasion, and wisdom. I have met many kind Muslims who guide others gently and who are so sweet and encouraging. These are the types of people I love to have in my life. I am so appreciative of their loving approach.

The Way I See Things

Islam is peaceable, positive, sensible, elegant, civilized, constructive, hopeful, problem-solving, balanced, just, fair, compassionate, truthful, fun, global, divine, authentic, original, and free!

As a Muslim revert, I like to look at the allegorical interpretations of the Quran; the hidden, inner meaning. As a liberal Muslim, I do not reject hadiths completely, but I consider them carefully. In addition, I look at the Quran very critically and I promote complete gender equality in all aspects, including ritual prayer and observance. I am more open to modern culture in relation to dress, customs, and common practices. I promote the individual use of ijtihad (interpretation) and fitrah (natural sense of right and wrong).

I believe that Islam promotes the notion of absolute equality of all humanity. And as a feminist, I believe that Islam promotes feminism. Islam teaches us that women deserve full equality under the law in personal and public arenas. In addition, I support LGBTQIA+ rights.

Sometimes You Have to Create Boundaries

Supportive Muslim brothers and sisters will not make me feel bad about myself or tell me that they are right and I am wrong. They will not cause me to feel bad about myself and insist that there is only one right way. They will not judge me or embarrass me or rise up against me. True Muslims brothers and sisters will stand beside me, support me, and look out for my well-being in a compassionate way. They will not cause anxiety, hate, judgment, or embarrassment.

There are toxic people out there, even people who are Muslims. Though most people mean well, it might become necessary to create boundaries. Those boundaries will vary depending on the person and situation. But all boundaries are fair, just, reasonable, meaningful, necessary, and must be clearly defined. If boundaries meet these criteria, then they will protect, enhance, and enrich your life, reduce anxiety, and optimize the experience of a tranquil, peaceful, and truly meaningful life for you. I had to create some boundaries with Sarah. It wasn't easy, but it was necessary.

Yes, you want to love and accept everyone, especially when you know that they mean well, but you have to be very careful. You need to set up boundaries out of concern for yourself. It is necessary to protect ourselves from people or things that will harm us or diminish the experience of life for us.

You and Allah

It is important to not surround yourself with judgmental people who make you feel bad. It is important to love yourself and know that your religion is between you and God. Know that God loves you. God will guide you. Know that you will be ok. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise. All you need is Allah. The support of the Ummah (Muslim community) can be wonderful and beneficial. In fact, I love having more experienced sisters to guide me. But again, you must always look out for yourself. The most important relationship you will ever have is between you and Allah. Do not let anything get in the way of that or diminish that. Allah is all you need. Trust Him.

THANK YOU

This is my 23rd blog post that I have written here on Tumblr; I do my best to post something each and every day. It has been about 3 weeks and I have about 300 followers! Thank you so much for reading, liking, and reblogging my content. I appreciate it. 

[anitaathi1979]

God

Bought up in a Punjabi household speaking English, Punjabi and Hindi with a relatively strict Hindu Punjabi mother and a very liberal mixed Hindu and Sikh father, God was a fairly simple idea. We watched the Ramayan and Mahabharat to keep rooted, educated and informed. We attended Hindi and Punjabi classes to stay cultured. I took a GSCE and then an A Level in Hindi, scoring the highest grades possible (A* and A). That’s just me showing off now. Sorry.

We celebrated Diwali at home with a quick prayer, may be a visit to the temple and some fireworks. Other festivals were celebrated with less attention to prayers and the occasional visit to the temple. He, God, was never imposed on us. Religion was never a thing in our home. We just called ourselves Hindu Punjabis and got on with life as any other person did. 

Gurdwaras were a place where we bow our heads before we witnessed a wedding. The Temple was a place where we dressed up in our best saris for a dance.  

As I grew up though, I struggled with some of the stories I had read in all holy books. Gods who had epic wars and blue skin. Gods who divided up his people with Protestants and Catholicism and watched people die for their particular affiliation. A Christ who parted an ocean with a mother who hadn’t apparently consummated her own marriage. A God who gave a message interpreted by some of his followers as Him having asked his people to kill non-believers in a jihad-type attack. A God who has the same characters in three of His books but none of whom can live together in harmony, fighting over Israel and Palestine in a war of who has the most money. A God whose followers drive gold-plated cars and live in palaces Walt Disney himself could only imagine, who buy horses and football clubs which are haram but portray themselves as holier than thou. A God who allowed millions of his people to die in concentration camps at the hands of a mentally challenged murderer. A God who created division and separation, poverty, disease and death. 

I believe in my heart that there’s something greater than this world. The idea of there being nothing after death and there being no other life outside of the earth, suffocates me and leaves me feeling claustrophobic. I don’t believe in gates of any heaven. I don’t believe in a huge, clad-in-white, bearded man or 72 virgins or a circle of life and nirvana, reincarnation or whether burial is better than cremation. I don’t believe in the caste system or that Sunnis are better than Shias. I don’t think you have to pray or starve yourself to prove you’re a good person. I hate division, segregation, classism and one-upmanship. 

I believe in the soul. I believe in love. I believe that there’s a greater thing out there. I don’t believe in judgement day or that if I eat this piece of chicken, I’ll become KFC in my next life. I don’t believe what religions dictate and I hate terms like ‘commandments’ and needing to follow a set of rules. Love people, don’t hurt anyone and if you have to, make sure it’s got a decent excuse behind it. Be comfortable in your own head. Love nature, the sunshine, the rain and snow, animals and people and show you care. Be kind. Then be liberated. That’s God for me I think. 

[automatismoateo]

As a black man who has followed both islam and christianity, I am of the opinion that Abrahamic religion has failed black people via /r/atheism

Submitted March 14, 2020 at 12:05PM by afrohumanist01 (Via reddit https://ift.tt/2IOoSI2) As a black man who has followed both islam and christianity, I am of the opinion that Abrahamic religion has failed black people

First of all, I want to state that I am a Nigerian who has lived in the West for a long time. I believe that my opinion is unpopular because most black opinions that are put forward on reddit are from African-Americans and Black-British people. I am 100% African and my experience is different from these other sets of black people.

As a Nigerian whose culture is older than Jewish culture in human history, I find it difficult to believe that the first man and woman in the scriptures are Hebrew people called Adam and Eve. It is also funny how God/Allah/Yahweh ignored the early humans in Africa to focus on the middle east. The prophets in the bible are Jewish/Isrealites/Hebrews. The main prophet in Islam is Arab. Where are the black African prophets? Furthermore, the bible states that Abraham is the father of all nations. I can tell you for a fact that I am not a descendant of a middle eastern person.

The issue in the above point 1 leads to identity confusion in black people. In Nigeria, there are people from the Igbo tribe who claim to be Jews based on "biblical history". This has been proven false by scholars and Rabbis- there are no Nigerians of Jewish descent. There are also African Americans and Black British people who claim to be "black Hebrew kings" but have been soundly rejected by Jews. This is what happens when one follows a religion that falsely claims that they are descendant from another people.

There is also the issue of erosion of African culture. Islam especially creates this problem. Anyone familiar with African culture or Black Panther knows that we Africans take pride in our traditional clothes. I am from the Southern Part of Nigeria that is mostly christian. The northern part of Nigeria has sharia law. Now, many Southern tribes have their women dress in clothing that are called "wrappers". The women tie a large piece of patterned cloth on their bodies (or it can be with a blouse). This manner of dressing usually exposes the shoulders and lower legs. Now, a Southern Nigerian woman cannot wear her traditional attire in Northern Nigeria because of strict dress codes in Sharia law. This means that Islam forces Arabic standards on Nigerian and Nigerians cannot even wear their own traditional attires in their own country.

Continuing the issue of erosion of African culture, there is the erosion of African names. In African culture, names must have a meaning behind them. Names are also use to denote the tribe one is from. I can tell if someone is from Yoruba or Igbo tribe just from their name. Now, Islam, Judaism and Christianity have pushed Nigerians to be bearing Jewish names because they are somehow "more holy". For example, the current president of Nigeria is called "Muhammadu Buhari". The previous president was "Goodluck Jonathan". We even had a military president called "Abdulsalam Abubakar" who sounds like some Arab dictator and not a Nigerian.

Then, there is the issue of the brainwashing of African-Americans. African-Americans are the most religious race in America. This is also the direct reason (education too, to a lesser degree) why they are also the least supportive of gay rights. Imagine that. African-Americans who have suffered the worst forms of racial discrimination, are also more likely to be supportive in the discrimination of gay people. From my experience, both in the UK and USA, the few among my friends and relatives who are homophobic, are homophobic because of religious reasons. Back in Nigeria, where islam and christianity reign supreme, you get 14 years in prison for being gay or having gay sex- this was largely supported by christian and muslim senators when the bill was voted in. NOTE; FOR THIS POINT, I AM GENERALISING: NOT ALL AFRICAN AMERICANS OR NIGERIANS ARE HOMOPHOBIC!

The worst part of the brainwashing of black people is the issue of slavery. Since I am writing to Americans, I feel that I do not have to explain the involvement of christians and churches in the African transatlantic slavery. However, I will focus on the issue of Islamic slavery in Africa. Muslims were the first to take slaves out of Africa and this was centuries before the first European landed in Africa (as early as the 12th century). Slaves were taken from the Kanem-Borno empire, which is now modern day Nigeria. Slaves were taken from central and west Africa to the Middle East- which is a dangerous journey and many slaves died en-route. The problem here is that these religions supported and even gave the moral backing for the enslavement of black people- yet, Africans and African Americans largely follow these religions. Fun fact, history is hardly taught in Nigerian schools. Most Nigerians cannot write an essay on slavery.

White Jesus!! We all know that Jesus would have likely been a dark skinned middle easterner. However, in Nigeria all the churches I have been to have a white Jesus on paintings and sculptures of the crucifix. The white Jesus in all of these Nigerian churches strangely look like some Italian guy called Cesare Borgias.

In Islam, there is "Qibla", which is about facing Mecca to pray. There is also "Hajj", where one goes to pilgrimage in Mecca. One is also encouraged in islamic schools to recite the Quran in Arabic. Why should I face Arab lands? Does God hate Africa? Why cant I face my own country? Why must I learn a foreign language (Arabic) when there are 250 Nigerian languages and English (English is the official language of Nigeria) to learn? Why should I spend money on tourism to Mecca when Nigeria's tourism industry is decaying?

Other instances of Abrahamic religion causing cultural problems-

Southern Nigerians have been eating "edible worms" as a delicacy for centuries but worms in Islam are Haram in Islam and non-Kosher in Judaism (forbidden).

Alcohol (Palm wine and bitters) is part of most Nigerian cultures but it is forbidden in islam

Catholics are baptized in the name of saints. There are hardly any saints with Nigerian names

Nigerian culture has moved away from marrying underage teenagers. This was common in villages but now, the secular law has made it mandatory minimum age of 18. Sharia law in Northern Nigeria creates a loophole for Northern muslims to marry underage girls. A Nigerian senator called Yerima, married a 13 year old girl. In Islamic jurispudence, there is no minimum age in marriage, the only ruling is that the girl must have reached puberty.

*********************************************************

In summary, why should I, as a black African follow any Abrahamic religion?

*****************************************************

Some sources and links for further reading-

A Nigerian Senator marries a 13 year old

https://www.aljazeera.com/news/africa/2010/05/2010518858453672.html

Igbo Jews wiki

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Igbo_Jews

Naming culture in Nigeria

https://www.pulse.ng/lifestyle/food-travel/understanding-peculiar-naming-culture-in-various-nigerian-tribes/qfjee4f

Pew research on blacks being the most religious

https://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2018/04/23/black-americans-are-more-likely-than-overall-public-to-be-christian-protestant/

Homophobia in the black community

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homophobia_in_ethnic_minority_communities#Black_community

[katieshugars]

Christianity in Nigeria

The concept of religion within Africa is a troublesome topic. Recent articles have revealed the dangers that Christians face in this geographical region, particularly within Nigeria, the most populous country in Africa.

The total population of Nigeria is more than 200 million, and about 70 million of the population identify as Christian. This portion of Nigerians are classified under the overarching term, “Christian,” while many connect to different denominations, such as Roman Catholic, Anglican, and Baptist.

The northern part of Nigeria is heavily populated with those who identify as Muslim, while the southern part of Nigeria is heavily populated with those who identify as Christian. Both of these religious groups have their own culture, values, beliefs, and behaviors. The two clash.

Among the division in Nigeria, there is an Islamic movement, a group culture, that seeks to impose Shari’ah Law on everyone in the country, called the Boko Haram. This in-group has taken responsibility for the persecuting of some out-group Christians in Nigeria.

Persecution level: Very High

Headlines and news articles are filled with examples of religious persecution among Christians in Nigeria. In April 2019, some of the Boko Haram extremists employed their culturally accepted social behavior and invaded a Christian community, an area that is considered an in-group from the Christianity perspective. The Boko Haram set fire to homes in the predominantly Christian community, which killed twenty-three people out of thirty houses. This community had to seek refuge in other parts of the Adamawa State in Nigeria.

A psychological paradigm may define these persecuting acts by extremists groups as social facilitation. This is a universal concept in cross-cultural psychology that says behaviors are enhanced when other people are around. This group of extremists may enhance these persecuting behaviors, and therefore, promote social facilitation. Many Christians are persecuted and practice reverse social facilitation, meaning many Christians deny their faith in relation to others and dress like Muslims to avoid attacks.

Some Christians may view all Muslims through the out-group homogeneity bias. If Christians in Nigeria fear anyone who claims to be Muslim, then they may believe that the members of extremist groups captures the Islamic religion as a whole.

Many religions, like Islam and Christianity, can be viewed as an interdependent culture. These religious cultures rely heavily on the connection with other people within their in-group community.

These environmental and cross-cultural clashes between the Islamic extremist groups and Christians, are ambient stressors, stress of future Christian persecution. The two cultural groups are countercultures with clashing values, beliefs, and behaviors.

Christianity in Nigeria is a current concern, as the two majority faith cultures of that geographical region are experiencing a clash. This encounter between Christians and Muslims is an ongoing cross-cultural dilemma. Christians, like many other countries, are facing persecution often.

https://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/topics/n/nigeria/

https://rlp.hds.harvard.edu/faq/christianity-nigeria

https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/geos/print_ni.html

https://www.opendoorsusa.org/christian-persecution/world-watch-list/nigeria/

https://www.google.com/search?q=nigeria+on+map&tbm=isch&ved=2ahUKEwiVxMGzx4joAhUEjOAKHU1WB6QQ2-cCegQIABAA&oq=nigeria+on+map&gs_l=img.3..0l3j0i5i30l7.53018.53631..53840...0.0..0.82.430.7......0....1..gws-wiz-img.......35i39j0i67j0i8i30.4TC8zx1buVs&ei=hK1jXpXyM4SYggfNrJ2gCg&bih=724&biw=1224#imgrc=z8xUng_x1yFCgM

https://www.google.com/search?q=christians+in+nigeria&sxsrf=ALeKk028iJb_91EVVlc3_YhMcWEZNLJwLQ:1583590886891&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiDjqHix4joAhWTj3IEHcPHDWsQ_AUoAnoECAwQBA&biw=1224&bih=724#imgrc=IKd4bMtMlpcEEM

https://www.google.com/search?q=muslim+v+christian+in+nigeria&sxsrf=ALeKk03DGCPYj15KaU5jiGm1tQvVNVVG8g:1583590933462&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwihyLv4x4joAhWoknIEHeR_BvEQ_AUoA3oECAwQBQ&biw=1224&bih=724#imgrc=RZmZXMvFH40JjM

https://www.google.com/search?q=boko+haram+in+nigeria&sxsrf=ALeKk00kOJGcEhH9mDuTAUNV7ucQoARX-w:1583591001854&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjC8ImZyIjoAhUQlnIEHRQCB70Q_AUoAnoECBkQBA&biw=1224&bih=724#imgrc=Vddo4CUd60TybM

https://www.google.com/search?q=outgroup+homogeneity+effect&tbm=isch&ved=2ahUKEwjQ8pLuyIjoAhXLGN8KHTsJD7AQ2-cCegQIABAA&oq=outgroup+&gs_l=img.1.8.0l10.46722.49304..52139...4.0..0.167.1176.9j4......0....1..gws-wiz-img.....10..35i39j0i67j0i131j0i131i67j35i362i39.d0s663nXBI8&ei=DK9jXtC8D8ux_Aa7kryACw&bih=724&biw=1224#imgrc=iNxDGql_d8UUfM

https://www.google.com/search?q=cultureclash+gif&tbm=isch&ved=2ahUKEwjy6-7DyYjoAhVvu1kKHYpWD4gQ2-cCegQIABAA&oq=cultureclash+gif&gs_l=img.3..0i7i30.17154.17985..18158...0.0..0.118.470.6j1......0....1..gws-wiz-img.......0i7i5i30j0i8i7i30.HtnbEebHJ6I&ei=wK9jXvKLAe_25gKKrb3ACA&bih=724&biw=1224#imgrc=zC63otlkwq5hRM

https://www.google.com/search?q=christian+persecution+in+nigeria&sxsrf=ALeKk00tN9Ml9iw6lf3QHLHJstEWWLCqxg:1583591422987&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwj87_HhyYjoAhXAhHIEHZCBB_cQ_AUoAnoECAwQBA&biw=1224&bih=724#imgrc=A21MD6xUPW7fWM

[lostbandar]

History of Delhi is a story of Muslim Sultans with whom came the culture which resides in the houses even today. This story is of the Sufi saint whose shrines still light up our lives. Persian traders who with them brought the technique of Zari also left their language in the Bazaars of Delhi. And the British officers who taught us their etiquettes 1739 Nadir Shah looted and devastated Delhi, for months the streets were filled with tears and blood, but one thing that even he was not able to take was the taste of Delhi.

  My parents were born in undivided India and were the lucky ones who survived the massacre at partition. My grandmother used to tell me about how each evening people would gather around a large Tandoor to make Rotis taking turns. Very few original Delhiites remain, and this city became the city of refugees. I’ve been born and brought up in Delhi, like many I was oblivious to the various layers this city has, and all the monuments were ruins which looked all the same. As my love for the town grew I became a travel professional taking people along to unravel each layer.

Geographical Relevance 

Today the population of Delhi is around 20 million and as the name suggests is the heart of India. If you look at our map, we’ve a 5000 km of coastline. Water protected us, so all the invasions happened from north-west of our country. Coming from Kabul – Lahore – Punjab you naturally entered the Gangetic planes. This made Delhi geographically relevant. Fertile, safe and a perfect stronghold for thousands of soldiers. On these very passages of conquest, the great exchange of religion culture and cuisine took place over a period of 1500 years. In the northern region, we have more varieties of grains and beyond central India, we consume more rice due to the hot and humid climate.

The modern city of Delhi is built over seven layers of various dynasty’s from the 12th century till the 20th. Food of Delhi was the food of Chauhans- Rajputs – Jats – Gurjars, then came the Sultanate period which lasted from 1192 till 1526, Turko Afghan food came to Delhi – bringing Tandoors, Sherbets and Pan. And then with the Mughals who rules us for more than 300 years came the Persian influence, and so came various traders and their eating habits. In other words, the Age of plenty has never ended here as it was the capital for more than 1000 years. That meant that the best of the best from around the world would be available in Delhi.

IBN E Batuta one of the worlds greatest traveller came to India in the 1330s during the Tughlaq dynasty. He noted that due to various attacks on Delhi people started storing rice in walls. When he saw them taking the rice out from walls they had turned dark in colour and tasted better. Along with its various meat preparations and birds like Grey Partridge(titar and bater) were being cooked too.

    STORY OF SHAHJAHANABAD –

Today the true essence of Delhi lies within Old Delhi – Shahjahanabad. The 17th century – Old Delhi is what authentic Delhi is and rest I would say is all around it. Walls of Old Delhi are not walls but curtains – behind which you find the delicately made food with love. The day here did not start until you heard the morning Azaan and the streets around Jama Masjid were Filled with smells of nihari.

Being inaugurated in 1640 this city was built by the same person who commissioned the construction of Taj and at the same time. When the city was being constructed the personal physician of Shahjahan went up to him and told him that each person in this city is going to have an upset stomach as the Yamuna water is not drinkable. When asked for a solution he advised to add spices in food and to balance the effect of spice they should add clarified butter. So for Non-Vegetarians, they added spices and Ghee to all meat dishes, and for Vegetarians they made Chat which is both spicy tangy. And this what makes the street food of Delhi popular all over the country. In the Bazaars of old Delhi which have become a wholesale market, shopping and street food go hand in hand.

As you are looking at jewellery in the narrow lanes of Maliwara near Chandni Chowk the shop owner would order his boys to get Kachori from Jung Bahadur, Bhalle from Natraj and Mattra kulcha from Kinari.  It is this experience which brings you back again and again.

Another Farman(Order) given by Shahjahan was that the women of the fort will not go out to shop, the shops come to them. So along your carpets and spices came a movable feast which continues to be the pride of old Delhi residents. Khomche wale- the concept of a moveable feast is something unique to the lifestyle of a Delhiite. The person comes once a day – Makes things fresh and with such care that people change their plans to be around when its time for him to come.

Daulat Ki Chat

  Paranthey Wali Gully

Well after the Mutiny in 1857 against East India Company which started in Meerut and ended in Delhi was over and we were now under the Queen. A family from madMadhya Pradesh (central India) decided to move to Old Delhi. Continuing the tradition of old delhi he started deep frying his paranthas in Ghee (clarified butter) and have been serving them to the revolutionaries, the first prime minister and to film stars since 1875.

Sweets of Delhi – Once in Delhi two rich merchants Mir Sahab and Lalajee were discussing food. Mir Sahab said “Maas Bina Ghaas Rasoi” if there is no meat in a meal it’s like eating grass  – well the reply he got was that “Khand bina sab rand rasoi” without sweets there can be no food … Some people can’t do without korma and kebabs, and some can’t do without Sweets.

The Holy Cow gives us the most important ingredient – Milk used to make most of the sweets made in Delhi. Till the Portuguese arrived in India there was no concept of Cottage Cheese or a Rasgulla. If milk curdled it was considered as inauspicious. We love dessert so much that one shop is named after it – Hazari Lal Jain Khurchan waley. Khurchan is a dessert which is prepared by reducing milk on slow heat till only a layer is left in the container. Six such layers topped with pistachio makes Khurchan one of the specialities of Delhi

Just like the serpentine lanes of old Delhi, we get dessert over here called the Jalebi, which has Arab origins where it used to be called as Zalebia. Made from Besan and maida it is deep-fried in Ghee and then dipped in a sugar syrup which has saffron in it. It will not be wrong to say that the sugar syrup which drips from jalebi probably united the whole country.

Khansamas(Chefs) from the kitchens of Red Fort

In 1658 when Aurangzeb imprisoned his father and left for Deccan the Red Fort in Delhi came under the control of his loving sister Roshanara Begum. Every evening the rich ladies, nobles and Amirs of the city and from Haram would arrive in the Khas Mahal for a splendid feast. They would be welcomed with Paan, Sherbet and attar sprayed on them. As they got settled and welcomed Roshnara begum by bowing down in respect the feast would start. Some 200 hundred dishes prepared by 200 chefs made from materials procured from around the world would be served.

Few of the people who stayed back started eateries like Karim’s in Old Delhi. One of the popular dishes apart from other delicacies is Mutton Ishtew, an Anglo Indian dish made in the kitchens David Ochterlony the first resident of Delhi. He had 13 wives, dressed like Mughals and conducted lavish parties each evening. His cook made this dish (meat 1 Kg – 400 gm Onion – 1kg Tomato – 1kg Curd – Whole Ginger & Garlic – ghee ). Mutton stew or other meat dishes in Delhi are eaten with Khamere Roti. Khameer means yeast- Yeasting goes back to 2000 BC, ie 4000 years ago in Egypt, and it reached India in the 13th century in India with Central Asian people. various types of  breads are prepared with this process like Dessert Rotis – Bakharkhani – Sheermal – Kulcha

Khari Baoili one of Asia’s biggest spice market was set up in 1551 by Sher Shah Suri near the prominent Lahori Gate of Shahjahanabad. Stores here have been running for around 11 generations and being on the trade route – Ingredients like gum- Silver /gold foil – long pepper etc were available to serve Dilli walas. The first references of dates can be traced to almost 3000 years ago from excavation done in the Old Fort area of Delhi, and with it traces of the use of grains like Wheat, Jawar – barley – Meats –  a Beer called Fukka and a Wine called Sura.

Nizammudin Dargah

  “Kabhi Iss jagah se Guzar ke toh dekho                                                                                     badi raunque hai fakiro ke dere”

Sufism in Delhi A Sufi is considered as a pure soul, and it is believed that if you have your grave built near a Sufi dargah you would be allowed into the heavens with the blessings of The Sufi. It has been an age-old tradition to give free food and help the poor or travellers coming to the city. It is said that at the Dargah of Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya in the times of Sultan Allaudin Khilji, everything that was collected was distributed every third day. Langar which ran 24 hrs ran all through the year was food cooked in large quantities for the purpose of charity. The lanes leading up to the Dargah are filled with places selling Nahari and Kebabs.

  Bengali Food

In 1911 when the British shifted the capital from Calcutta to Delhi few businessmen and traders shifted their base, and later when East Pakistan was converted to Bangladesh in 1960’s a large number of refugees came to Delhi. One such very affluent colonies today was a place allotted to refugees.  Chittaranjan Park is a piece of Bengal where you get Kolkatta style rolls and the best of Bengali sweets among other things.

Jhal Muri

Bengali Sweets

Rolls

  My relation with Delhi has been like a traditional  Indian arranged marriage, this meeting was arranged by my parents, and now I can’t imagine living without the other. I have fallen in love with the Tehzeeb of Delhi. So be our guest and as you remove the curtains before you enter within, you’ll find people, sights, sounds and smells all welcoming you with warm hearts and delicious food.

Old Delhi Havelis and Food Walk

  Age of Plenty- History of Delhi through its Food History of Delhi is a story of Muslim Sultans with whom came the culture which resides in the houses even today.

[how2to18]

IT IS UNCANNY when a book arrives at a particularly riveting moment, one in which the book’s reflection of current events is dizzying. How would an unsuspecting reader know that Bernice L. McFadden’s latest novel — a tale of modern-day slavery in another hemisphere, depicting the practice of trokosi — would resonate so deeply on our own shores?

I read this tale of separation, betrayal, and internecine secrets during a time when children were torn from the bosoms of their families at the US-Mexican border, emphasizing both actions for what they are: barbaric. McFadden’s novel is the story of a nine-year-old child who was dropped off at a temple prison and kept in a cage of tradition and inhumanity — meanwhile, here in the United States, children from South and Central America were sleeping on the floor in enclosures made of mesh wire. As of mid-September 2018, some 12,800 immigrant children were still being held in detention. It is a stunning, gut-punching moment to realize that trokosi, a cultural and governmental injustice and crime in West Africa, is mirrored right here in the United States. It is an action so loathsome, so unimaginable that the story tears at the reader’s heart as if clawed by wild animals. This is obviously the author’s intention. Readers familiar with McFadden’s body of work — 15 books altogether under her given and pen names — will not be surprised by the power of the tale.

Look at little Abeo, kindergarten age, twirling and starring in her family’s comfortable production of a life. Now, see that same innocent child, a girl child covering herself in some loose rough garment, with nothing to eat but a thick tasteless porridge, as she serves as the sexual slave of men who call themselves priests. (Yes, there are quite a few parallels to Christian and Catholic churches.) Get to know Abeo, merely a girl bearing rape and childbirth as soon as she bleeds. Her story leaves you feeling cracked open.

Trokosi, as defined by the author, “comes from the Ewe words tro, meaning deity or fetish, and kosi, meaning female slave.” It is this horrific practice that McFadden’s work illuminates. It is the belief in and practice of abandoning girls to serve life sentences as slaves to temple priests in order to protect their families from the gods’ anger — the sacrifice of an innocent for the sake of family honor, as punishment, and all beliefs that aim to make slavery palpable. In McFadden’s capable hands, these reasons ring as hollow as they are.

From the opening, McFadden reveals how sudden elements of violence, hatred, and death can insert themselves during a routine walk to work. In the familiar rhythm of an ancient folk tale, set mainly in the imaginary West African nation of Ukemby, the author asks what happens when the “village” not only fails a child but also sacrifices her.

The novel shifts back and forth in time covering more than three decades, from 1978 to 2009, covering numerous unforgettable characters on two continents. At its core is Abeo’s story. Abeo is the first and treasured daughter in the prosperous, safe household of Wasik Kata, an accountant with a cushy job with the Ukemby government treasury, and his wife, Ismae Kata, a beautiful, graceful former model. Cherished, inquisitive, a bit spoiled, and part of what Ismae assures her husband makes “the life I’ve always dreamed of having,” Abeo is the cynosure of the privileged home — teased, coddled, encouraged to dream, and danced about in fancy dresses. All of this begins to fall apart, however, as Wasik’s fortunes wane. Soon, the family’s spiritual and corporal life follows suit. A political turn leads to suspicion and the loss of employment for Wasik. Folks recall his grandfather’s accident that killed two female goat kids, a parent’s death, unacknowledged family secrets, a child’s sickness, bruised male ego, and lost potency. All common vagaries of life merge, spelling more than just bad luck for the cozy Kata domicile. A curse befalls their house.

It is this perceived pox on their peaceful household and good name that leads to sudden, unthinkable action. Wasik, who has earlier teased his daughter Abeo for being a “sleepyhead,” snatches her from bed one night and takes her on a horrifying, frenzied, heartbreaking ride through the dark countryside and urban streets in search of an emergency shrine. Just like that, without explanation, goodbyes, or even a backward glance from her father, seven-year-old Abeo is abandoned at night in a makeshift village of strangers. Still mesmerized by women’s jewelry and video tapes of The Wizard of Oz, this fragile spunky girl has just been ripped from the only people she knows and dropped like a slaughtered lamb into an encampment without rudimentary electricity and running water. Thus begins her first night of slavery, pummeled with unfamiliar harsh words, commands, and abuse from older women who drip contempt and hatred like venom on her smooth brown skin.

The next morning, Abeo awakes to find herself still in the nightmarish world of trokosi. Her doting father truly did offer her up to the “devil” and toss her into hell wearing only a nightshirt and sandals. The action and its repercussions are as unimaginable for the reader as for little Abeo. For this child — terrified, traumatized, and confused — it only gets worse.

The novel has a timeless quality; McFadden is a master of taking you to another time and place. In doing so, she raises questions surrounding the nature of memory, what we allow to thrive, and what we determine to execute. Praise Song for the Butterflies is a cautionary tale with a cruel twist. There are Wasik and those who collude with him to keep Abeo in captivity, and there are also the innocent victims. But what of little Abeo? What is she to take away from her fate? Trust no one? Believe that there is no fate worse than being born a woman?

The novel also brings to mind the 276 female students kidnapped more than four years ago by Boko Haram in northern Nigeria; girls and young women snatched from the seeming safety of school, some of whom are still in captivity, some palmed out to men like chattel to be wives and servants, some who have most likely perished.

McFadden brings the sweeping drama of her earlier works — The Book of Harlan, Glorious, Gathering of Waters — into this small book, and reminds me of the gentle fierceness of Edwidge Danticat’s writing. Despite the novel’s spare style and story line, there is fleeting joy and relief — kernels of respite as simple as a stolen mango furtively shared by Abeo and the girls, some of whom pray each night for death:

They all stared at the mango as if it were a brick of gold. “You stole it?” Juba grinned. “It fell off the truck and rolled to the side of the road. I didn’t steal it, I rescued it!”

There is clearly more to be “rescued” than a precious ripe mango. Questions of physical and mental abandonment loom large in this compact novel, along with issues of ancient and current ritual servitude, responsibility for choices, and forgiveness. McFadden asks why some of us are so easily forgotten and some are impossible to forget.

For me, the sparseness of Praise Song is one of its strengths; for some, it may be a weakness. As with tales this succinctly written, there is always the danger that it is too spare, leaving the reader wanting more detail. This is what happens when, in a quiet moment, each of Abeo’s sisters in slavery shares the story of how she ended up imprisoned in a dusty village with a lifetime sentence of sexual and physical work. The stories are so brief that the entire scene feels like a roundup of the local news — heartbreaking, enthralling news — but a truncated version of the truth. Additionally, in the process, the author sometimes slips into the habit of dumbing down the language, stealing the power of a scene already told in perfect tone. This happens when 11-year-old Abeo is summoned to her first rape by the assistant to the old temple priest: “Two weeks after Abeo completed her third menstrual cycle, Darkwa darkened the doorway of their hut and pointed at Abeo. ‘You, come with me.’”

Yet there is also redemption for some of the tortured and imprisoned. McFadden is too accomplished a storyteller to leave the reader with anything less; yet it is redemption hard-won and fragile as a butterfly’s wings.

¤

Tina McElroy Ansa is the author of the novels Baby of the Family, Ugly Ways, The Hand I Fan With, You Know Better, and Taking After Mudear. She is completing Secrets of a Bogart Queen, a work of nonfiction.

The post A Trokosi Mirror of the US-Mexican Border: On Bernice L. McFadden’s “Praise Song for the Butterflies” appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

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[newstfionline]

For Lebanese Women, a Beach of One’s Own

By Vivian Yee and Hwaida Saad, NY Times, Sept. 10, 2018

JIYEH, Lebanon--They call it the ladies’ beach. The name is demure; the scene, not so much--at least not once they pass the parking lot, the man checking tickets at the front gate and the dim corridor at whose far end blazes a rectangle of bronze sand and sea.

Hijabs are unwound from heads, veils tugged from faces. Jeans and abayas evaporate, divulging string bikinis, tankinis and swim shorts. Under spindly cabanas by azure waves, two women lie chest down on lounge chairs, their bare backs implying bare fronts. All around them, gallons of tanning oil glisten on acres of copper skin.

When a man on a jet ski buzzes past, a female lifeguard warns him off with a staccato of whistle blasts.

“Men,” said Nada, a school bus supervisor from Beirut who was treading the Mediterranean just offshore, “are suffocating.”

In Lebanon, a sliver of a country on the Mediterranean coast where summer sticks to your skin like moist Saran wrap, the beach is less a luxury than a utility. It is hard to imagine going without.

Public and pay-by-the-day beaches line the coast from Tyre in the south to Tripoli in the north, and every other billboard on the highways out of Beirut seems to display a bikini model promoting a tanning aid. (SPF, evidently, is not in style.)

But many observant Muslim women consider it “haram”--forbidden--to expose their bodies in front of men who are not their husbands or, in some cases, close relatives. Other women may cover themselves in deference to conservative families and communities.

For them, a mixed-gender beach is to be avoided; those who go with their families roast in the sun fully clothed in hijabs and long-sleeved shirts and pants or abayas, the full-length caftans popular among devout Lebanese Muslim women.

Hence the emergence of ladies’ beaches like this one, the Bellevue Beach Club in the seaside town of Jiyeh--a salt-tinged hiatus from the male gaze for $18 a day, just 20 minutes down a trash-perfumed highway from Beirut.

It is a dedicated patch of sand for conservative women amid the cultural mélange of Lebanon, which, with its 18 recognized religious sects and vigorous all-night party scene, tends to be more socially liberal than other Arab countries.

At the Bellevue, there seemed to be as many different degrees of scanty cladding as there were women. For some women, religious scruples argued for more coverage. For others, style considerations, and the heat, argued for less. Each woman had made her own peace with the proportions.

“Here, I’m free to be me,” said Rabab Amhaz, 35, a housewife from the inland Bekaa Valley. She gestured to her tankini, bright with a teal floral pattern, and shimmied in the water.

Seeking a second opinion on her beach visit, she had consulted her brother, a Hezbollah fighter. He had not only given her his blessing but shown her a YouTube video of a Muslim cleric explaining that swimwear was acceptable among women, so long as the women covered their lower bodies.

Nada, who began wearing the veil when she married at age 14, dismissed this assessment: You could find a cleric to say anything you wanted, she said.

Following her own strong conviction that all the skin on display around her was forbidden--who knew who might be watching from one of the boats that periodically splashed by? or from behind the walls of the resort?--she had looked at herself in the mirror that morning and changed into a more modest bottom. She also declined to reveal her last name to a reporter, preferring to avoid the prospect of disapproval at home.

But a swimsuit was a swimsuit--in this case, a black-and-white patterned swim tank with black shorts.

“When you see me on Facebook, I look completely different,” she said, her hair loose and ropy in the water. “You wouldn’t recognize me.”

After next year, when she planned to make the hajj, the pilgrimage to Mecca that every Muslim who can afford it is supposed to undertake at least once, she said she would avoid even the ladies’ beach; she, like many women who have completed the hajj, would adopt more modest attire.

And she frowned on the women who had brought their young sons, who are allowed up to age 8, to the beach. She did not want her sons or grandsons to get used to seeing women’s bodies.

But still. “I love to swim,” she said, smiling and shrugging, “so I have no other choice.”

Nada and Ms. Amhaz agreed on one point: absolutely no beach selfies, not even to share with their husbands. “No, no!” they exclaimed, high-fiving.

“My husband doesn’t need pictures,” Ms. Amhaz said. “He sees everything anyway.”

Cameras are banned, the better to protect the beachgoers’ modesty and privacy, though cellphones are not. But visits to several other Lebanese resorts, undertaken purely for journalistic purposes, suggested few other differences between women-only beaches and mixed ones beyond the obvious.

No matter the setting, gossip and hookah pipes scent the air. Snacks, water and shade are at a premium. People-watching is frequently rewarding.

Several ladies’ beaches fringe the coastline south of Beirut, their names redolent of sandy glamour around the world (the Laguna; the Bondi). The Bellevue Beach Club began offering women-only days in the mid-1990s after veiled women began asking for privacy.

Business was good--better than on mixed days, even. It soon went all women, all the time.

A man collects tickets, but no other males are allowed. Women staff the restrooms and the pool. The staff includes the Australian and Filipino wives of the brothers who run the Bellevue, who go to mixed beaches together.

There is a female DJ for the thatch-roofed poolside cabana where beachgoers undulate, hips exuberantly asway, to the Egyptian singer Sherine Abdel Wahab and the Lebanese singer Maya Yazbek.

Lebanon, where people from different sects share offices, neighborhoods and businesses, and crop tops can outnumber hijabs in some Beirut neighborhoods, might seem like a natural inventor of the ladies’ beach. But women-only hours at the pool or the beach are common in other parts of the Middle East, too, including the United Arab Emirates and Bahrain, where dress codes for local women are more uniformly conservative.

At the Bellevue, there were no religious strictures regarding swim attire but each woman’s own.

Nada’s 21-year-old daughter wears modest gym clothing when she goes to mixed beaches with her husband; at the Bellevue, she wore a bikini top with a short swim skirt. She had brought a Syrian friend who, taken aback at the way the other beachgoers dressed, kept a tank top on.

Then there was Rana Ghalayini, a nurse from Beirut who had first put on the veil when she was 12, only to remove it because her family thought she was too young. When she married at 23, she and her husband agreed that she should be veiled. But she had resolved to keep her three young daughters unveiled until they, too, were 23.

“Religion is broad,” she said. “It’s a personal choice.”

Her reasons for wearing a one-piece swimsuit to the Bellevue were somewhat more earthly.

“If I were skinny,” she said, “I’d wear a bikini.”

[iliketorantandstuff]

Wandering in Punjab

I think one of the biggest blunder my parents made was to let me go on that exchange trip back in 2015 to Romania, because since after then it has been almost impossible for them to contain me within the bounds of our house. You see, I got high, I got high on the intoxication of freedom, and solitude and the high got me addicted to it. In the last two and a half years, I have visited three countries, and almost over twenty cities and towns. The adrenaline when the plane takes off, and the train starts moving, and the sound of my own breath that I can feel when I walk for miles with my shades on, it’s fodder to the well-being of my soul.

I haven’t posted about my travels yet, but I believe this recent excursion demands me to write because this was an altogether a very different experience. The first time I traveled internationally on my own, especially that backpacking trip across Turkey where in 15 days, with no prior bookings, or plans which cities I wanted to see, I discovered my potential. I used to go to the bus stand, stand there, see which city seemed more favorable after hitting some Google tabs, I would hop on a night bus, saving my night stay cost of hotels, get off in the morning, explore the city, and hop on another bus by the evening. Convenient, no? Not as much as it sounds, it was quite hard; my parents had no knowledge that I was absolutely alone in a country whose 80% of the population does not even speak English. It was difficult, and I used to take that as one of my achievements. But believe me you, all those very cute “wanderlusts, and travelers”, travelling alone abroad is one thing, and travelling alone in our own country, which has very limited means of infrastructure to support your commute, people are alien to the idea of a non-foreigner travelling alone, and that too a girl. Haw haye!

When 2018 started off, a friend and I decided to maintain journals while having our chai sessions at Roadside Cafe. That journal had my to do list for the year, I thought if I’d write it down, I’d be able to achieve it since the need to check off will keep biting me. Travel to Bahawalpur this year! I saw Bahawalpur’s pictures in some Instagram post some two years back, and I planned it with my bae back then, “chalo jee, kisi din sath chal kar dekeingay”, bae turned out to be bae-wafa and I thought khadday mein jaye Bahawalpur, Akeley kia jaungi.. Adhooray khuwab. Until recently I was like screw it, let’s do it on my own. 23rd march luckily gave us a long weekend, which I noted down earlier this year; because that was the weekend, I decided I’ll go off. However, work came in between, and the plan got delayed. Somehow, I got lucky again. My boss came to me and said I should go for my field visit to Multan. Hain, kia? A little taken aback, but gleaming after a few seconds, it gave me another hope. All said and done and after having communicated with my boss who looked at me astonishingly that why of all places would I choose Bahawalpur for an excursion after my sales visit? I flew to Multan on Tuesday with my return flight on Sunday from Bahawalpur airport. Yay! Also, I’d like to take a moment here to highlight, that ladies and gentlemen, THAT’S how you manage your work life balance. Life doesn’t end once you get into corp life, it’s all about will and smart management. True story.

Ok, guys friendly advice, pls March onwards sochiyega bi mat to go off to Southern Punjab, especially if you’re from Karachi the hawadaar Jannat. MEIN TOU MAR GAI. it was very hot. Like dehydrated kind. Got off at the Multan airport, and woah, it definitely surpassed my expectations because it was a very well maintained airport, with a lot of usage of blue tiles, since blue pottery is big in Multan. The city of Saints, I sighed. I got out of the airport to hail my Careem and proceeded towards my hotel. As soon as I got off the airport premises, on my left side I could see some fields, while on the right side I could see red bricked, short heighted walls. That particular sight is what has always reminded me of where I am; Punjab. Call me stereotypical or throwing a generalization, but be it Lahore, Gojra, Sargodha, Rawalpindi, or Multan in this matter, short heighted red bricked walls is something you’ll commonly find around you. Heading towards the hotel, I see posters of different political parties, I could tell the area was heavily dominated by PTIs supporter, upon asking the driver he tells me that this is the city of Shah Mahmood Qureshi, which made sense. My hotel was at Abdali Road, named after Abdali Mosque, which was also dressed in Blue tiles, and kaashkaari, a contemporary mosque fused with the cultural setting of the city.

Next day, my sales visit was planned for old Multan, near Bohar Gate. My car only took me so far, I had to get off way before the gate, and the walk inside of the old city was all on my own, since the streets were more like arteries, so narrow, with vendors by the side selling all kinds of things. As I went on for my work, from the car I saw Haram Gate, Pak Gate, Delhi Gate, and Dolat Gate. Intrigued as I was, I asked my driver to explain me its significance, and he replied that the city of Multan used to be contained within these gates, with arteries connecting in the middle. It was built like a Qila, a fort, so whenever they’d have the khadshaa of a war, they’d shut it down, and protect the people and the city. Genius, I thought to myself. However, now the city has populated well, and has more territories, and peripheries, which makes the up city. 

The next day, after my sales visit, during my break, which was between 3 o clock – 6 o clock, I set out to see what the city is known for; to pay my regards to the saints. Now now, I am not a very religious person, but I am a very spiritual person, so these places were a must, but man, what a wrong timing I chose since jal kar raakh hogaii. Hailed a Careem for Shah Rukn I Alam, the driver dropped me at this gate, asking me to continue the journey on foot now since the car couldn’t go inside. Had to walk about a kilometer, but could spot the Shrine from miles away because of its giant figure. With my crinkle white dupatta wrapped around my face, and my yellow glasses popped in, I wasn’t fitting in well quite frankly, and hence the stares. I entered the shrine, had to take off my shoes, and it felt like my talwaay were rested upon dozakh, aag hi lag gai. Going around it, and inside, I paid my regards, and prayed to Allah. Took a few pictures here and there in the karak dhoop, but an interesting visit altogether. 

There I also found out that he was grandson to Bahauddin Zakariya, which was my next station. Like Shah sahib, I said salam to Zakariya sahib too, which was like two kilometers away from Shah Sahib. 

Walking all on foot, I felt liberated to a whole new level because a girl doing this on her own in Bucharest was one thing, but in a lesser urban city like Multan, where I knew no one, & vice versa, it was exhilarating. Next, I hopped on in my Careem, and headed to Shah Shams Tabriz, it was about 4.30 and I could still spare some time. Shrine of Shams Tabriz was near this famous bazaar called Hussainagai, which was a miniature version of Saddar, Karachi. Selling everything and anything, you name it and it was there. It was scorching hot, & so while I was ranting about it, my driver went on to say “baaji aurton ko dekhein, itni garmi mein bi inki shaaaping nai rukti,” I lightly chuckled, because it was so true.

Reaching the Shrine, I realized that most of the mureeds over there were Shiites. Said my salaam, and left, and the last stop I had to make was to the blue pottery shop where I bought a couple of small delicacies. Continued my work there, and the next day was the more awaited day where my official tour had ended and my own exploration had to begin.

So from there on, it was all on my own. It took me about two and a half hours reaching Bahawalpur from Multan on a rent a car, because the road is a little bit under construction. My father is an ex-army officer, so I had spoken to him and asked if somehow I could secure a room in the army mess, since first, I absolutely love the Cantonment areas because of the clean and isolated environment, which I can’t experience anymore in Karachi, and second, the army messes are quite cost effective. Driving up to my room, I was suddenly full of nostalgia and homely feeling. I spent most of my childhood in different cantonments around Pakistan, and the previous past ten years of my life, I was situated in Malir Cantt Karachi, until last year. Settling in my almost decent room, I took out my diary and started scribbling all the areas I had to see, and writing down all that I had learnt during Multan. Ali Sethi’s Mahi Mera playing on my JBL speaker, I started to nest in my little room. In the evening, I went out for a walk around the Cantt, covering almost two kilometers on foot while taking several photos of the beautiful vicinity, the sunset, the brown leaves on the ground fallen from the tree.

 I popped into one of the shops to buy mosquito repellent, and bottle of juice, I walked some more. There were stares, obviously, a girl with an urban sense of clothing walking all alone in the stranded roads, was not something people there were used to. TGIF, Thank God it was Friday. Idk why, but eh. Saw the moon come up, it was a full moon, short of one day. Went back to my room, ordered some food, and ironed my clothes for next day. Plugged in my Netflix & caught up on the latest episode of Riverdale (DON’T JUDGE) and slept.

Next day, I was ready by 9.30, I had hailed a rent a car earlier for the day, which helped me commute. My first stop was the Bahawalpur Central Library. Entering, & finding a Rolls Royce parked at the front to welcome the visitors was just the beginning. Words will fall short if I even begin to explain what the library was like. I am a book sniffer. I buy books, open them, sniff them as if they’re my drugs, and feel euphoric. Entering that library was my Amsterdam where I could just get high anywhere & everywhere. That old smell of books reminded me of the diary my grandma gave me in which she used to scribble things during her youth days. Hell, I really can’t put in words what that place was like. Since picture is worth thousand words, here are some few hundred thousands of words explaining that I possibly can’t.

History. I am a history person, there was so much there, I couldn’t fathom. I search for spaces in Karachi where I could just go sit, and enjoy my vibe while having a cup of tea and reading some novel thoughts of Ashfaq Ahmad, and here it was. This gigantic place where that’s all people were doing. Upon asking the librarian, I got to know that the books here are either donated, or are funded by the government. It’s the second biggest library in the entire province, and the pillars of it are made of daal maash, chaawal, and doodh, this is precisely why it still stands untouched, undamaged. I spotted students sitting outside, hogging over a book discussing some theorem, nostalgia from IBA days filled my mind, sitting in Tabba block, hogging over kitaabs and notes.

Next to the library was the Bahawalpur Museum, which charged about 10 rupees for entrance and 10 rupees more if I wanted to take pictures. As I entered, I see this very tiny vintage Fiat. Upon inquiring, I got to know that Nawab Sadiq used to take his mummy around the palace in this car since she couldn’t walk much. How adorbz, and insanely royal. Mahal ghumanay ke liye alag gaari, wah.

The wall was covered with historical pre partition pictures starting from Tipu Sultan, War of Independence, Siraj ud Daula, Shaukat brothers, and moving all the way till Shaheed-e-Millat was sworn in as the Prime Minister Pakistan. One of the caption of the pictures was hand-written, and so it got me suddenly. I immediately inquired where did these pictures come in from, and I was told that these are all the original pictures. I was shaken up a bit because all this time I had seen these pictures in my history books, but never knew where the original ones rested. Wow, I moved on and saw the ruins of civilizations, left overs of the lifestyles of people of Cholistan and Bahawalpur, ruins from Harappa, Moen Jo Daro, the stupas of Gautama Buddha, the currency of Bahawalpur when it was a separate state, models of Derawar Fort, and so on. Infinite many little things I learnt, that I probably could not have learned from the books. Spending almost 45 minutes at the museum, I came out and next I visited Darbar Mahal.

For Darbaar Mahal, you need to take permission, the perks of Army allowed me to enjoy this facility. As soon as I entered, I saw this not so tall, but nonetheless very royal looking wide handsome palace. I sighed a little and entered with light steps, because I really didn’t want to infiltrate the beauty I was stepping into. Finding large portraitures of Nawab Sadiq and his ancestors, the tour guide told me all about his family, the palace’s history, what, when, why and how it was built. To say the least it was about 200 years old. The architecture infused with Victorian style, Hindu arches, and Muslim Balconies, synonymous to our generation Z; an influenced mix of cultures. 

I took my time to explore the beauty of it, while the guide went on to narrate history of Bahawalpur, its formation, its adjoining with Pakistan, and its facilitation to Pakistan Army back in 1950s. Darbar Mahal, now hosts offices of Generals of the Army of the commanding and stationed unit in Bahawalpur, and sometimes hosts events for Corp Commander and so on. Infront of the mahal were the typical diwaan e khaas and diwaan e aam, baramdah for resting and musical events. The darbaaris would also come in with their faryaads there, and they’ll have a hearing session in those facilities. Near the mahal, there were two more mahals, which were named after the wives of the Nawab. Yahan humein ek kagaz ka phool nai milta, my thoughts to my own miserable self. (Self-deprecating humor is my self-defense mechanism)

I also visited Islamia University, Baghdaad campus which was like the first world version of Karachi University. With a radius of 7 km, the university holds about 52 faculties, with a mini zoo in between, some five girls and seven boys hostel, and numerous facilities. I was amazed to see a designated study area for girls which was an open air park with an artificial pond in between, basketball and tennis courts, and outdoor table and benches with lights fixed, so they are also able to study at night. A replica of the same was available for boys. Now, mind you I couldn’t avail these privileges even at a place like IBA. Feeling deprived of such a rich setting in an urban city like Karachi, I went back to my mess to rest for the remainder of the sunny day. 

My evening visit had to conclude with Noor Mahal, which was my last stop for the weekend’s exploration tour. Alluringly illuminated, Noor Mahal was open to public, and was bigger than I had imagined. From what I’ve heard, this mahal was a gift to Nawab Sadiq IV’s wife, however she refused to reside there due to its proximity with a graveyard. She only ever spent a night there. After being severely consumed by the architecture of the grandeur, I left the mahal with a heavy heart because I swear I could have just stayed there. 

Adding on to that, the realization of heading back to Karachi was sinking in too. I had my dinner at a local restaurant called Four Seasons, and headed back to my mess.

Next day, I spent working on my presentation and in the evening boarded flight back to Karachi from Bahawalpur airport, which by the way was like a mini hospital in Karachi. Sitting in an ATR plane was my first of experiences since I have usually flown in 777 or 707 Boeings, usual flights of Karachi, but this was like a tiny plane. Being the only woman in the entire plane, and sitting between two uncles adjacent to me, and one on each side, I could not have imagined myself being in a more uncomfortable place ever. Experience, I sighed, for these little things are what makes me bold enough to do all these wild adventures on my own. 

I finished off my book on Rumi’s teachings, and just waited to touch down Karachi. Getting on to the Drigh Road from Airport, I got stuck for some 40 minutes because of the traffic. Yup, I was back in my city and its hustle bustle, but this time with a lifetime worth of memories!