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Paper and memories

Why do I have no sentimentally hoarded notebooks from my childhood, no sweet youthful reflections?

This is why. As soon as I graduated to another class, everything got promptly sold off to the raddi wala in the street. He’d cycle by, calling raddiiiiii waalaaaaa and that was it for my Class 4 or 5 memories. White spouse is often shocked at how I am cavalier about our child’s notebooks and artwork (i.e. I don’t save every scrap of paper with a squiggle on it). Well, this is why. My childhood was sold for a few rupees 😂

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The beauty of old wounds

Some years ago, on this day, I booked my first cabin vacation. It was technically Brown County, Indiana, but only technically.

The vacation was overpriced and underwhelming. The hot tub didn’t work. There was a sad pond with a sad paddle boat, and I am sure there were no fish in the pond despite the claims. The cabin was small, but it was our first, and my kid loved it. She loved the loft, the wooden stairs, the antler chandelier, the fireplace.

It was my attempt to shed the extreme, debilitating effect of workplace bullying and threats of termination. This attempt wasn’t very successful, and just seeing this photo of my blank smile brings it all back. The shadow of that unethical, inhumane supervisor, threatening and politicking as I recuperated from cancer treatments, remained like a dagger in my heart throughout the vacation. But I tried.

But I look back with gratitude because that person, who seemed to thrive on toxicity, is no longer in my workplace, nor is her enabler. Age and experience give you the benefit of knowing that nothing lasts forever. Nothing bad lasts forever ولا غالبَ إلا الله

There is no Victor but God.

Photo by Maaida Noor
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Muslim Santa from World Market

My kid has been a little down, and a little bored with all this staying at home, and not seeing any people.

Well, I have too.

Today I went to World Market. Tell you what, since this pandemic started, we do everything together. I haven’t driven in a long while. So it felt good.

Anyway, it was all holiday stuff. So I decided to appropriate with a vengeance. All your holiday stuff iz belong to us!

I came home laden with stuff and announced, ‘Muslim Santa is here! All this stuff has been Islamized. Don’t worry, we are not selling out. I’ve blown Islamic words on it and now we are celebrating the Eid of Hazrat Maryam/Mary because why not her?!’ 🥳 📿

We pulled Eidul GetLostTrump crackers! Last time I did crackers, I was a 6-year old in London.

OK Islamic capitalists, time to come up with some new fun ornaments. Just a quick note: don’t overdo the camels and moons?

No photo description available.
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An Election Night Prayer

Taif, by Peter Dowley

Today, November 3rd, the day before the U.S. election, I did a collective prayer with my family.

Many have died; far too many more will die if Trump is not removed from power. Allah, save us from this hateful, harmful, narcissistic destroyer of humanity. Grant us safety from him & his followers. Grant us a safe path out of conflict.

I see my family safe by me, and cannot bear to think of hundreds of parents separated from their babies and young children. Thousands unable to feed their children – as the Senate keeps funneling millions to the wealthiest and refuses to grant anything that helps the 99%.

Millions unemployed, losing livelihoods, unable to pay for housing, food, or warmth as winter approaches, with no helping hand, no one but You to call for help. Thousands mourning; thousands unable to care for the sick without healthcare, fearful of losing even the paltry support of the Affordable Healthcare Act.

We can only ask You. We have only You. And You have all power. This moment is a tiny one in the expanse of history. For us, this moment is a heavy one.

Whatever happens, we put our faith in You. I pray to You in the words of Your Beloved Muhammad ﷺ at the trials of Taif.

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