ISNA Weekend and Beyond...

AA

Well, loyal fans, it's been a minute, hasn't it? Okay, so I should NOT be admitting this, but, hey, what the heck: As I type this entry tonight, I'm listening to Ray J's new joint One Wish. Yes, I know, Ray J... Brandy's little punk-of-a-brother. Whatever it is about this song (and not any other of his so-called songs), I feel it.

Anyway, here's a brief recap of the weekend:

ISNA Weekend.

I was not really planning on attending ISNA this year. But then I remembered that I could possibly find my wife during ISNA, so...

:) Basically, the entire time was spent hanging out in the bazaar or lobby...chillin with friends.

Saturday: I went with this guy who wore a shirt that said, "I HAVE CANDY." Okay, I have to say this: that was embarassing. Come on, man, what are you trying to say? Especially after Fifty's Candy Shop song?! Some of my friends kinda looked at me and were like, "Who's the guy with the shirt?" Now, don't get me wrong here. The brotha with the shirt is a nice guy, but the shirt was questionable (sorry, bro, if you're reading this!).

Moving on now to Sunday: I was initially hanging out with Taha. We went to some DePaul friends' booth where they are in the business of selling clothing. My boy Taha gets really involved and lost in the world of 'power selling,' so I ditch him after suffering through many of his failed attempts. Finally, AJ comes along and saves me, so I hung out with him. I also bumped into Farooq, which was nice to see that baller (mashaAllah). Of course, I probably ran into most of my friends and a handful of family.

I guess ISNA is whatever you make of it. It can be a 'religious' experience if you make the effort to attend as many lectures as possible and spend time amongst good company. It can also be a completely social affair by spending most of your time as I did: hang out for a little bit in the bazaar and a little bit in the lobby(-ies). And then it can be a completely, let's say, liberating experience! Enter "Club ISNA" as it's now commonly referred to. This is for the people who exclusively hang out in the lobbies (especially the Hyatt) and are interested in familiarizing themselves with members of the opposite sex. :) Does that sound a bit better than saying, "...and are interested in hooking up" or "...and are interested in degrading themselves as much as possible." Ouch. That last quote was a nasty slap...sorry.

The thing is, man, you have to be careful and keep yourself in check. Hanging out with girls can be, to be honest, fun and tempting. It's just the stuff that you can get into which causes problems and then gets you into trouble, ya know? This time, enter one's brother: AJ. MashaAllah, it's good to have a friend...or, in his case, someone that's like a blood brother...that has similar intersets like oneself (i.e., the deen, self-respect, etc.) and ensures that we keep on the straight path as much as we can, despite our weaknesses.

As AJ knows, I've been big into this "spending time with quality brothers" thing lately. It stemmed two Sundays ago when Sh. Amin (Oh Allah, please protect him and his family and bless him with the best in this world and in the Hereafter. Allah huma salay ala Muhammad. Ameen) mentioned, while giving tafseer of Surah Furqan, a concept along the lines of saying to yourself on the Day of Judgement, "Why did I spend time with such-n-such friend who diverted me away from xyz." "XYZ" being something deen-related. SubhanAllah. It's amazing, man. Soon after that brief statement Sh. Amin mentioned, I recalled advice that was given to me by Sh. Hussain Sattar over two/three years ago: Imran, the most important thing for you, from what little you have told me, is that you need to have good friends because of the influence your friends have. Back then and up 'til that point two Sundays ago, I never really appreciated that statement. But, in the past few months of my life, I can see how profound that piece of advice truly is. SubhanAllahi wa bi Hamdihi! Our scholars are beyond our planes of existence. And if they're beyond our plane of existence, then what sort of level does the Beloved (sw) begin? No wonder there is a naat that, translated into English from Urdu, states, "Who can understand/appreciate Allah's Greatness other than the Prophet (sw)? And who can understand/appreciate the Prophet's (sw) Greatness other than Allah."

Whoa...talk about your tangents, man. Gotta hit the sack now...

Keep me in your prayers.

The Yearning...

The Yearning

As I sit here and contemplate about you (sw), it dawns upon me that my problem is now self-evident.

How I yearn for another glimpse of you, but how I do nothing to earn it.

So I send my salaam and wish peace and blessings upon you, hoping for your duas.

How I wish I was that tree that you rested upon. How I think that the tree had a better life and purpose than myself. From the distance, the tree provided you comfort with its shade. Yet in reality, it was your shade that penetrated its bark with comfort. And your love that served as its water and nourishment. How hard has my heart become and dried my tears are if I, a being with emotions, intellect, and a soul, do not have the same reverence as a simple tree? How far has this unfortunate nomad ventured if but a simple tree cried upon hearing that you (sw) were to move it elsewhere. How lifeless is this soul that does not pray as he should when the tree prayed and pleaded that you not remove it. And how can your kindness be measured when you told this tree that you would plant it elsewhere. Why am I unable to realize and yearn like a simple tree does?

How I wish I was the wine that was presented to you. Though you chose milk, how fortunate was that glass to be in your presence. And then to further be presented as an option to you. And though it was permissible for you, you did not take it.

I am the worst among them, yet our Beloved (swt) blessed these lifeless eyes with a glimpse of you in serene perfection. Indeed, how Merciful is He that facilitated this to a slave who has surrendered himself to his whims. And how merciful are you, that you gave me a few seconds of your time. Your mercy and His Mercy are beyond what words or even a heart can feel or manifest.

A nomadic slave without purpose was given a moment of peace. If there was an action or an intention that was pleasing to Thee, please let me know what it was. So that I may do it again and again and again. So that I can enact that moment for an entire lifetime.

I am, in a word, clueless. Or in other words, a prolific sinner. You are knowledgeable and my Protector. You have given this nomad light in a desert of loneliness. A desert devoid even that of warmth or coldness. A desert that is nothing more but barren waste. A place where you find no one else and see reflections of a wasted life. Yet, You are tremendous. And without forewarning, Your Might Hand lifts me out of these depths. Indeed, you are All-Hearing. That, despite this loneliness and sin, you inspire me to make a dua for Your Assistance. And through all the broken reflections, You cup me in Your Hand and return me to light.

Paradoxically, I then desire nothing more but more loneliness. But now a type of solitude to where I am left to only Thee and thoughts of Thy Beloved.


Ya Nabi Salaam Alayka

The Kite Runner : Progress (2)

AA

Alright. I've finally had a little more time to catch-up on reading this book. I'm now on page 94 or so.

I'm at a point now if I 1) don't know if I should stop reading or 2) continue reading because I wanna know what happens to this fricken Amir character, who is really just, to put it simply, pissing me off!! For those that read the book, you can probably guess that I just read the entire kite flying scene and what happened to poor, loyal Hassan thereafter.

I was so shocked, man. I hope I don't meet anyone with the name "Assef" right now. I also just read the part where Amir throws the pomengranets (sp) at Hassan. Can we all cry together now, please? Fricken A. Hassan is like some sort of hardcore sufi murid or something, man! ;)

I guess I'll continue reading the book. I suppose that if a book gets you this emotional, it's pretty darn good. But after this book, I'm gonna go back to reading Dr. Seuss' The Cat in the Hat...

That's the update for now, folks.

Cheers.

Living Wisdom

AA

My grandmother (nani ammi) is Alhamdullilah so beautiful.

How is it that when you look at someone's eyes, you see the manifestation of wisdom, compassion, and a soul that has seen and experienced just about everything?

Subhan Allah. Of course, this is only through Allah's Mercy.

When you look at her and can understand, through some inexplicabe way, that she has lived through so much you cannot but help to marvel at her strength.

You cannot help but to remember the loss of her beloved son and our beloved momu, Raja Samadani (may Allah be well pleased with him. Ameen). You feel her loss, but also her deep love and affection for him.

You know that she is serious when she tells you that for her eldest son, her pride & joy, she would not only manage to get herself up and go to the airport to pick him up, but would walk to the airport to greet him...no matter the distance.

You're then able to do the impossibe and travel back to time with her stories of a serene, baraqa-filled life back in Pakistan. You can visualize and even taste the food she describes when she tells stories of what and how people used to eat back then. You are in awe of her perseverance. Her vigor and humbleness. Her knowledge. Her elegance. Her love.

And you are then saddened, too, when you see all this, but then also see her takleef. When you see her physically breathless because of her health condition, you are convinced that you have taken your last breaths. And when you massage her to make her feel better, you pray that it was you suffering instead and that your hands were blessed with a power, from Allah, to fill her with energy and to absorb all her worries and hardships away.

You are blown away at her patience. You are humiliated when she repeatedly asks you to stop massaging her, as she herself wishes to be a burden to no one.

And in the moments where you are away from her, you feel as though meaning has been stripped from your heart. In such moments where her bed lies empty, you sit alone by that bed hoping that your eyes are deceiving you. Or cry because you are not certain what to do anymore. Helpless because love and mercy are not with you.

It is a given that all this is from Allah. And so you have no choice but to drop yourself and your inhibitions to Him and thank Him for it. And ask Him forgiveness, too.

And, by the smiling eyes of Nani Ammi, your entire soul is caressed with the sweet rememberance of Allah and longing desire to be with the Holy Prophet (sw), for if my grandmother's eyes are this captivating, then how much and more so is the look from The Beloved of Allah?

It is with these thoughts and emotions that we ask to traverse this earth in his (sw) footsteps, with Allah's Protection, Favor, and Mercy. All the while with Nani Ammi holding our hand.

As Salaamu Alaikoom Wa Rahmatullahi Wa Barakatahu

In honour of Rex...

Rex!

A poem in honor of the re-injured Rex Grossman (Chicago Bears QB)

Oh Rex!

I feel thy pain.
Fret not, as now is not the time for disdain.

Oh, how the rain never seems to end!
Your fricken ankle did bend.

Concentrate, my boy, and do amend thy body & soul.
For now is not the time to put away the Wheaties cereal bowl.

Nay! Rather you should dance and prance around,
Yelling to all, "To Da Bears I am bound!"

Yet, still, heed my warning: If you do not play,
I will make sure you get screwed by a gay.

Be strong. Be cool. Be a Bear.


Shakespeare has left the building.

Mahin's (royal) Wedding

Hi

Loyal readers: I have returned safely, masha Allah, from a long weekend of being incredibley busy, but perhaps in the best and most enjoyable of ways.

My cousin, Mahin, got married this past weekend and the events were unbelievable.

Wed night: Dance practice. But, in what has become a classic "Imran" move, I ditched it to play basketball.

Thurs night: Milad. Two people from the East Coast came and sang very beautiful naats. Qari Waheed Zafar Qasmi was supposed to come, but getting him a visa was not possible, unfortunately. Nonetheless, good times, good company, good food. Post Milad: Dance practice. Okay, so may be not the best of things to do post-milad, but necessary, right?

Fri night: Mehndi. Beautiful stage (best I've ever seen)! Chocolate fountain. Food. Women. Bhangra. Dreams do come true, apparently.

Sat night: Shadee. Peninsula. (See http://chicago.peninsula.com/iflash.html). Classy. Elegant. Sophisticated. Beautiful. Univ of Wisconsin Marching Band. Dhol vala. Walked around the lobby in what seemed a royal parade of the Raj Pooths taking over Chicago. I felt like waving at the royal subjects...err, on-lookers, that is.

Sun morning: Walima (brunch). Best.Breakfast.Ever. Four Seasons Hotel. Awesome picture slideshow of Tahira (Tana) and Mahin. Stunning poetry by my mother. Singing from Dr. Momu (my uncle, Mahin's father).

You would be correct to think that I didn't want the weekend to be over. At the end, it was so draining (in a good way, mind you) that I had to take Monday off from work to recuperate!

Subhan Allah. My khandan does it big.

Salaam

The Kite Runner : Progress

AA.

So the first 20 pages are not bad. I'd say about a 7.5 / 8 out of 10 so far.

Didn't like some of the graphic wording used to describe this, let's say, indecent woman. I also didn't like a negative portrayal of Sunni Muslims. We're not perfect, but we're not terrible. Alhamdullilah. We're not the ones who caused so much fitna. I'll stop with that...it's not like I'm a historian or scholar of any regard.

Oh, but I did like the father's statement (though major oversimplification) of there being one sin: stealing. Stealing as in taking away someone's right to something/someone, not just theft. That was cool. But I hated the reason why the father ("Baba") used that argument: To justify his consumption of alcohol.

Man, and they're gonna make a movie about this, and I know that negative stuff will be shown. I know, I know...it's a part of reality, but I hate it when that type of reality is repeatedly shown to "Westerners" for two reasons: 1) It's like someone is trying hard to fit in with Western ideals and 2) it's like Muslims always have to be associated with nothing but negative things.

Just some initial thoughts for now...

Salaam.

Bears Won!

Yeah...so it was just the first game. And that of the pre-season, too. But, MAN, it's the fricken Bears, dude!

Bears Zindabad!! Bears Zindabad!!

The Cubs Game "Story" (or experience...)

Hi

So, just over a week ago I went to good ol' Wrigley Field to watch the Cubbies take on AZ Diamondbacks. It was all courtesy of none other than Harry Carry...I mean Harry Lakhani...okay, okay...Harris Lakhani. The following is a re-enactment of what traspired that day:

I managed a 1/2 day off at work and agreed on picking up my boy Harris. To no real surprise of Harris, I was late. And to no real surprise of myself, I was freaking out on the way thinking, Harris is gonna kill me! Soon after, however, I quickly remembered one thing: I'm Punjabi and Harris is Memon. Alhamdullilah, there's no way he could kill me now. Of course, using his Memon business sense, he could've made a deal conning me into lashing myself a few times, but I was nonetheless content in knowing that Harris himself could not inflict pain on me.

Ahh, sorry, I transgress...

We took off in the speedy 4-cylinder phantom gray 2005 Toyota Corolla. The Corolla, you see, is my new pimp ride, masha Allah. Ever since the death of the spruce green 1998 Ford Taurus 6-banger SE Limited with a dual overhead cam engine back in Dec 2004 (may Allah be well pleased with it), the "fun size" or "Phantom Gay" (as Taha 'used-to-be-my-homie-until-his-best-friend-from-STL-came-to-chicago-with-an-acura-TL' Ghani often refers to it) has taken over as my second home. Though I miss the beautifully sexy Taurs, I am content with whatever has been given to me by God and so 'The Phantom' is the new apple of my eye.

Oops! I transgress yet again. What story am I telling here? Oh, yes...the Cubs.

Before I knew it, we arrived to our destination, but at a big cost: On the way, Harris (aka, Mr. Allstate Insurance) kept telling me about his friggen past and told me things like, "This is where Allstate used to be located," or "That is an Allstate office," or "Allstate is where I've always wanted to work," or "96% of the desis at Allstate are my cousins" and things of that nature. Big whoopin deal, Harris! Why don't you marry Allstate, huh? But then it dawned on me that it was Harris who was providing me the free ticket (you think I'd actually pay!) courtesy of Allstate, so I quickly feigned interest. I replied to his comments with, "Oh, so that's where Allstate used to be located at, huh?" or "So, that's an Allstate office, huh?" or "So, Allstate is where I've always wanted to work, huh? I mean, where you wanted to work, huh?" At that last automated response I gave him, Harris remained silent for a good 25 minutes and would just kinda nod and smile at things I would say, even when I would try testing him to see if he was actually listening to me: "So, Harris. You're obviously not listening to me at this point for some messed up reason. Probably because you're Memon, punk-face. So tell me, you think I'm more attractive than your fiance, huh?" Harris' reaction: Nod and smile. Now I knew he wasn't listening. No newly engaged desi man would ever admit such a thing even in jest! So how rude is that fricken jerk, huh?

Okay, okay. I obviously made all that up. (Harris, please, please continue reading, bro -- you know I'm just messin!) Well, there goes another friend of mine. But at least I was able to make myself crack up a few times as I sit alone in the dark in front of computer at 11:35pm on a Mon night...

Wow - I'm officially tired of myself, so I'll have to continue the Cubs story at another date'n'time.

Best!

Just call me Enron...

AA

Jeez! Can someone remind me if we work to live or live to work?! Because these days, I'm leaning towards the latter. Or I guess I should say I'm being *pushed* to do the latter!

It's no wonder when I drive through Lincoln Park (DePaul campus), I miss it so much. No one back then pushed me to do anything! ...sigh... The good old days...

Well, the point of today's entry is to vent about work and make myself laugh at my jokes (it never fails):

So, I love it when I work on something for three hours continuously at work and find out that it was all done in vain. Or, in my PM's case, all done in plain stupidness. And those three hours were an unflinching, focused three hours that required me NOT to 1) socialize with others, 2) detach my eyes from the computer screen, 3) use or even thinking about using the bathroom, and 4) breathe too hard. Imagine that and then your PM coming in (laughing, of course) and telling you, "Imran, we actually don't need to work on that because I just found out the client does not require it anymore."

YEAH RIGHT! Nice line, boss! Let me break down, translate, and tell you what that lines really means to me, folks:

"Imran..." = usually pronounced more like "Emron," or in recent times, "Enron." Yeah, skippy, my mom changed my name from "Imran" to "Enron" right after the Enron scandal so she could do her civic duty and remind the world of what happens to corrupt, rich people.

"...we actually..." = "WE?" Are you kidding me? How do you even get the nerve to say "we?" It was ME who was slaving away while YOU were reading up on ESPN.com.

"...don't need to work..." = Huh? What's that? I can go home and sleep now because I've sacrificed the need for sleep working on 'our' project which has now resulted my transformation into a new human species where we *only* require the ever so luminescent office lighting as our primary source of nourishment and stale donuts in the kitchen as our primary source of spiritual refuge. You're saying, then, that I can de-evolve back into a regular old human and fulfill my bizzare emotional needs by seeng my family and physical needs by eating and sleeping again? Thanks. So much.

"...on that because I just found out the client does not require it anymore..." = You mean you just came back from your 2.5 hour lunch where you managed to eat at P.F. Changs, flirt with the waitress, then hit a few golf balls at the range only to return to the office to open unread email and old voicemail message from the client saying they don't "require it anymore" about four days ago?

And my response: "Oh, gotcha. Thanks for the update, boss. You saved me a lot of pain!" Smile and laugh with him. Then watch him walk out of the room saying, "Man, I could sure go for a drink now..."

Just don't come back, sir...

Best Regards.