Dawah to a Blonde...

Salaam

...I have a problem. Our intern (= administrative pawn) at work happens to be very attractive. And blonde. And hot. And hot. Not to mention very hot. I know what you're thinking, "And how, exactly, is that a problem, Imran?" Well, the "problem" is that I'm not sure what approach to dawah I should take in order for me to marry her (see, I'm trying to be as halal about this as possible).

So anyway, being inexperienced at this, I naturally turned to the advice of my friends who are perhaps better versed in dawah techniques. After studying a plethora of methodologies, I've broken it down to the following approaches:

1. Farooq Alikhan Dawah: "Salaam. Damn, you're hot. I'm a baller. Marry me and convert. Thanks."

2. Taha Ghani Dawah: "Salaaaaamzz. Damn, I'm hot. Convert and I just might marry you. Or at least flirt."

3. Ahmed Hassan Dawah: "Hey, how you doin? Me? I'm a doctor, babe. I save lives and wanna save yours from hell."

4. Badie Ali Dawah: "As Salaamu Alaikoom wa Rahmatullahi wa Barakatahu. Kayfahalaqa, habibi? And by the way, I'm the operations director of a major media conglomerate. Yeah, I can pencil you in for a nikkah."

5. Aladdin Nasr Dawah: "Salaamz! I'll build you a mansion and let you look at my massive chest if you convert. Holla!"

6. AJ Dawah: "As Salaamu Alaikoom. I just audited some of the work you did and, well, let's just say if you don't convert and marry Imran, you're going to have bigger problems on your plate..."

Eventually I'll implement one of the above mentioned techniques. In the meantime, Farooq gave me the following immediate advice:

"You will need to attach a picture so that we can evaluate her 'hotness' and determine what form of dawah needs to be implemented here....certain test subjects only respond to particular forms of dawah and so proper analysis is necessary for a successful deployment of services."

Note: The above is actually based on excerpts taken from email correspondences throughout the work day. You could say I was bored, overly excited, and a definite loser. Me? I'd rather say that I just need to get married, yo!!

Later

Entertaining Links

Hi All

Check out these links:

Diet Coke & Mentos: What happens when these two things react with one another? Think Vegas...

Dancing Machine: A comedian does an awesomely entertaining job going dancing through music from back-in-the-day old school stuff (Elvis) to today's hits & hip-hop (Jay-Z). Definitely check it out...

And always of interest to me is the ongoing developments in the Middle East...
Qatar: The Next Dubai?


Word to your mother

Fishing: The Final Frontier (Part Three; Final)

*** continued from previous post - part 2 ***

So, like, getting into a boat and trying to get yourself at least twenty feet away from the shoreline is a lot more difficult than you would think. Well, at least if you're with Taha and Ahmed. I thought they would be pros at steering a boat being as they are from STL where the only fun thing they have is going up and down some stupid arch. In fact, I figured that fishing while growing up in Missouri was like the equivalent of going to Great America. I was wrong...

The ever macho Taha thought he could easily paddle us out of the shoreline area. After making us go sideways at one point, backwards another, and then nowhere fast on another occassion, I finally showed him how to maneuvre with the oars. I totally made it seem like I was the resident Boating 101 teacher, even though I had no clue what I was doing myself. But my method worked and of course Taha quickly grabbed the oars back so that credit for getting us out there could go to him. Kudos, Taha.

While I was battling with Taha on that front, Hassan faced his own battles with jump starting the motor. Not having a suture, stethascope, or bottle of Tylenol posed as a daring new challenge for the young doctor. To his credit, the three of us combined couldn't figure it out. Some young white teenager by the shoreline saw us having difficulty with it (or perhaps heard us yelling at one another on how to get the motor started) and so he told us the secret: Put the motor into the water and turn the handle up or down. Or something like that anyway. The point here is that thanks to Hassan NOT being able to figure it out, we looked like desi uncles lost without their wives' cooking. And so finally we cruised at a rip roaring 5, maybe 10, miles per hour (it was a small motor) into our fishing spot.

Okay, so you should know that when I say fishing "spot," I really mean the entire lake. We would stay in one area for a maximum of 15 minutes. We'd get impatient and cruise again. Often times, our cruising would come to a halting stop as we immersed ourselves into a coral reef (i.e. really thick seaweed). Our next struggle came with hooking our juicy nightcrawlers onto the fishing hooks. Hassan and I were able to master this fairly quickly. The ever so macho Taha, on the other hand, was entirely clueless. Where Hassan and I would talk and relax for hours and hours with our fishing hook and bait in the water, drinking a nice cold beer...oh wait, this isn't a Budweiser commercial...you could find Taha wrestling with the worms. In the end, he'd just ask me to hook the worm on. I think that day, at least 15 worms died in vain at the finger tips of Taha Ghani...

After patting ourselves on the shoulders for learning how to control a boat and hook fish, the next task was learning how to cast a line. Hey, don't laugh! It's not as simple as the guys on ESPN's bass pro fishing make it seem out to be! Well, I'm happy to say that making up for his lack of engineering knowledge, AH came through like a champ when it came to hooking a line. He was the first one to cast the line more than a foot away from the boat and his last cast went out for something ridiculous like 500 feet or so. Me and Taha did fairly well ourselves; though Ahmed would never admit to it. In fact, anytime Taha or I would stand up to cast the line, Hassan would duck underneath the seats in the boat in fear of getting his eyeball hooked. Eventually, he soon began to trust our abilities. Except, perhaps, for when Taha would consistently get his fish line stuck in ours. Like every other casting attempt.

I was beginning to think that Taha truly fit the saying, "Fish out of water."

But I am getting ahead of myself. This time to Taha's credit, he did land the first bite of the day. We were goofing off as usual and Taha suddenly realized that his fish line had some tension to it and the little ball thingy (oh yeah, I'm a real professional fisherman) that keeps the worm floating went underneath the water. "I caught something!" he reacted.

"What?! Hell no!" came AH's and mine reaction at the same time. "Reel it in, dude!"

And for a good 30 seconds Taha fought an intense war against, presumably, a catfish. Unfortunately, however, when the hero brought the line in, he brought in an empty hook. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the fish beat Taha in a tug-of-war match. It had succeeded in ripping the worm right off the hook and had somehow managed avoiding getting a hook pierced through its mouth. Our bubble of hope and joy was popped. But only for a moment...

"If Taha got something, there's gotta be more fish out here hungry & waiting!" I declared. Immediately the three of us hooked some more nightcrawlers and casted our lines again in eager anticipation. We waited. And waited. And waited. 10 minutes later Hassan spoke up, "Cap'n. Take us to the fricken fishies."

You're right in thinking that the "Cap'n" was, still is, and will always be none other than yours truly. We eventually incorporated a Star Trek-like image of ourselves. I was Captain Picard. Hassan was LaForge in Engineering. And Taha was Number One/Lt Worf. If you don't know what I'm talking about, then you may as well do something more productive like reading this.

Okay, now that you're back (long live Knight Rider!)...

So hearing, "Cap'n. Take us to the fricken fishies" became a redundant phrase throughout the rest of the voyage. We were not catching anything at all. What was worse was that we noticed some girl caught a huge fish not but a 100 feet away from us. And she was standing on the shore, too. So being typical desis at that moment, we were inspired to 'accidentally' let our boat float in that direction where the girl caught the fish. Sure, the look we got from her and her family was embarassing, but at that point, we were getting desperate. I mean, we did pretty much everything you could do on a boat:

Bonding. Taha and AH were able to psychoanalyze one another by delving into such topics as, "Who's shadier? Taha or Ahmed?" and "In relation to the two going out the previous night and not hanging out was Ahmed a) really, really mad at Taha? b) mad at Taha? c) somewhat mad at Taha? d) unsure of what he felt towards Taha? or e) okay with Taha?" I think they both used me that day to purposely get the other person out in the middle of a lake to address these issues while I played the role of Dr. Phil.

Hunting. Oh, yes, we were hunters that day, too, folks. When things weren't going our way, we looked for geese or ducks that were hanging out and minding their own business in the water. Without hesitation, I'd give Ahmed the order, "Engage!" and the next second we were in full pursuit of trying to catch up to a duck or goose. Much to our surprise, we'd come fairly close to the bird before it would finally fly away (most likely to Florida as I'm sure we permanentely scarred many a bird that day). ;)

Fishing. Yes, we did fish on that day and we did catch something. Check out this beauty Taha caught:

That's right, baby! Seaweed guck!

That pretty much ended our trip. We got back home for maghrib, prayed, and then ate a nice home cooked meal. Taha, Ahmed, and my brothers continuously made fun of me in front of my mom and I'd have my fair share of getting back at them, too. We were going to watch Mission Impossible III but both STL guys were tired and headed back. So I thought...

15 minutes after leaving, Ahmed calls me and tells me that he's headed back because he refuses to leave Pleasantville/Plainville (they never quite get my hometown name right) unless we go watch MI:3. I was totally like, "Done and Done." So they came back and Ahmed runs up to my bedroom without warning. I thought to use my bathroom, but after a few minutes for waiting on him, Taha and I go upstairs to check to see if he was still alive. Lo and behold! There was Ahmed in my bed resting. Soon enough, after we wrestled him out of there, we concluded the evening by watching MI:3. It was a great day that these words do no justice of!

I'll let some more pics do the talking below. And most definitely go to http://video.google.com and in the search field type in the following: imran shakur fishing. You will not be disappointed folks!

Peace out, A-Town.

Fishing: The Final Frontier (Part Deux)

*** continued from previous post ***

Ahmed Hassan had nothing to say to my tirade. No response. Nothing but a sheepish and empty smile. He looked back down to the sidewalk in hopes of finding some sort of solace in the concrete pavement. It wasn't stupid for him to do that actually. For the callousness in my heart for him at that moment would make any man, woman, child, or living creature want to throw themselves into the abyss of a never-ending water well.

I forced myself to look away from his pitiful state and cast my gaze elsewhere. Taha was walking with the other defeated foe a few paces ahead of us. As if he knew that I was looking at him, he turned around and walked up to me and in a quiet whisper said, "Imran, I'll be there no matter what. Ahmed Hassan or no Ahmed Hassan. Rain or sunshine. Taking a train or stealing Hassan's ride. Halwa puri or no halwa puri."

The last statement, while making no sense whatsoever at the time, implied that Taha was serious about fishing. Dead serious.

I gave AH one last sneering look. "Thanks, T-Man. I know at least I can count on someone here." At that moment I decided not to let Hassan's dis affect me. It's not like this would be his first time. Besides, fishies had awaited me the next day...

***

"BAACHOO!!!" my mom yelled from downstairs on a bright and beautiful Saturday morning. "Vake up! Imran, get up and mow the lawn you fat cat!" Groan! Do I always have to wake up every weekend morning to hearing that?! She continued, "Chalo! Get up now, puthr-gee. Aghar nay ready hogaya dus minute kae undhar, thou phir dhaykna kya hotha hae tujko!" Uh oh. She threw in some Punjabi in that wake up call; my mom meant business. I shot out of bed and ran downstairs.

After mowing the lawn, I got the phone call from Taha. He was on his way to the train station. What a trooper! One of his closest friends [Ahmed] lives 2 minutes away from him and could at a minimum at least drop him off at the station, but was too friggen lazy to do even that. Kashmiris!

Okay. I realize that some of you reading this might be thinking by now that 1) Imran is a sensitive little girl or 2) Imran is a jerk. Well, you're wrong about that second one. Oh, and the first one, too. I'm a nice guy. My ripping on Ahmed Hassan pales into compairson on what he would to do me mentally later that Saturday afternoon. Read on...

Anyway, after speaking with Taha, he confirmed that he'd arrive at the train station around 1:30. His loyalty was not to go unrecognized. This time, for once, I'd make sure that I was going to pick him up on time...

So around 1:25 I was ready to go pick him up (yes, leaving around that time would in fact mean that I was going to be late again; some habits will never die out I'm afraid, Taha). But before leaving Taha sent me a text reading, "Train delay. About another 45min - 1 hr." Oh well, we still had access to the fishing resort until sunset. Plenty of time. I text back, "No worries. Cheers."

Meanwhile, back at the batcave, Mom was cooking up a storm. Saag and this special type of roti/paratha thingy that goes with it. I had to resist so I could wait and eat with Taha. This day was becoming more and more taxing. First the lawn mowing, then Taha's train delay, and now resisting taza kana!

So an hour passes and no word from Taha. He was to text me when he got closer to the Lisle train station. My mom told me to just start eating and that Taha can eat when he gets back or I could take him somewhere to eat out. Done and done. I sat down with the family at the breakfast table and began the feasting. 20 min into the food, I get a phone call. The caller ID read

Ahmed STL

So it's you? You're calling me up now, huh? I wasn't in the mood to pick up my cell. I wouldn't let some pathetic apology stop me from killing my now rolled up saag burrito. Nor was I to give him that satisfaction. I let the phone ring until for my voicemail to pick up. A few seconds later, however, the house phone rang. Hassan was persistent. Ali picked it up and after confirming it was AH, proceeded towards handing the phone to me. I tried to silently jump up and down on the table to let Ali know that I wasn't available (the table is still in tact). And in true brotherly fashion, Ali ignored my pleas and handed the phone to me.

"Hello?" I asked, playing innocent.

"Dude, so what's going on for today? Are we doin it or not?" Ahmed asked.

Are we doin it or not?! ARE WE DOIN IT OR NOT?!! Was he serious?! "Umm, yeah, dude. Taha is on his way, but since you're a sellout, he's coming by himself."

"Wait, Taha left already?"

"Uh, yes. Dude, you told me that you didn't want to come because you wanted to relax on your day off, doctor sahab."

Ahmed got annoyed, "Dude, I never said that. We never talked about it. You said you'd give me a call this morning. And, wait, why the hell would Taha leave on his own? What's up with that? He didn't tell me!"

I could tell that his tone was getting more and more serious. But I wasn't 100% sure. So I laughed it off and said, "Bro! First, I did send you a text message earlier today. But last night you kept telling me that you didn't want to come. What was I supposed to think? And as for Taha..."

"Is he pissed at me," Ahmed asked cutting me off. "What did he say?"

"Dude, relax, bro. What was he supposed to do if you weren't going to come?"

"Yeah, but for him not to even call me up. How shady is that? I mean, if you two wanted to go fishing yourselves, then you should have just told me!"

At this point, I headed upstairs so I wouldn't bother my family at the table. I got into my room and closed the door (saag burrito still in hand, of course). "Ahmed. What are you talking about, dude? Of course we wanted you there. But after last night, what were we supposed to do when you kept saying that you weren't in the mood to come out? I mean..."

Cut off again. "But that's just it! How could you not at least call and just say..."

"Bro, I sent the text message this morning and you didn't respond! And on top of that I talked to Taha earlier today and he told me that you two went out last night after hoops and you told him that you probably weren't going to come!"

"Dude, whatever! This is such crap. I never said that. I can't believe this." He sounded like he was either going to bust through my phone and ring my neck or bust out crying. I was actually starting to feel bad. Did he have a point?

No, he didn't. I reminded myself, This is Rico Suave himself. Like many a fine girl, I was not going to fall to this. Patiently, I responded, "Hassan. Look. Taha is stuck on the train. He won't get here for another 45 minutes. You can easily drive down here in that time and we'll all go together."

"No! That's not even the point. I mean, I could get ready and meet you guys there, but obviously you don't even want me to be there. I can't believe Taha. He must be pissed off at me for some reason. Did he say anything to you?"

You mean other than you're a flippin smelly little sellout? "No, man. Never. What are you talking about, bro? Trust me, he's definitely not pissed off. And we both wanted you to come. Why else do you think I was giving you such a hard time last night? The three of us had planned this together. Just come by."

Hassan sounded a little less tense. "Oh, I'll come. Just for the principle of it now. But I can't believe you guys would just go plan this without me! I can't believe Taha wouldn't just call me up before he left for the train station. And I just tried calling him and he didn't answer the phone. WTF? He has to be mad at me. Or you. Whatever. Anyway, how do you get to your place again?"

"Take 55. Exit off of Plainfield Rd and blah, blah, blah. But, dude, we don't want you to be upset when you're here. And I'm sure Taha just missed your call or maybe he just doesn't get any reception in the train." Frick! This guy was so upset and now the bachara bucha was going to drive all the way down despite this poor planning. I felt bad that we didn't do more. (Yes, reader, I inevitably gave into AH as you would have, too.)

"We'll see. It's just that I can't believe you especially would do this, Imran. Taha's pissed off, so, whatever. But you, Imran? Wait, so I take a left onto what street again to get to your place?"

"127th. And then you'll see the subdivision sign. Take another left. Bro, we seriously weren't trying to ignore you, man. Come on. You know I got mad love for you."

"Yeah, well whatever..." he said in an irate manner again. We had violated his trust. We somehow hurt him on the inside so badly he couldn't finish his sentence. I was worried if our friendship would ever be the same. If the three of us would be able to ever reach the heights of brotherhood like we once did only 24 hours ago.

"Bro, come on..." DIING DOONG!! It was the doorbell. "You can't be that mad. We still..." Wait a second! The doorbell? A light bulb just turned on. Didn't AH just ask me what street to...

I ran downstairs, phone still to my ear, "IF that's you, I'm gonna..."

Hassan started yelling, "What are you talking about! Dude? What the hell? You're just gonna yell at me now? What the..." But it was too late. I jumped over the last few steps and ran to the door and swung it open.

There in front of me was Rico Suave himself. Accompanying him was his indelible little grin that screamed, "Gotcha, fool." And in the background was Taha. I had just fallen to perhaps one of the world's oldest pranks of all time. The good old You-Don't-Think-I'm-Actually-Going-To-Miss-Out-On-This-Fishing-Trip-Adventure-Do-You? prank. Works everytime...

"YOU FRICKEN #$@#$&*@!!" I yelled while pushing and punching him at the same time. "You're such a punk, man! You should've just kept driving South to Saint Louis!"

Taha -- holding his stomach from all the laughter -- said, "I can't believe you actually fell for that! Especially while he was yelling at you and asking for directions, too!" There was much LOL-ing on their part. Rightfully, so, I guess. This was, afterall, the second time these guys did something like this to me. The first was around my birthday when the weather downtown was horrendous. There was a nasty blizzard that made a normal five minute drive into 45 minutes (no exaggeration). Regardless, Ahmed and Taha said that they'd come and take me out to Bandera, so I was to go meet them there directly. On the way there, Ahmed called me and told me that he got into a bad accident and, just like on this fishing prank, he sounded very serious and extremely upset (he has an Acura TL mashaAllah). The prank became more complex when he had expected me to pay for the damage since, as per his logic, he was coming out to see me. I'm not cheap, but I'm also not a baller so I had to be as political about it as possible. After getting off the phone with an infuriated Hassa, I quickly called up Taha about it and suggested that Hassan should first talk to his insurance, but even Taha was on his side, which made me believe the story even more (note to self: stop believing everything Taha tells you). Anyway, when I got off the phone with Taha I started heading into the restaurant. The next thing I see as I headed in was that same indelible little grin on Ahmed as he waited for me inside with Taha. They had been there the entire time. Naturally, an ensuing snowball fight had broken out after that.

Continuing...

After chillaxing around the house for an hour, we were finally on our way. Despite my repeated efforts in forcing Taha & AH to have some food at the crib, we ended up at the local Wendy's. Of course, they kept giving me a hard time about me finishing up that saag burrito in front of them (saag also happens to be Taha's favorite dish), but they didn't want my mom to make more food. So Taha and Ahmed instead enjoyed Wendy's dollar menu by pretty much ordering everything on it. I also allowed myself to indulge a refreshing Frosty.

About 15 minutes later, we arrived. Plainfield Fishing Resort. Destiny had finally greeted us.

*** to be continued ***

Fishing: The Final Frontier (Part 1)

Greetings

About four weeks ago, three brave young desi men embarked on a cataclysmically dangerous yet exciting expedition that would later prove to unravel their deepest secrets and inner most thoughts, all the while making them better human beings as they reached epic proportions of enligtenment. This adventure was none other than, yes, you guessed it, fishing. And fishing in my hometown, too, which isn't anything like your nice fishing get-away spot or some sort of exotic location in the middle-of-nowhere Wisconsin. Regardless, my town has a fairly decent fishing "resort" (as they like to call it) all but 10 minutes away from my crib.

What gave us the idea to go fish, you humbly ask. Why would three hot desi guys get in a boat to be alone with mother nature when we could easily be fishing instead for hot babes on, say, Michigan Avenue? These are valid questions and the answer deals directly with one concept: Brotherhood. Oh, make that two concepts: Brotherhood and We-Had-Nothing-Else-To-Do.

The idea for fishing was actually initiated by Taha. Or Ahmed. Really, I don't remember and if you ask either one of them, they'll tell you that it was himself. The important thing here is that the idea spawned on the now infamous "Night of Ahmed Hassan" nearly a couple months back. Before we had decided to go mini-golfing that night, we were brainstorming of things to do. Two ideas that came up was going at least once to an amusement park (specifically, Six Flags Great America) and the other was fishing together. I told the guys that I just so happen to recall seeing some sort of fishing club sign in my area and so they insisted that I find out the details. Weeks passed by with casual references to fishing. Taha would inquire, Yo niggah! You find out about that fishing club? Balle balle! (he's Punjabi, if you couldn't tell). And Ahmed would yell in an interrogating tone, Hey, Punjabi Slave! You better not forget that we're gonna go fishing sometime soon (he's Kashmiri, if you couldn't tell). Continuously, I would blow them off by saying, Oh ho, bhai sahib! I'm all over it! But secretly, I was thinking to myself that these clowns were all talk. I convinced myself that if I were to actually find out all the details about fishing, at the last second Dr. Ahmed Hassan would say, "I can't make it" and give me some excuse about saving lives (how pathetic, right?). Again, that's what my single friend Ahmed Hassan, MD would most likely tell me. To reiterate, "I can't make it" is probably what my single physician of a friend, Ahmed Hassan of Stl origin would probably say. (Don't ever tell me that I never looked out for you, AH!)

Well, time slowly passed away. And so on one night in particular, just a few nights before the momentous occasion, Ahmed and Taha (but especially Ahmed) kept callin me out sayin that I would never follow-up with the details of the fishing spot because I was a "sellout" and I really didn't want to hang out with them. Now, the latter part was and still is inherently true, but I seriously resented being called a sellout! I mean, as you very well know, if you look up the word "sellout" in the dictionary, you will inevitably see Taha Ghani's and Ahmed Hassan's pictures and say to yoursef, "Ahh, yes! I should've known." But I digress...

So after one day of constant harassment about the issue, I finally called up the resort and got the information. It was open to the public. 100+ acre lake. No advanced reservations were required. Open from 7am to sunset on a daily basis. 10 min from my house. And you could rent all supplies (boat, fish pole, bait). All this for a nominal fee of about $20; not bad if you ask me. We were all excited and ready to go for that Saturday.

Or were we?

The night before, Prince AH, Taha, myself, and one of Prince AH's boys (Vishnu?) played two-on-two basketball at Northwestern's downtown campus. It was Taha and myself versus Ahmed and his friend. Taha and I dominated in true Punjabi fashion. So much so that the Kashmiri was emotionally, physically, spiritually, and intellectually destroyed. This is no exaggeration by any means, folks. On the walk back this bachara bucha looked like he escaped the local insane asylum. He had no words; just an expressionless stoic demeanor that cried for pity. In trying to cheer him up, I reminded him that he would soon forget this onslaught on the court in a matter of hours. A calm, peaceful lake awaited him in my hometown where the only thing he would have to worry about is learning how to hook a fish instead of learning how to make a hook shot on the court. Hassan slowly looked up at me (his eyes were almost pasted to the ground after being humbled by my defensive presence that kept him away from the basket) and vociferated, "Oh Master! Have but some pity upon me! I am in need of rest and shelter tomorrow for thy lashings on the majestic court of King Taha and Lord Imran were severe and swift. Alas! My body and soul have indeed failed and I cannot be in thy noble company. The pain is far greater than a hundred kicks in the balls."

Upon hearing this, I looked at Hassan deep in his eyes and thought to myself, How can I be so tyrannical as to expect him to show up tomorrow in such a defeated state of being? Should I not show him some pity? But then again I didn't show him any pity that night on the court, so why start now? "Hell no, dude. After all the shizz you've been giving me about not calling up the fishing resort, you now wanna get out of it? Are you kidding me?! You're gonna punk out on me now? Just because you seemed like you were sitting on the court making chai instead of plays, you want to me cut you some slack?! After you reamed me time and time again about wanting to go fishing and making me feel bad for not looking up the fishing stuff? You now have the guts to say that you don't 'feel' like going? WTF???!!!"

*** To be Continued ***

Coming soon...

Hi

Dear Fans,

My deepest apologies for not keeping you updated on the latest of lates. But have no fear, I'll soon put up some postings on here soon.

Keep the faith, my children. God's Speed.

Cheers

Islamic Art - Haji Noor Deen Mi Guangjiang

Hello

If you're in the market to buy beautiful Islamic art and specifically calligraphy, I strongly urge you to check our Haji Noor ud Deen's website:

www.hajinoordeen.com


It's "tightness" re-defined.


word

Planet Dubai

Hi

We all know that Dubai is in a world of its own. The touristy and architecture wonders being built there never cease to amaze. Just check this link out as a prime example (this isn't necessarily a new link for some of you, but still cool to see):

http://images.businessweek.com/ss/06/03/dubai/index_01.htm

I'd love for the opportunity to experience life in Dubai. Just to be in an environment that's accepting of Western culture, but also has its fair share of desi and more importantly Muslim influences would be phenomenal. I mean, you could walk around comfortably in a thobe without worrying what people would think. Not to say that I wear thobes too often, but the idea of being 200% comfortable with your Muslim identity is very appealing. That coupled with the experience of gaining a more worldly knowledge base or perspective is simply invaluable.

Cheers

The Sufis

As Salaamu Alaikoom wa Rahmatullahi wa Barakatahu

Unlike Da Vinci's drawings, it's no hidden secret that sufism is widely unaccepted in Saudi Arabia, at least largely at the political level (just kidding about The Da Vinci Code reference). The Wahhabi influence out there is very strong, but it seems as though 'the people' of Saudi and slowly the government itself are beginning to realize the beauty of tasawwuf/sufism.

I think people that write off sufism as a sort of cult, deviant sect within Islam, or bidah (an innovation) are typically individuals who have not really studied up on it or fear it as being a force that divides the ummah up (i.e., creating sects within the deen). But this is not the case, I feel. Of course, in matters of the deen, my opinion is worth less than a grain of sand in the Sahara Desert, so don't take my word as scholarly! I would argue, however, that I do base many of my ideas -- especially on sufism -- on traditional, sound scholarship (inshaAllah).

Moving on, the individuals that I've gotten into conversations with that are anti-sufism will typically say, "Where does the Quran mention sufism?" or "Why didn't the Prophet (sw) talk about sufism?" or "Where was the term 'sufism' in the time of Prophet (sw)?" etc. You can see what they're getting at. To this, all I can say is that I'm convinced by the arguments of the sufi shayukh and their sound logic in answering such questions. Again, that whole not-being-a-scholar thing prevents me from providing answers, so I will not delve into the subject here. I would recommend, however, to those seeking an answer to listen to "real" sufi shaykhs like Shaykh Nuh Ha Mim Keller for starters. And for you desis out there, as one teacher jokingly yet accurately phrased it, I just don't get how people from the subcontinent refuse sufism considering that it was through the sufis that Islam swept across India...

It's amazing, mashaAllah: Years ago when I first heard about the idea of sufism through my brother Umar, it came from recorded tapes he was listening to from Shaykh Nuh. Listening to things like, if you take bayah (an allegiance; which is actually something that the Sahaba [rh] all did with the Prophet [sw]) with a shaykh, it's like riding a train to paradise or the right path because of your 'connection' to him and the connection he has to his shaykh and his shaykh's shaykh and so on until you reach the Hazoor (sw). I was like, Whoa! I want that! And so I started to become more and more interested in sufism at that point. I put together that the Naqshabandis are one tariqa (path; or a path to Allah) within sufism and was content to hear about this considering some familial connections with sound Naqshabandis, mashaAllah.

But later, my views on sufism became distorted. Questions like, What exactly is the basis for sufism? Why can't we all just say we're Muslims? etc. would re-surface. Privately, I found myself at times rejecting sufism all together. I still believed in spirituality greatly, but thought that taking bayah with just one shaykh and one path was not a critical element in gaining higher levels of iman (faith). More specifically, I thought that bayah was very limiting in one's quest for knowledge and ways of reaching closeness to Allah'ta'ala. But then I thought that to understand it more I should at least try to reach some sort of conclusion; because while a part of me was beginning to logically deny sufism, there was an undeniable part of my heart that accepted it without hesitation.

Flip flopping between, Sufism is amazing! and Sufism is bidah or makes no sense! caused a good deal of inner spiritual turmoil. To ease my heart, I was guided to the tariqa tapes of Shaykh Nuh (May Allah protect him. Allah huma salay Allah Muhammad. Ameen.). Miraculously, every single question (and I truly mean every single tiny doubt or question) that I had regarding sufism was answered in his tapes. SubhanAllah. Sure, there were times where upon hearing some things I was like, Huh? What? Where? Why? But then each time my heart essentially told me to be patient and listen to the message. Soon enough, I was back on the track of accepting sufism. I started to think to myself, Should I take bayah with Shaykh Nuh and be in the company of Shadhilis? Should I continue a family 'tradition' and take bayah with Shaykh Husain Sattar and follow the ways of the Naqshabandis? Or should I follow the way of the Akbari tariqa and adhere to the guidance of the shaykh of shaykhs (I purposely leave his name out for personal reasons). So around this time, the opportunity came to become a student of the latter shaykh. The opportunity came suddenly and almost urgently (I remember a phone call from my brother saying, "Dude, you know all the sufi stuff we talk about? Well, we can actually start it if we go tonight to such-and-such place where so-and-so will be talking about it, but you have to come tonight, man!") I was on my way from work on a late Friday evening. Immediately, I was excited and equally confused. To mysef I was like, I don't really know much about this shaykh and I'm really 'into' the other two shaykhs mentioned earlier. Regardless, I went to the class. During those intial classes, however, I still was listening to the Sh. Nuh tapes. I still was interested in Sh Husain Sattar. I even remember consulting Shaykh Husain and Mufti Abdurrahman ibn Yusuf about tasawwuf and I was soon returning to my thoughts of, Why can't I just follow all these ways? What's the harm in doing multiple forms of dhikr?

But the explanations of these travellers, teachers, and seekers of knowledge prevailed, mashaAllah. It's difficult for a loser like me to really explain the logic, but rest assured that it's there. SubhanAllah, both the logic and heart of sufism drive the spirituality of this deen. For you doubters out there, I just explained how I was very much like you, but through duas and pleas to Allah and the hikmah (wisdom) of our teachers, I soon began to appreciate sufism on a wholistic level. What really did it for me, though, was the adab and mannerisms of my shaykh. I know on certain points in this posting I've been decidedly vague and to no exception, I'll be even more so on this point, too. But you can't put into words the ways of your own shaykh. Mureeds (students) of Shaykh Nuh feel the same way about Shaykh Nuh. As I'm sure Shaykh Husain's (or his teacher, Shaykh Zulfiqar Ahmad) students feel about them.

You see them smile and you're convinced that it's a smile that is in conjunction with and in the spirit of the Sunnah. You feel closeness not to just the shaykh, but to Allah. Does that make sense? If not, I urge you to read books on sufism by 'validated' and true sufis. To attend their gatherings or listen to their tapes/cd's. To ask Allah for guidance and an open heart.

If you're listening to a shaykh that exclusively focuses on 'miracles' and amazing feats of sufis of the past, then you may not be in the right company. If you find a 'hippie' sufi that insists that you just need to be spiritual and then disregards the importance of fiqh and other like things, then you probably haven't followed a real sufi. Sufism is a spiritual means of seeking closeness to Allah and His Messenger (sw). It is to follow a path where the only aim is Allah. A path that follows the Quran and Sunnah. "As for those who strive in Us, surely We will guide them to Our paths; And verily Allah is with those who excel" (Quran 29:69).

Going back to the issue of sufism and Saudi Arabia (which was actually the primary reason for my posting!), I thought I would share a very intriguing article that was forwarded to me and taken from The Washington Post: In Saudi Arabia, a Resurgence of Sufism. Seriously, do read it as it's not a long read.

Well, in the end of your own journey, you may very well find out that sufism, while intrinsically beautiful, is not intrinsically necessary. And while I would say that sufism is the closest thing we have to what Islam was back in the day (I just paraphrased that from a teacher), I wouldn't think that you're in the wrong. Many good people out there do not completely subscribe to sufism and in my opinion, that's okay. But if your hearts have ever cried out to you or your soul ever yearn for something "more," then don't ignore it either.

May Allah grant us all guidance and His Forgiveness. Allah huma salay Allah Muhammad. Ameen.

Dear Taha

Salaam

Sorry, ladies (and to some of you men out there, too). I'm afraid the rumors out there are in fact true. Taha Ghani is now Mr. Taha Yusuf. In other words, he's engaged to a very fortunate person named Sana Yusuf.

While I'm typically one who gets all "girly" about this type of thing, I think that in fairness to T-Man I should tell him how I actually feel. So I thought I would share this impending letter that I'm writing to him:

Dear Taha,

'F' you, dude. Yeah, that's right. I said it. 'F' YOU! Who the frick do you think you are to up and get engaged on a niggah? Who gave you the right to take your life to the next natural, expected, and about-fricken-time step? AND without seeking prior written approval from me (hey look, dude, verbal approval just doesn't cut it these days)? What exactly can Sana offer you that I can't? Well, you fricken sellout, let me break some things down for you before you close the book on me and everything that is good:

This is what a girl (i.e., Sana) offers you:

1. Physical companionship. (Note to reader: Is it bad that I list physical companionship as the first thing?)
2. Mental companionship.
3. Laughter.
4. Additional financial resources.

Like I can't provide you any of that? LIKE I HAVEN'T BEEN DOING THAT FOR YEARS, YOU JERK?! Nearly a decade of endless bliss and you wanna throw it out because of the above mentioned and relatively insignificant points? Frick that, man.

This is what I can (and still am willing, by the way) to offer you:

1. You need physical companionship, huh? I mean, was it not just two weekends ago that you were in MY bedroom in MY bed with Ahmed Hassan and me? How special was that?* And don't tell me that the McCabe years all of a sudden is forgotten? How many times as college roommates, did you look across to my bed, which was no more than two feet away, and just either jump in or stare at me? Dude, when you have friendship like that, you no longer are in need of physical comforts. You have spirituality. (Take that, Sana!!)

*Note: We're not gay. Just passionate.

2. Emotional companionship. Niggah please! 'F' that emotional crap. We're Punjabis. All we need in life is Daler Mehndi and food. I mean, we both mashaAllah have mothers that cook, yo! Done and done.

3. Laughter? You want a girl that makes you laugh? Sana gives you laughter? What the hell am I doing then when I take my shirt off and reveal buddha? Do you think you can seriously laugh much more than when you see me without a shirt? (Wait a second...that isn't funny.) Okay, so how about my hysterically awesome Google Videos? Where are Sana's, I ask? Uh huh. That's what I thought. How about driving down Michigan Ave with the Prince listening to MJ, hollerin at the females (Sana: That's ME hollering at the females, NOT Taha!), and scaring the rich white folks? How classic is that?

4. Money? You want more money, you greedy son of a Rajpoothi? Making my salary in just a few weeks isn't enough (mashaAllah and inshaAllah) for you? You have to marry an Oakbrook baller that has a house the size of a city block (mashAllah)? The daughter of the owner of the Halal KFC? ...

Hmm. You're onto something there, aren't you? Damn. Hey, now that I think of it, does she have a sister...?

With love, Imran

;)