  January 1,  2002 Wow.  I'll be 22 this year ( and I just turned 21 yesterday.  Gotta love that new years eve bday.  I didnt have a party.
 too many people were out of town,  and out of a favor to my mom,  I thought I'd make it a family night.  So,  my family and I went out to eat at Bravo!  and afterwards watched Shrek on teh bigscreen at home.
 To welcome teh new year,  i found Jupiter and Saturn in the sky overhead outside in my front yard.  The ball was just too much hype for me.  I love new york,  but seriuosly,  theres planets in the sky that are not always visible.
 versus a bunch of lightbulbs?  Please.  such an easy decision!  it was also really cool to be outside just after midnight,  instead of by the TV.  you could hear the screaming in everyones houses,
 and the noisemakers and fireworks and stuff. what a celebration!  Why sit on the couch at home?  For my birthday,  I had a piece of tiramisu with one candle in it.  No one felt like buying or making a cake,
 and I dont even like cake all that much,  so piya arranged to get me tiramisu at Bravo!  and my family gave me a hopeless rendition of happy birthday at the dinner table.  hey,  at least I got Calamari fritti earlier on.  YUM!
 ANYWAZ.  So many thoughts I have been meaning to jot down.  I got back into my journal- ing.  It has definitely been a missing love in my life.  I hope to write a lot before I go back to school:
 poetry,  fiction,  inspiration,  whatever I can get my mind to churn out.  There were some initial plans to possibly go to NYC this week,  but I don't know if that's working out or not.
 So I was thinking about something recently,  it's a helpless and haughty thought I assure you,  but I will share.  " A twist of fate and I would have been raised on the rice paddies of a Bengal village.  Actually,
 that would be kind of beautiful I think?  I've seen the village,  and its so serene and innocent!  At least it was in 1989,  yes its true,  I have neglected the homeland for over 12 years now.
 I really haven't had much say in the decision making process.  Three years ago I wanted to go back to visit,  after I graduated.  It didn't happen due to family issues.  Since then my own dream has been to go make umrah with my family and go to Bangladesh for a month or so.  Problem is,
 the political condition of Bangladesh is awful.  Hartal ( strikes,  which often become very violent)  are all over the country.  roads,
 even cities,  are closed for them.  Mafia- style crime is rampant as well,  in addition extreme Islam is rising.  At this point,
 it is literally life- threatening for a woman to travel the streets alone.  And yet,  I look back to racing my 4 yr old brother to the nearest vendor to buy a Fanta and some " chanachur"  with the allowance my grandfather gave us (
when I was 6)  I never did take the time to know my grandfather on my dads side ( Dadu)  very well,  I was too young to understand,  but I do remember how much he loved us.
 He cherished me particularly because I was his first grandchild.  Wrote me a song for my aqiqah,  which was held belated in Bangladesh ( perhaps so my dadu could attend)  that all my relatives sang to me.  My most precious memory though is a simple letter.
 My dadu wrote me a letter at the end of January 1991 ( I was 10)  He asked me why I hadn't written to him,  how he was getting old and would be leaving the world soon,  that the sound of my voice ( specifically,
 when I spoke English)  was like music to his ears,  that grandchildren and grandparents historically are best friends,  but I hadn't kept up my end of the deal.  Within three weeks,  he died of a stroke,
 inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi rajiun.  It was my grandfather's last letter.  :  Looking back,  I don't know if there was anything else I could do to heal.  My dad was stationed away from home during the Gulf war (
Army medical reserve)  I missed him so much,  and I was helping my mom with the " new baby"  ( Piya)
 and my two younger sibs.  At school,  my teacher would take extra time with me to talk about the war going on,  how I felt,  I would write letters to Saratoga soldiers ( the Saratoga was the ship that sank a couple of years later)
 with my class,  because my teacher's son was on it too,  I still have all the pictures of soldiers and American flags and peace signs that I would sit and draw with my brother ( and then ask my mom to choose which was " best"  of course,
 we both were. P)  I regretfully think,  because my Dadu had passed away far from home,  and I hadn't been there to see it,  and my dad was also away from home,
 and I wasn't seeing his pain,  I moved away from the sad news terribly quickly.  For a 10 yr old,  perhaps that was best,  the Qadr of Allah ( Destiny from God)
 Once,  about 2 years ago,  when I was very sick,  I saw Dadu in a dream,  with my boro chacha ( who was killed in the 1971 war)
 and they were telling me some beautiful comforting things.  The words themselves,  I don't remember specifically.  But still,  I'll treasure that too.  I do hope to see them again One Day.
 Oh yes,  Bangladesh,  when I arrived there at age 6 with my parents and brother ( sister number one was still in Mom's tummy)  we got off the plane,  walked down the stairs (
there was no walkway)  and were immediately surrounded by a crowd of people,  the beggars.  " Paisa den bhai.  (
please give some coins)  My brother and I were frightened at the grabbing hands,  the thinness,  the shouting and pushing.  My dad pulled out his change,  American coins because he had not yet exchanged it for Bengali currency.
 One woman picked up a dime,  and then put it down in preference for a penny,  which was larger and a different color?  by that point we understood what was happening and my brother and I tried to yell at her to come back " Hey,  that's just a penny!
 Take a dime!  But she didn't know English,  and our Bengali,  well.  it sucked at that point.  I don't think I will ever forget that scene.
 Another scene I will never forget,  and perhaps this is a subconscious root to my feminaziness,  was at the mosque.  In Bangladesh,  women typically don't attend the mosque,  or if they do,
 they go after the men have prayed and left.  I remember looking down from my dadu's balcony and seeing the men flocking to the mosque next door after adhan ( how I MISS that!  It echoed through the sky,  I thought the whole world could hear it!  and then 20 minutes later,
 a much smaller flock of women in their salwar kameez and dupatta.  Since my mom did not have a habit of attending the mosque ( when she was young she was taught that women didn't have to go,  so she only goes on Eid)  my dad took me with him during the men's time.  Bear in mind,
 I was a 6 yr old.  You know how 6 yr olds come:  short,  cute,  often disproportionately lanky?  So there I was 6 yr old me.
 still innocent and little,  going with Daddy to the mosque.  It was very very hot,  so I was wearing shorts and a t- shirt.  As I sat with my dad after salat,
 and he did something else next to me ( sunnah perhaps?  my memory is fuzzy on this point)  I was looking around the room.  An old man in front of me,  with a long beard,
 turned around and sneered at me!  He stuck out his tongue and kinda gave me an evil stare,  I looked at my dad but he was still praying.  I looked back at the man,  and he looked at my legs and did the evil sneer face thing again.  I seriously think he was condemning that I wore shorts to the mosque.
 I was 6!  Anyway,  that was my first experience with intolerance and modesty- patrol ( which I will explain later)  Thus,
 this has been a bit of my past geneology.  It has its sadness,  but it as human as any other.  I do not wish to end here.  I still have more to share.  Modesty-
patrol is what I have come to call the people who have nothing better to do during salat ( prayer)  but make sure that everyone else is covered and non- nailpolished.  For example,  some woman at the mosque I attend is a modesty-
patrolwoman.  More than once,  it has happened that during sujud,  my hijab slips to the side,  so a bit of hair peeps out the bottom.  This woman literally starts tugging at my hijab while I am praying to fix it.
 I understnd that perhaps she is trying to save me from jahannam,  which is why I don't' confront her or complain in public ( except on the internet,  and only anonymously!  But really,  have you ever had someone PULLING ON YOUR HEAD while you were trying ot concentrate on prayer to your Lord?
 It's a little unnerving.  More so because we are in the sisters section,  where not a male in the universe is allowed to set foot,  and there is no one but other women there anyway.  Other modesty- patrol people scan toes during Ruku.
 I've seen it out the corner of my eye.  some woman is glaring at my toes?  oops.  Sorry ma'am .  I had no nailpolish remover left for today,  astaghfirAllah (
May God forgive me)  " Allah looks not at your bodies or your forms,  but at your hearts and your deeds.  We can all learn from this.  Modesty Patrol people can relax.
 Accidents happen,  mistakes happen.  We are human.  Let us pray!  I guess I shouldn't be soo overtly cynical.  Perhaps they are better than I am and perhaps their intentions to help their sister are more pure than my negligence.
 Another example of modesty- patrol that I find more humorous than anything else occurred when tamina was alive.  We walked into the brothers section of the mosque to advertise for IAW ( because we didn't have any brothers volunteer,  besides,  who cares,
 we were covered head to toe like we were supposed to be. so we walk in.  the room fell silent,  all 30+  of the men were in awe.  (
how dare they!  some small conversations continued.  we started to hang up the flyers,  not saying a word to anyone.  but the room was still uncomfortably quiet,  and some brothers left?
 I felt like a harlot.  Scarlet Letter anyone?  Some random brothers came up to us and very courteously told us the directions to get to the " sisters section"  ( salam sister,
 the other sisters are down that hallway)  if I wasn't polite,  I would have told him,  " yes brother we know.  we just came OUT of there.
 but instead I just kept my mouth shut and let tamina explain our MSA publicizing purposes.  Eventually we got to speak with one of the higher- ups who didn't mind having us there.  I have to ask,  " sisters rooms"
 ( with the TV broadcast of the imam's pulpit)  could not possibly exist prior to 50 years ago.  So how is this sunnah?  Such thoughts and memories scramble through my mind at times.  but so much else too!
 Latest procrastination tactic:  finding englsih translations to my favorite hindi songs.  There is so much beauty in their meanings that I was unaware of before!  I found a " me"  song too!
 " Mein Albeli"  from the movie Zubeidaa,  always had a special ring to it and I love listening to the song.  The dance too,  is really cute.
 The lyrics though,  bear an uncanny resemblance to me.  Check it out.  :  I am lovely,  I wander alone,
 I am an enigma.  The mad winds may take me anywhere I am a friend of these winds I am a deer in the forest,  a bud in the flower garden Sometimes I am dew;  sometimes I am a flame Mine,  the hundred shades of dawn and dusk In the end,  even I do not know exactly what I am (
You are lovely,  you wander alone,  an enigma,  an enigma.  Such is my share of troubles:  No matter where I go,
 my heart worries God knows where my restlessness might take me I'm here one moment,  there the next.  ( You are crazy,  you are capricious)  (
You've been raised in a world of dreams)  In the end,  even I do not know exactly what I am ( O,  you are lovely.  I am the traveler without a destination I am that longing which knows no object I am the wave that has no shore My heart is fragile.
 My heart is not made of stone ( You are ignorant,  you are insane)  ( You've come to a world of stone with a heart of glass)  (
You are lovely,  you wander alone,  you're an enigma)  ( The mad winds may take you anywhere)  (
You are a friend of these winds)  ~ A. R.  Rahman's " Mein Albeli"
 from the movie _Zubeidaa_ For more hindi song lyrics in english,  check out Bollywatch. com.  I was thinking about these lyrics a lot.  A sole wandering enigma,  carrying a heart of glass in a world of stone.
 That's me.  I'm not sayign I'm upset,  no shattering glass here.  In fact,  its the opposite.  There is a certain freedom and peace in being a wanderer.
 I have been blessed in my journey to have encountered such peace as much of the world bears only as a pipe dream.  But that is the essence of peace,  at least in my current philosophical moment.  a glass heart in a world of stone.  is peace.  Its beautiful,
 fragile,  and its clarity is such that some can't even see its presence.  Latest favorite movie:  Lord of teh rings all the way.  Its ridiculous how some peopel find hte " ending was stupid.
 My gosh.  My favorite character was Aragorn.  he's so cute,  a valiant prince ( big girly sigh,  lutfi-
style)  Ok,  really,  my favorite character was Gandalv.  So wise and good.  "
I wish I had never been given teh ring.  I wish none of thsi had happened.  " Dear Frodo,  waht has happend has happened.  it is what you will do with what has happened in the time you have left that will matter.
 Another favorite line that echoes in my mind simply because Cate Blanchett said it sooo well.  " Aha. I have passed the test.  Now I shall go off.  into the East.
 and forever remain.  Geladriel.  Also,  I love when the Dwarf says " NOBODY TOSSES A DWARF!  finally,
 " Even the smallest of creatures can change the course of the universe"  ( geladriel again)  Oh yes,  and Legalos has amazign hair.
 I maen,  it woudl be more amazing if he wa s girl,  cuz he looks awfully girlish with that hairstyle.  but its so shiny and long.  I mean,  and this is unanimous between my sisters and I,
 but he had the best long hair in the whole movie,  even better than Liv and Cate's!  Man,  the irony,  eh?  If you havent' seen this flick yet,
 you definitely*  should ( and you should definitely invite me because I will definitely go with you.  I cant pass this one up!  " inshAllah"
 to all of the above)  LOTR is an excellent movie,  perhaps the best I have seen in a very very long time.  i watched LOTR in Nashville when I went during Christmas weekend to visit my relatives.  Pics are up on my old site.  Go to the homepage to get the link.
 It is always a great experience getting together with my mom's side of the family.  We are way artsy on that side.  Song,  dance,  music,  abounds.
 We have three professional musicians on that side of the family.  And of course,  I'm a dancer like my mommy.  :  In fact,  my sister and i held a dance show when we were there,
 for all the ladies.  They taped out craziness.  We came up with a really dirty dance for " No.  1 panjabi.  I mean,
 its not dirty dirty,  its just really modern,  kinda hip hop,  more than I'm used to ever doing in public. it threw our " older audience"
 for a loop.  ; P I refuse to repeat that dance for any male I'm not married to!  ( HAHA,  I'm posting this later,
 and I have DEFINITELY danced dirtier for many men I have no intention of marrying.  Just an aside.  I'll butt out of my old post now)  Aside from that,  we did some cute ones to " bumbro,
 a hilarious rendition of " chori chori chupke chupke"  ( think.  what else do people do " on the sly and surreptitiously?
 " mehndi,  " humko humise"  was a flop,  as was "
pairon mein bandhan hain,  but " nimbooda"  was ok ( got cut off on the tape)  My rendition of "
Radha kaise na jale"  was really good,  according to the feedback i got from my mom,  but we didnt get it on tape.  oops.  Quick!
 Shoma's favorite hindi movies!  Lajja,  Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam,  Lagaan,  Kuch Kuch Hota Hai,  Taal,
 Chori Chori Chupke Chupke OK,  I think I'm drained of thoughts for the moment,  or perhaps I'm making excuses because I'm sick of typing.  As soon as my computer learns to dictate,  you'll get much more out of me.  :
P Later on,  I'll try and write about the following things that will take more time than I currently have available. Rookie/ Sanjida conversations on gender relations and modesty in Islam.  Lutfi/ Shoma conversations on the "
predictable downward spiral of Shoma's interest in her crushes"  ( at least he says so. Dadima/ Bitiyarani conversations on the meaning of life,  the method of living life,
 and other way too deep issues. and of course,  more on shoma's fave hindi flicks In closing,  here is a beautiful lullaby from the song Mission Kashmir?  it is " So ja chanda"
 ( sleep,  lovely moonlight child.  Shoma means moon,  my birthday was on Monday,  and I found this song on my birthday.
 InshAllah,  whenever I have someone to sing to sleep.  ( another big girly sigh)  Sleep,  my lovely moonchild;
 sleep,  my prince.  Come to the world of dreams;  come.  The sleep- fairies are here wearing anklets on their feet.
