Eid 2018

So today is Eid. A lovely festival of happiness joy and so much excitement.

And here is what I made today.

The first picture is of SheerKhorma. A sweet dish made of milk, dried fruits, dates and vermicilli.

The second picture is of the ethnic Hyderabadi Meat Biryani accompanied by curd chutney.

It took years for me to master the biryani. Crisp criticism from my inlaws perfected the flavours and texture.

The sheerkhorma was my first trial today. Turned out yummy except that I fried the dried fruits a little browner than I should.

It was an amazing day today altogether. Spending time with my husband and kids elates me to the core. It wipes away everything and I start fresh.

I did some henne/mehendi on my hand too.

Oops. Looks like I deleted the pictures. I shall take better pictures of my henna as it darkens.



I finally cut my daughter’s nails. After almost 3 years, she finally stopped chewing them. They finally grew and I could cut them.

It might seem so bane a though to be troubled by the little act of cutting nails.

But to me, a mother, it is a huge feat. When she was about one year and some months, I cut her nails (like I did every Friday since she was born) the night before I was admitted to deliver my son.

The next day I promptly left. She was shattered by my absence. I do not know what all my baby daughter felt and endured. But after 7 days, when she finally came back to me as I went home, she was constantly crying, a very rage filled child with so much stubborness, and she began eating her nails. Strangely, the nails of her feet stopped growing too. This remained all the while we were back in India.

Since we have come here, and she has begun school, she is back to being a calm, excited and a much more happy child.

My motherhood scored a whole point when I saw her nails growing neatly and I could finally cut them. Thank you Lord. Thank you for these favours upon me.

Passing the time in pixels.

I saw my little sister doing this. It intrigued me to no ends. I did not get the time till this week to actually download the app.

Introducing colouring by pixel. So what we do is we are given a picture, we zoom in on it, and the picture is pixelised to alphabet and numbers that correspond to the colour palette required for the photo.

And we colour accordingly.

Helped me pass my time. Gave me the satisfaction of putting things in proper place ( a slight sense of ocd). Calmed me down among the chaos my kids and husband create. My thoughts somehow stop running in my head and all I am doing is digitally colouring.

I shall find an adult colouring book and grab some markers and begin colouring. I love that peace it gives.

Just among these lines, once upon a time I was a budding artist. I loved colour pencils and and I used to sit down and draw and colour lots and lots of pictures. I received a lot of appreciation for that at school. But my parents thought colouring was a childish hobby for a teenager and they often ridiculed me for it. And then my sister started doing the same and somehow I let go of colouring amd drawing. At one point I told her I let it so that she could excel in it. And man, has she excelled! My sister is an artist with a Pro level. She is this really amazing talented artist eho works both physical art and digital art. I hope someday she becomes famous for her work. It broke me to see she couldn’t pursue it as a career but she hasn’t backed down.

So I let go of it all. Once in a while, the artist in my yearns to do drawing and colouring once again. Maybe I might begin soon. I must.

When it rains…

Do you know what happens when it rains?

When the heavens pour forth their tears, they embrace the earth. They let go of the heaviness.

And on earth? The water seeps through the tiny passages and entrails every path it finds. It runs down lanes like water gushing through the hair during a shower.

The rain touches the roots of plants on its way, it entangles into the soil and lets out an enchanting odour. An odour so earthly, that can’t be found in any perfume on earth.

I used to be a poet. Somewhere down the lane, lack of recognition strangled my passion into a dead skeleton.

But each time I watch the rain, the poet in me arises. Poetry, romance, love, rainfall, beaches, cars and books…ahhh my weakness.

Each leaf dances in the rain. The flowers bend like dainty dolls.

My heart yearns to run out into the rain. To get wet. To let the water enter my body, my soul. My heart yearns to let the scent of rain smother my being.

But I get held back. By nobody. But my own fears. Fear of falling sick. Who will run the home and take care of kids if I fall sick? Maybe someday I may run into the rain and jump with joy and get wet thoroughly to my hearts content.

Till then, I shall hide in the shade, and long for the free run. Into the rain I so love……


Life is short. Everyone says that. I mean, I read that everywhere where people say it.

But is it really short?

I am not saying I get tired by keeping on walking.

Moving ahead has been a really blessed process for me.

Maybe it looked blessed for me because I accept what comes my way, picked it up and walked along with it without turning back. I didn’t sit and find time to pick regret about my decisions or my fate.

I didn’t want some of the things that came my way. I wanted to do something else, something else happened. Many times. I let go of all that.

And when I walked miles ahead, everything faded into blessings. The old regrets buried themselves. I even learnt to stop regretting. I forced my whole being to moving ahead without turning head even once.

I have a lot to do in my life. I don’t know how long I have to live. But it definitely doesn’t look like a short time.

The only thing weighing me down, holding me back and slowing me immensely are the people I am walking along with.

I can’t let go because that is something I wouldn’t dream of doing. Why do they see sidewalks and shortcuts in dark lanes.

Why can’t they see the darkness they are heading towards. Why can’t they see that they are dragging me along but I have got a straight path to go. We may shear at the joints. Why don’t they see that?

Why don’t they see that we started together to head to the same way. Now why is that way invisible to them?

Just because I have more responsibilities weighing down on me, I can’t run as fast as them. And I don’t even want to catch up with them because their way is dark, wrong and mainly it is just single laned.

Why can’t they see they are drifting away? How come what I feel about them does no longer matter.

I come to these crossroads often in my life. Each time, these pull me apart and shred me to pieces. I have kept picking them up, dragging along them with me. To be whole again and walk straight.

But with each crossroad, my strength to drag others along has begin to fade. Picking myself up seems easier. Walking alone seems to be easier. This way such crossroads won’t even come in my path.

But I know life well enough. It always gives me something by taking away something else from me.

So if I am to shed my load, life will surely give me something else to be sorrowful about. Life will hurt me with something else. It always has. I don’t trust life. At all.

Will the next hurdle be bearable? Nothing has been bearable till now. I can’t get around to ignore either.

You know what breaks me the most. I left the whole world for this one person whom I made my whole world. Now as I am watching them drift in and out of my life, I realise I am the most loneliest person on this planet. Other than my blog there isn’t one place or person I can talk to about my issues or my life or my happiness or my sadness in this over populated billion peopled world. Not. A. Single. Soul.

I keep crossing off days from my calender. Hoping, like I always have, to make myself busy, to lose myself in things I like to do, so these crossroads seem a little easier to cross. A little less hurtful. Like anesthesia. You are numb during the breakdown. When things patch up all the pain hits back. Just my mind screaming to me, it would have been worse if not for the anesthesia.

So for now, I will hold their hand tigher. Till I find either them coming back to the path or me finding my anesthesia. And then… I let go….without a care in the world. I shall let go.

I know in my heart with all my soul that I gave, give and will give my 100% always. I bow down in places where I shouldn’t, just to step on my ego and keep my life intact. All it takes is one stubborn word to blow up everything in my life like using Tnt. Just stubborn words. Thats all it takes to pull apart everything. Maybe, just maybe, when I find my anesthesia, I might let everything blow up…and maybe it would be for my own good… and just maybe it wouldn’t hurt me more or I regret.

Love. I have begun to hate this word. Love. Its because of this just one word where everything went haywire. I feel like I am in a car on speed that lost the brakes system, I am just steering it along trying to keep it in control, with my hands slipping. If I want I can hold on longer. If I want… I can let go….Life doesn’t crash when we want it to. It does when we least want it to.

God give me strength….

Four Years Later…

Yeah. It has been that long.

My favourite month of the year is Ramadan. I literally feel completely blanketed in the mercy, warmth and blessings of my Lord.

The best part among others about this month used to be going to the ladies section of the mosque to perform special prayers called as Taraweeh. The best part of Taraweeh being the dua (supplication) at the end of it.

That was only in KSA. For 22 years I had a favourite mosque and many favourite Imams due to their exemplery Qiraats.

I felt so blessed. It is an extraordinary connection with God that only a mosque can offer. It’s like a pure place. A part of heaven. And what a privilege.

I dont have the clicks in my camera , but these two are my most favourite:

King Fahad Grand Mosque. Al khobar.

My most Favourite: Masjid Abdul Rahman bin Auf. Al khobar.

Books transport people to another world. At least I get transported.

But to another world where things happen.

In the mosque, I find a piece of heaven. My heaven. A place where you leave behind all relations, responsibilities, social chains. Only to be lost in the serenic soothing verses and wishing time stops.

When I left KSA on exit and moved to India. My this piece of heaven vanished. In India it’s looked down upon for women to go to mosques to pray. I agree too because of the fashion show some of us put up going to the mosque and totally ruining the purpose also without proper Hijab.

My first Ramadan after marriage was in KSA. My Second Ramadan, I wept my heart out on the prayer mat at my home in India for being so far away from Heaven.

The third Ramadan I went back to KSA on a visit to my parents home. I was an expectant mother at that time. I would sit on a chair and pray but I went. I ran to the mosque. My heaven.

Air conditioned, beautifully scented, amazingly structured and furnished, calm lighting. These things held my heart.

When I went back to India for good. I once again lost my opportunity to pray in the mosque.

Ramadan 4, 5 and 6. I spent on my prayer mat at home. Yearning for the touch of the carpet of a mosque on my forehead.

Khuda ke paas deyr hai..

Andeyr nahi…

A wise saying that says there is delay in the answering of prayer by God. But there is never a darkness or a complete no.

And here I am today. 4 Ramadan later. Running to another beautiful mosque in my area with my two little children. To pray.

To dissolve myself. My heart. My soul. My whole being. On the musallah of the Masjid e Madinah.

Too beautiful a feeling to describe.

Too heartening to explain.

No one other than God himself knows how I yearned to be there. In a mosque. To pray to him. In a place meant only for that exact purpose.

My happiness knew no bounds. I stood there quivering with joy, with tears running down my face. Thank you God. For letting me in your home. For giving me a chance to bow down before you in a place you prefer to be prayed to.

I am happy tonight. I sleep in peace tonight. With the happiness that my dua my supplication was answered. That my yearning never went in vain.

As I sit now praying the morning prayer on my prayer mat home. I am at peace. Because I know, my piece of heaven is close by. And I can go there. Whenever I wish to escape this world. Whenever I wish to dissolve in tranquility.

What doesn’t kill you , makes you stronger..

Very well said…


I passed by that bridge many a times. I always looked towards the sky and hoped so bad for a day to come so that we did not go down the exit and went ahead.

God answers all prayers when the time is right!

The day came two weeks back. I was supposed to be focused on that last ride, but I couldn’t because my handbag broke on its first use. What irony!

Things have sped up. I have moved. Away from the chaos to serenity.

There is a positive and negative side to everything.

A proverb I firmly believe in:

Har kisi ko sara jahaan nahi milta…

Kisi ko zameen toh kisi ko asmaan nahi milta…

(Everybody doesn’t get the whole world/everything)

(Some don’t get the sky, some the earth)

Likewise, I got what I yearned for. I should now focus on them. I wanted a good school for my children. They got one. My daughter even went to school for the first time and today was her first day!

I was able to go out independently to drop her and take my son to a park. All by myself!

I can cook and keep the kitchen neat and the way I want it!

I can pray and recite and do as much worship as I want and play it in my cellphone too!

I can breathe in the fresh the air, look at the lovely nature, the lovely trees and flowers, the beautiful houses and cars and landscapes!

I can finally smell! The nose I closed for years. I can now finally smell everything without holding my breath!

I can wear whatever I like and chose what not to wear!

This is a lot of things I yearned for and waited patiently.

God answers all the prayers when the time is right! Yes I believe!



While all the good befalls so do the dark sides of each situations. They may break my heart, snatch away my hopes, twist my feelings. But no, they can’t break me.

Because what was meant to kill me did not. It just made me patient. It made stronger. It made be resilient.

I wake up to a new day. Each day. Breathe in freshness. I have to be happy. I have to be content. I have to be focused.

I have dreams. If I get to live, I shall make each of my moments count.

I must learn to eject the hurting thoughts and feelings. I must chunk them out of my system. Its me for me.

Back then in lonelier times, I remember crying at myself, looking hopelessly in the bathroom and hating everything. The shower would drown my tears. I learnt to cry without a sound. Long ago. I remember hugging myself and telling me that I am there for me. Yes on this earth, only one is for one.

Expectations hurt. Every. Single. Time. Don’t expect, you don’t hurt at all. I learnt this long ago. Now I must re-learn that.

I have a set of goals to accomplish. Dreams to fulfill. To-do list to complete.

I have a lot to let out. A lot to pour away. A lot to read. I have things to do. I mustn’t despair.

My Lord watches over me, protects me and does things for me in ways I wouldn’t dream of.

I must welcome my mind, body and soul to this new land. I must let in all the goodness fill all the holes in me.

I must be there for me….