This Society And Its Cruelness

There was a death in the city three days ago.

.

An aunty very dear to us, had the misfortune of losing her husband. He was in the hospital the past 1 and a half month, really sick, not being able to cope with pain but he was breathing, alive. 

I have seen that aunty go about her day, working selflessly for others. When she got married, her husband had a whole family to support, so she spend her years, cutting down her needs, educating and then marrying her husbands siblings. By that time, her own kids were grown up, so there studies became a priority. After that came marriages and finally after all these years, she was free. 

The time had come for her to sit back and relax. 

But destiny had something else in mind. 

Word gets around very fast. Its twisted like a piece of twine. Some of the things I heard were down right cruel. 

"See, his sons are Hafiz-e-Quran. But when I asked him to read Quran to his father, he put it on a mobile instead of reading it out loud himself."

"We went to their house to pay our respects and his daughters did not even come out of there rooms."

"I was sitting there for half an hour and I was not asked for water. Back home, we are served tea, samosas, biscuits etc."

"All of there kids are so rude. What was the use of their parents sacrificing so much for such selfish kids ?"

"At least my kids are not like this. If I die, they will arrange for catering and make sure no one goes hungry from our house."

"Ali Sahab and his wife were religious but their kids were not at all. They cared too much about worldly things."

"Parents need to focus more on their kids upbringing. Ali Sahab should have paid attention to his kids religious education."

"His eldest daughter was not even crying. Instead of tears dripping down her face, she was looking after her own daughter."

"Where was their daughter in law's family ? My neighbour's daughter told me that no one visited, from their family in these three days."

This is what is being talked about at a dead man's funeral.

Yes, they are praying for his forgiveness in the next world, for him to be awarded Jannah, reciting Quran and Darood Shareef for hours. But when they go back to their homes, this is what they talk about. Apparently, this was more important then that man's funeral.

So the next time, someone dies near to us. We need to forget our own grief and cater to the people around us. We need to make sure that they get tea, biscuits, eat Biryani, Qorma, Karahi and then Gajar ka Halwa for dessert. Then spread quilts filled with bird feathers, under them so they sit in the most comfortable way possible. We should assist them in every way so they go home and talk about some other nonsense.

You would expect that our society would leave you alone when a person you dearly loved, dies.

But no ! Not even death can put scotch tape on their mouths.

Lord knows what truly can. 

Home Is Where The Heart Is

Its been four years since our last move and I have to say that I had forgotten the chaos that comes with it. My house looks like a frat house right now. Piles of clothes lie here and there, cartons have engulfed every inch of the space, keys have been lost, the trash pile is larger than the things we actually need, arguments are going on on what to keep and dispose off ( my mom wants to throw everything) and any attempt at making the house cleaner ends up making it more messy.

After taping and labeling a carton, we find something that has to specifically go that in one. Than we have to open it up again. Its a disaster. We only have two days left till the moving day and let me tell you that only our store has been packed and the books of the house, which occupy more space than rest of the things combined. Abbu had a fit seeing so many books. And he uttered the words "ban" and "books" in the same sentence. I said, lets not go there, my dear daddy. Because more than half are yours.

What I love about moving houses is that you have an excuse for everything. Didn't do your homework. Moving houses. Didn't callback a friend. Moving houses. Missed dental appointment. Moving houses. Ordered pizza three times in a week. Moving houses. Its awesome. And it works every single time.

Its a little weird though. In a way, we don't have a single house to call home. So we make every one of the houses we live in, our home. And you get attached to it. But the fun part is that you have numerous houses all over the continents to call your home.

This house like many before, has been our home. It has seen us BBQ countless times on the roof, than counting the stars in the sky, running upstairs like its a marathon to watch the fireworks. My favourite corner where I have sat, blinded by sunlight, drinking coffee and writing something. The wall that is covered with my incomplete sketches of the Doha Skyline, Huzaifa's disastrous writing on top of it and Moawiz's creepy hand drawn men crawling all over it. Me and Muaaz dancing like we are possessed, in the cold November rains. Our endless arguments on who will sweep the garage floor. The crazy idea we had of painting it ourselves and we did do it.

I sincerely hope that we pack everything and still have our body parts working. Because right now, we look like gypsies who have parked their caravans on the country side and thrown everything in it.

Good luck to you and to us !

Adieu !

S

.......

Nip The Evil In The Bud

Gossipping. And talking about other people. And making fun of others. This started last year. Somehow in the past year, our talks became more about what other people were doing and less about what we were doing. We became so much interested in other people's lives. And we became invested in it. What they were doing? Why they were doing that ? And it kind of became an obligation to comment on various activities that people were involved in. It was like this girl said that to her friend who told another one of her friends and on and on. By the time the news reached certain people, I am sure it was not even true. But nobody cared to know the background. Because everybody had something to talk about.

I felt like I was 7 again and I was playing Chinese Whisper. But instead of being a game, it was real life. And real people were being talked about. And I know that I was one of those people being talked about. I also know that some of the things that went around were very true and were wrong. But nonetheless, I believe that I had no right to talk about those things. Gossipping is like Chicken Pox. It is a highly contagious disease which stings everybody in the end. And it spreads like fire. 

I have always hated gossipping. But even I started liking it. It was sick. Believe me, when you are the one being talked about, it is not fun. Not at all. And no matter how much you try, you cannot change the story. So when the new year started, one of the promises I made to myself was that I will not talk about others anymore. Or make fun of them. Trying is in my hands and I will try. I do not want to end up like one of those Aunties whose sole purpose is to keep track of every body's life and then pass the information on, mixing it with a lot of spices and exaggerating the story. 

For a little while I was a small mind as well. But not anymore. Not anymore. This is me "Nipping the evil in the bud". 

...SAP...