As featured in the October 2010 issue of MumandMuslim.com e-zine
By Saadia Qureshi
Ramadan 1987 or something. The events described are based on memory and a bit of creative licence for a purpose. Thank God I wasn’t Baligh!
Sunset 21:20pm whattttttt!!!…But I’m just a child!!!
4am: “Get up Saadia its time for seri” Dad screamed.
4:25: “Get up now, you haven’t got long left” Dad screamed again.
“Alright I’m getting up” I mumble in my slumberous state. I dragged my lazy self out of bed and managed to stumble haphazardly into the kitchen with one eye open and hair looking more like a birds nest than usual.
Dad prepares my brother and I a plate of rice with last nights curry, I start to wince. “Curry dad, I don’t want curry I want cereal, or pasta, pasta, why can’t we have pasta?” I said turning up my nose. “Oh do I have to fast?”
4:45: Dad starts of on the rant where I wished the only reason I opened my mouth was to shove that great big mouthful of curry and rice into it. “Do you know how many children your age are going without food, do I have to fast, do I have to fast insolent girl, of course you have to fast, at least one roza. Don’t ever say that again, oh my god it’s nearly time and I haven’t even had my cup of tea yet”. Needless to say I ate up my plate of rice and curry, knowing that the day would bring peculiar, piquant and pungent tasting burps, just that sharp kick of acid, oh how I wished I was Saadia Corleone ‘Ahh… forget about it!’
We all brushed our teeth, I tried to dodge Dad and leg it to bed
“Saadia kahan gayi? Where has Saadia gone?, SAADIA!” Dad shouts.
“Yes dad” I answer back from under my duvet, this time I didn’t manage to elude him, ‘Unlucky’ I thought to myself.
“Get here right now, make wudu and come and sit with me.”
Irritated, as I threw my duvet to one side and then masticated to myself…
‘I don’t want to fast why is he making me, if I told people he was making me he would get into so much trouble, its not fair its cruel, that’s what Ester Ranzen would say, maybe I should just call Childline. Why is he always telling me what to do?’ Somehow through this imputing mumble I managed to complete the reflective and serene act of ablution and find my way into his bedroom.
“Sit down” Dad said not looking up from the book he had opened up on his lap.
“Dad I don’t think I’m feeling well, I don’t think…” I got his attention.
“That’s very sad Saadia it means you won’t be able to go Eid clothes shopping” he still hadn’t looked up from his book but he was smiling with one eyebrow raised.
“Oh” I reluctantly positioned myself on the edge of the bed. I knew that even if I yawned a gazillion times I would not be excused from hearing these irksome religious stories from ‘The Book’, Dads book. ‘Is it time yet, can we pray now’ I would ask almost at the end of every paragraph.
‘SAADIA’ dad would shout.
‘Ok, ok I’m just sleepy’
“Sleepy your not too sleepy when the ‘A’team’ is on, aur kyaa, what else, oh haa, that bloody rubbish bakkwas katchra ‘Neighbours’ is on, your not sleepy then are you? It’s the holy month of Ramadhan and the Shaytan is locked away, at least we thought it was, and here is my baywaqoof child stupid and ignorant, oblivious to the power of this month. You Will sit and you Will listen whether you like it or not sumjhi, understand?’
“Fine” I muttered. “but the ‘A-team is on at 5pm NOT am daa…
‘Kyaa, what was that?’
‘Nothing, nothing’ I said retreating head in my hands.
5:30: “The little boy Ibrahim carried the axe and broke all the idols all but one the largest idol of them all. He carefully placed the axe in the hands of the idol, and ran back home and waited for the morning…”
“You mean like us lot dad” I yawned.
“Don’t be so cheeky Saadia you are getting too big for your boots, your not too old for a thappar, a good hiding is what is needed.”
I rolled my eyes and then I thought to myself…
‘isn’t it time already to pray, why is this taking so long, anyway I don’t even understand how if Ibrahim was wielding this large axe and breaking everything up, smashing everything to smithereens how comes no one heard him?.. Oh wait maybe that was the bit where I feel asleep.’
5:45 Finally it was time to pray. I stood beside my brother fidgeting, nudging him, he forcefully nudged me back, pinching him then we bent over to do sajdah. When normally asked to pray it would be at the rate of knots up down up down a bit of finger wagging Bobs your uncle Nellys your aunty done and dusted back to the telly in a jiffy. But alas this time my sleep had to wait for my father to finish the Fajar prayer.
25 min later…finally I was allowed to go to bed, that was after the pins and needles subsided and I could actually move.
9:30 “Get up Saadia it’s nearly 11 o’clock” Dad said knocking on my bedroom door.
10:00 “My children are so lazy get up Saadia it’s nearly 11 o’clock.”
10:30 “I can’t believe this, bus how much more do you wanna sleep outto, get up Saadia it’s nearly 11 o’clock.”
11:00 “half the day has gone and now it really is 11o’clock get up Saadia.”
“But Dad I’m growing I need my rest” I grumbled.
“Bus Saadia NOW!” Dad screamed.
I tossed my duvet aside; I did a lot of duvet tossing growing up. I was being torn from my enclave my haven my happy place my …bed. Let me tell you a thing about my bed, it was pushed up against a rusty old radiator. Its creaky metallic sound called to me often…
‘Come to me Sadi wadi, leave all the world behind and snuggle. I will love you in all my goethite glory when no one else will. Come, come, run your icy cold extremities along my ridges, feel my warmth which after a while may leave you with 3rd degree burns for which I cannot be held responsible, but come, come anyway…‘.
I digress as always, where was I…oh yes my mutterings. Then the muttering started. ‘What’s the point can’t even eat, they just don’t understand, how can they possibly be my legal guardians and think they are doing the best by me. They won’t be laughing, if I faint, like in the middle of the street, what if I like get knocked over because I’ve over exerted myself, they would be sorry then wouldn’t they, then they would wish they had just let me sleep. What if I broke my leg in 3 places that would be so horrible, I would have to be off school for months, imagine how much of my education would be impacted, if only they would just let me be and sleep. What if I get knocked over and break my leg in 3 places and can never walk again, OMG all because no one took my need to sleep seriously, selfish people that’s what I think.’ (note to reader, ‘they’ is my prepubescent self’s way of hating on those in authority unfortunately in this case my long suffering Dad.)
“SAADIA”
‘I’m in the bathroom’ I screamed back at Dad in a way sure to make even Axel Rose blush!
11:30 “Oh finally madam maharani Victoria has accepted the cordial invitation to have an audience with her father” Dad said tilting his head out of respect.
“You know sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.”
“I’ll give you sarcasm in a minute start tidying up.”
“Why dad? Whose coming?” I said sitting down in the living room in a leisurely fashion flipping through the Argos catalogue.
“Your sister” Dad replied.
My sister to me aged ten was Kim and Aggie but a million times worse because she was family! Literally It’s like my brother and I had a rocket up our butts, you know like the one Arnold Swarzeneggar’s girlfriend launches in the movie ‘Commando’ only the right way round, 2 hours, 1 can of Pledge and a temperamental Henry later the house was spick and span, nana Mary Poppins would have been proud. (BTW sometimes she wouldn’t even come but it was the only way Dad knew how to get us to tidy up)
1:30 “Sit down Sadi beyti, you have worked so hard”
“Don’t worry Dad I’ve just got to finish of sweeping the kitchen floor.”
‘Oh Saadia Masha’Allah, your a good girl, but don’t forget to pray Duhar ok.”
“Ok dad” I snuck off into the kitchen, broom in tow what a fantastical disguise for what I now know to be a completely greedy and despicable act. No I’m not a secret lemonade drinker it’s far worse I am a secret lashings of chocolate spread on soft white bread during Ramadan in broad daylight eater! As I stuff the white and brown doughy delicacy in my huge aperture in a shifty, twitchy fashion akin to the Artful Dodger. Within seconds my hunger is appeased and the disguise tossed to the side while I become raiders of the lost hob knob!
2:30 “Have you prayed?’ Dad shouted from downstairs.
“Of course Dad” answered a remorseless little miss slyboots.
“Good girl, go and have a rest you must be so tired beyti, don’t worry about coming shopping I will go, I will leave your brother home with you.”
“Yes I do feel like the fast is getting to me, maybe I will have a little nap, er dad I really fancy breaking my fasts with chaat.”
“Ok beyti.”
“Er with samosa and imli chutney?”
“Of course anything for my rozdar beyti.”
“Thanks Dad you’re the best”.
Off I ran like a cunning fox into my bedroom, pulling out the latest of Mr Patel the chemist’s offering to the world of cosmetics in the form of ‘Jezebel red’ lipstick and slapping it on, walkman and headphones in tow, diving on to my bed whipped out from under my pillow the latest issues of ‘Just Seventeen’ (clearly I wasn’t). Under my pillow was a magical enchanting place, it housed important things like historical documents charting pop culture aka ‘Smash Hits’, the latest classical literary offerings from the likes of Jackie Collins or Virginia Andrews and a comforting supply of (new and recycled) ‘Hubba Bubba’ bubble gum in it’s piggy pink glory! I lay there flipping through singing the latest of Madonna’s newly composed arias to my little hearts content, listening out for the keys in the front door with my one ear clearly exposed for just this task and thinking about getting a precious gem in my tooth a la Mick Hucknell. Let it never be said that I couldn’t multitask!
The bright young Muslim … Yeah right!
Present day…
Maybe some of us had Ramadan’s like this maybe not, one thing is for definite we want better for our children, we want to be better parents, we want to be better for Allah (swt). Something was definitely missing in my tarbiyyah probably the biggest thing was fearing people more then the almighty creator himself, and caring about myself more than others. I am my own person now and I know right from wrong, and having integrity matters a lot to me, maybe because it was in scarce supply in my youth! How can anyone be true to you if you’re not true to yourself? Major lessons learned through the twists and turns of life.
I always think that if I didn’t have Islam I would have been a tart with a heart, yes an Indian Kat Slater, too much makeup, fake lashes living in denial and most probably on the edge, crying into my plate of curry and rice, angry at the world, with a bit of a J.D problem waiting for that moment of clarity that just never comes. The thought sends shivers down my spine, clearly that would have been too much for the world too handle…thank God! (Those of you who don’t watch EE, the international equivalent would probably be Britney Spears in melt down mode but brown, and partial to a bit of achar)
Life is still difficult but having Islam has kept me centred which was lacking whilst growing up. My experiences have shaped what I want for my little people and that’s to love Islam and all that comes with it. Not because I passed it to them in a cultural way samosas, chat, dahi varda chuck in a faloodah and some haleem you’re having iftar back in India! I want our bambinos to not feel the be all and end all of Ramadan is about being a gastronome. Ramadhan is about so much more. Ramadan is about being true to ones self by taking the time to scrutinise the good and the bad purely for the pleasure of Allah (swt), fearing no one but him and being in the sure knowledge of living this life only for him. I guess that’s how we should be all the time. But even more so during this blessed month. I have flash backs about the things Dad used to say to me growing up, at the time it was just LOUD noise , and now they make sense. May Allah (swt) reward my Dad for trying.
Ramadhan 2010
This Ramadhan has been eclipsed by the plight of the ummah in Pakistan. An important message I wanted to get out to my little people was that we as the ummah of Muhammad (saw) are responsible and accountable for caring for the affairs of the ummah. We needed to do all that we could. My little ones were astonished at the sights they saw of the people affected by the floods and were even more flabbergasted that many affected were still observing their fasts during the auspicious month of Ramadhan.
We as did many other Muslims gave in the way of Allah (swt) as it was and is our duty. Visiting industrial estates where there were queues of cars lining up to the entrance of warehouses which were brimming with food clothing and medicines. This was a spiritual experience in itself Subhnallah. My kids didn’t disappoint, this fuelled their desire to want to contribute, Masha’Allah! Maybe one doesn’t have to go to Mecca and Medina all the time to feel the warmth of the ummah of Muhammad (saw)…
Then there was the death of my Brother Faraj Hassan in Ramadan who left behind a wife and three children. May Allah (swt) have mercy on him and protect his family always. He died on the 16th of August in a fasting state, it gave my little ones comfort to know that:
“Whoever fasts one day seeking the Face of Allah and that was his final action, will enter Paradise.” (Ahmad)
Ameen.
One thing I will always feel indebted to may father for was instilling in me that the time before braking fast was the best time to ask Allah (swt) the almighty for anything your heart desired. This was the time a fasting person is the most vulnerable, counting down to sunset, a spread laid bare fit for a king , a mere mortal, salivating, fighting the physiological state of lethargy shows restraint for who? For the sake of the one who made you form a clot of blood, and when He says be, it is!
Back in the dumb days one just might imagine the sorts of dua I was making. One wouldn’t be too wrong to assume that a selfless request to the almighty at iftar time concerning an absolute need for purple fishnet tights and neon orange leg warmers just like the one’s Cindy Lauper donned in the ’Girls just wana have fun’ video may have been banded around …well, Dad did say only ask of Allah and that was the beginnings of a concept forming in my noggin Alhumdulilah!
This Ramadhan my entourage sat at a perfectly set iftar table making dua for the Muslims in Pakistan. MY sister Aafia Siddique who couldn’t be with her babies or family and spends each night alone, out of sight but NOT out of mind. For Allah (swt) to grant his mercy and blessings on brother Hassan and his widow and three children. For the starving children of the world, and for all those who struggle against oppression in its various forms. This Ramadan I hope as a Muslim I was able to impart a sense of accountability and responsibility that is required of each and every one of us child and adult alike that comes part and parcel of being a member of this great ummah. If just one person understood this from my shameful deflections then Eid would literally be… the cherry on top.
