Recognition

I wear the Hijab for the same reasons women indulge in designer goods.

I sometimes wondered why someone would hold on to, say, a Louis Vuitton or a Gucci bag considering they’re so unbearably uncomfortable to carry. The zippers get stuck, the leather is rigidly stiff and the pattern is tediously repetitive. If not for the brand logos etched on to the products, I doubt anyone would pay anything for them. Considering thus, I decided it was all about the name.

The label gives you recognition, it makes people look at you, admire you, even envy you… and that makes you feel good. As I said before, my Hijab does the same for me; it gives me recognition, and that makes me feel good too. Brands help you advertise your money; my outer garb helps me advertise my faith. The designer name boosts your confidence and portrays your modernity. My covering, likewise, makes me feel liberated and self-assured.

How amusingly similar the effects, yet, how starkly different the approach.

Perception

I wonder at the inability of certain people to accept me as a part of them.

I am reminded, almost every day, how irrationally it is that we’re sometimes judged.

My friend once shared with me a similar experience, when she went to attend a seminar on Human Resource Development at LUMS a few years ago. In her words, more or less, While they waited for the lecture to begin she noticed an oddly out of place , shalwar above the ankles, very plain looking, bearded man, walking about the stage and wondered what he was doing among the intellectually high end crowd. She refocused her attention thinking he was most probably there to fix up the mikes etc, only to be utterly amazed when that same person was announced as the key speaker. The auditorium remained dead silent throughout his talk, his words gripping, his ideas scholarly and his theme completely worldly. Later, my friend confessed that she would never have thought him capable of such wondrous wisdom had he not spoken. “It’s just that,” she said, “when you see a veiled woman or a bearded man, you can’t help but think that they’d have a brain the size of a pea.”

It all comes down to perception really. We all do it. We form preconceived ideas of people we’ve hardly met. A hippy looking guy with a pony tail, I assure you, would always pass off as an ‘artist’ and a chap who talks feminine, we think, must belong to the fashion industry.

So, I hardly blame those who, in my presence, feel intellectually superior. As I sit there, clad in my hijab, I don’t frown, but I smile at their dim ignorance… ironic! Isn’t it?

Man's Word Vs God's Word

Back in 2004, when my son’s school decided to have separate branches for boys and girls, they wrote letters to all the parents explaining their reasons based on research carried out in the UK. I didn’t pay much attention to it at the time as an all boys environment for my son was more than fine for me. A few weeks ago, however, I again stumbled upon hints from similar researches, and this time my curiosity got the better of me. I went online to look at what all the fuss was about.

I came across a multitude of studies carried out by various institutions on the subject of gender-separate classrooms. University of Cambridge, for example, has concluded after a four year study of gender differences in education, that single-sex classroom format is remarkably effective at boosting student performance. Similarly, The Australian Council for Educational Research (ACER) compared performance of students at single-sex and coeducational schools. Their analysis, based on six years of study of over 270,000 students, in 53 academic subjects, demonstrated that both boys and girls who were educated in single-sex classrooms scored on average 15 to 22 percentile ranks higher than did boys and girls in coeducational settings. Universities of Michigan, Virginia and the Stetson University in Florida have determined the same. The list of institutions that have either completed or are still undergoing research on the matter is too long for me to go on. Thus, for those of you, who may be shaking their heads at this (most probably in disbelief), here is the link to the Fifth International conference of NASSPE V, held in Atlanta (Georgia), October of this year (2009), which pretty much covers reports from around the globe.

http://www.singlesexschools.org/research-singlesexvscoed.htm

And so I wondered; that it is exactly what Allah has intended for us. Intermingling of the sexes is highly discouraged in Islam and we are given clear instructions regarding male relations we can freely interact with. Then how is it that we (Muslims) weren’t the ones to figure it out sooner. Why do we need others to tell us what we’ve already been told? Allah says in the Quran, that only He has a complete knowledge of all things and has but given only a minute part of it to man. Should not the Quran and its precise explanation by our Prophet (SAW) suffice? Instead, we toil and we struggle, we research and analyze, and we come up with what we think is best… at least for the time being. Remember when margarine was recommended by doctors as being heart healthier than butter. But now they’re telling us, ‘go back to having butter’, for margarine is terribly unwholesome with all the Trans fat… oops!

Science, technology, research, theories; nothing can be entirely reliable. Why would we not then listen to our Allah? Allah, who already knows everything and has been kind enough to share some of that knowledge with us. Yet, we’re stuck in our own insecurities, too easily impressed, forever influenced, trying to modernize ourselves according to the standards set by today’s world, not realizing that we already have a very up to date, advanced religion which, if followed precisely, would ultimately render us as progressive and enlightened.

Allah encourages learning, gaining knowledge and being constantly in pursuit of advancement through all means available, however, along the way we must not forget to refer to the Quran; a manual put together by our creator for the effective and most efficient running of every aspect of our lives.

It’s strange how we always take man’s word, try to understand it, trust it and endeavor to act upon it while we almost always ignore the word of Allah, neglect it, doubt it and ultimately reject it.

My Return to England- December 2009

My journey back home, and I say home merely because it has always felt like home, held much drama. The airline this time was Etihad, chosen for the successful completion of a plan devised to surprise and shock my family. For the surprise to work I had to get to the house on my own and since the said airlines has a chauffeur service for it’s business class travellers, I was generously treated to travel in style.
The flight was at an inconvenient hour, 3:45 in the morning, but together with my 5 year old, we excitedly embarked upon our journey, wide eyed and eager. The interior of the plane was indeed impressive; cabin style seats with maximum privacy, big screen TV, and an a la carte menu was all too grand. And thus we soon made ourselves comfortable and with another eight hours in the plane to London I convinced my son to sleep for the three hours we had to Abu Dhabi. Well rested, we were more than willing to explore the Abu Dhabi airport which sadly had not much to offer except store after store of all possible designer names you can think of, not very tempting to one free of brand phobia. So instead, we relaxed some more in the airline lounge and patiently waited for our next flight to be announced.
The ensuing part of our travel started off with equal enthusiasm. The prospects of surprising my family by my unexpected arrival was thrilling enough and I just couldn't wait to get the eight hours over. My son reclined his seat, immediately loosing himself to the world of kids’ entertainment. I kept myself busy with a movie, my book of course and with the numerous tempting choices on the menu. It was precisely after the turkey bagel, during the last hour of our journey, that I took my son to the toilet; the moment in time that changed my outlook on many things and sucked out every bit of excitement there was replacing it with despair, remorse and a feeling of complete and utter helplessness.
Til today, I heart wrenchingly, lament the moment I took off my watch, my precious gold and diamond watch, in the toilet. Together with my diamond ring, I put the two things carefully on the top right shelf next to the hand lotion. Oh! what caused such negligence on my part I cannot answer, but the rest of the journey was as miserable as one can imagine. Within five minutes of returning to my seat I realized my folly and went back to reclaim my valuables, but they were gone. I should have created a scene, raised alarm; as a matter of fact there’s a lot that I should have done. It’s not my leaving my belongings in the toilet that haunts me but my inability to have done something about it. Instead I sat there in my seat, repeatedly assured by the members of the crew that they would carry out a search of the few passengers that were on board the business class upon our arrival. I was made to file an official report and led to believe that everything possible would be done to find my things. My mother’s watch, the ring that was a present from my sister, all the time there, in that little confined space, so close yet inaccessible to me. I wish I had taken matters into my own hands. But I just sat there, praying, hoping, wishing, waiting, trusting the crew’s false assurances, dreaming of the culprit being caught by the authorities and anticipating my pleasure at seeing my things once again. Alas! We landed, the aircraft soon came to a stop, my heart started racing in hopeful expectation; the doors opened, but instead of uniformed men standing ready to stop and search the passengers, everyone started disembarking without the slightest hint of an investigation. I looked imploringly at one of the crew members but he simply turned his head away. I felt betrayed, cheated but above all humiliated. The insensitivity of the crew shocked me. They did absolutely nothing to find my belongings. A monetary loss of such grave proportions, and not even an announcement was made!
I sat in my ride with a heavy heart, all else forgotten. Nearing my parent’s house, a lot went through my head. I had been careless no doubt, but someone else had also disregarded their social and moral responsibility, lack of which is nothing short of a crime in itself. I had only lost my possessions but that someone else had just lost a great deal more in gaining the displeasure of Allah. I was content again. The car stopped in front of the house and I got out with a smile on my face, following my oblivious son to the door where all happiness awaited.

Back to England... My First Home!

Summer, 2009

11th June. Changing, yelling for the kids to get up, ordering breakfast, re checking the hand baggage, telling the kids to hurry up, saying goodbye to my better half and finally piling up in the car to go to the airport. It all seemed like a mad rush until we were finally onboard and settling down in our luxurious (as luxurious as PIA can be) seats. One last phone call to hubby dear with a heavy heart wishing he were with us and then the eight hour wait to get to our destination.

The flight was pleasant enough followed by a smooth passage through immigration. We got our bags on the trolley and started walking towards the exit. Already I had a tingling feeling. We were met by my father and led to the parking lot, my heart beating with joyful anticipation.

Then at last, there ahead of me the doors opened and a gush of wind, as eager as I, rushed forward to meet me. I stood there for a moment letting it engulf me, greet me, before stepping outside to take a deep breath letting it fill my insides, welcoming it as it welcomed me.