Never, o Zahra, shall we forget Husayn.

Who are these people, dressed in black clothes,
And from their eyes, rivers of tears flow?
Every year they gather and tell the tale complete
And weep and strike their chests with grief
Ten nights for ten heroes, all without compare
And all the tragedies relived on The Tenth Day
But some tragedies end as others just start
And more to come, more to break the heart
The sick one, the children, the women all captive
Yet still able to leave their tyrants in rapture
Wherever they go, torture and tragedy follow
And kept alive is this tale of great sorrow
These stories are told over and over again
For another forty days to add to the ten
And those who can, go visit that special land
Where holy blood was mixed with sand
Walking on foot, in their millions they arrive
A fire in their hearts that will not subside
On and on towards the King who rules their heart
Each step a renewed pledge to stay on his path
This devotion a part of their destiny and fate
And the true understanding of love and hate

There is only one way to measure love, the poets say.
“Love is measured in sacrifice”; no other way.
And so this tale of grief is also a tale of love
Not worldly love, but that for the Divine above
Seventy-two brave lions set aside their souls
In exchange for what would make them whole
Men aged and old to child and youth
Gladly exchanged their lives for truth

And from Husayn’s family the best of examples
Akbar, who was the Prophet’s own likeness
Qasim, who claimed death sweeter than honey
Asghar the sinless infant 6 months old
Killed for what crime we are not told.
Abbas, the brave, the gallant, the loyal
Matchless servant to the House of Purity
Denied his wish to quench the thirst of children
Giving his arms and then his soul in his mission
Husayn himself, the sacrifice supreme
Giving everything for the pleasure of His Lord
Till nothing was left except for his pure soul
The heftiest price to keep the religion whole
Sajjad, the captive ill one too sick to fight
Zaynab, his sister, witness of the tragedy
In captivity, and after, they kept the tale alive
From then till now, the remembrance thrives

Who are these people, dressed in black clothes,
And from their eyes, rivers of tears flow?
They are a promise made to the mother of Husayn
A nation will arise to ensure his legacy remains
Karbala and its history keeps their souls alive
Unites them and prevents the sects of divide
So they keep alive and tend this eternal light
And gather and grieve and their chests strike
Each strike a blow to the enemies of the Prophet,
Each strike a consolation to his daughter,
Each strike in grief of the tragedies of Husayn,
Each strike a promise to on his path remain,

ابد والله يا زهراء ما ننسى حسينا
Never, o Zahra, shall we forget Husayn.

[FICTION] The Alchemy of Love

I was fresh faced, filled with folly and my first infatuation when I went to see the alchemist for the first time.

I hesitated outside his heavy, thickset door, not knowing what to expect, and almost decided to turn back and forget the whole silly idea, but my heart decided for me. I knocked on the door, at first nervously, then with more confidence, then with impetuosity.

No response. Not even a sign that I had been heard- no sound of locks on the other side of the door being turned, no sound of footsteps shuffling inside, no windows lighting up from the inside; nothing. I was about to give up for the second time, when I witnessed something that I decided to take as a portent and stick to my quest.

I felt a cool breeze touching the side of my face, and when I turned to it, I saw rose petals swirling in the wind in a unique pattern. I stared, not believing what I saw. Roses did not grow in my hometown, and only the very rich were able to have these imported in for them. The delicate flowers were not suited to the hot, arid clime of our town, and so they withered quickly no matter how much water and nutrients they were given. The practice was to only have them for a few days, after which they were pressed and used for making rose-syrup.

However, what made me stare in near-disbelief was not the existence of these petals, (although that was pretty implausible in itself), but rather that the colours were blue. A unique, breathtaking cerulean blue.

I reached for them as they swirled in the breeze, but they kept on eluding my grasp, until finally I managed to retrieve one.

Holding it delicately, I turned it over in my palm to examine it when I finally heard signs of life behind the door of the house of the alchemist. I heard the whirr of heavy machinery and bolts sliding across doors, making their way vertically down the door. Each lock and bolt made a unique noise, and I counted each as it was done. When the door finally creaked open, I had counted nine locks. I wondered what he had to protect that he invested in so many locks for his door.

I started into the eyes of the man who now appeared before me. Of course, of course he didn’t look like how the rumours described him to be. I wondered why I believed them in the first place.

He was thickset but not overweight, and was middle aged. His hair was mostly jet black, but age was beginning to show in small flecks of white that were present in his hair, and his short, neat beard. His complexion was olive skinned, and his emerald-green eyes had shadows under them indicating prolonged periods without rest.

He fixed me with a withering glance, making me feel like an ant in the presence of a giant, and half-growled, half-questioned me.

“Did you get any rose petals?”

I hesitated. I don’t want to give away my prize so soon after working so hard for it, but I decided to trust him.

“Yes.”

“How many did you get?”

“One.”

“Fool. You should have got at least three. What do you want?”

I was stunned into silence. I knew what I wanted to ask him, but I couldn’t force the words out of my mouth.

“Well, what is it? Why have you disturbed the most important time of my day? Why are you here? What do you want!?”

I wanted to tell him. I really did. But I was in such awe of his presence that I just kept on opening and shutting my mouth like a goldfish.

He looked at me, and he must have understood. His face changed completely; before he had been looking at me with a mixture of amusement, curiosity, and scorn, now he was looking at me with barely disguised contempt.

“What’s her name?”

“W-what?”

“You heard me. What. Is. Her. Name?”

“L-L-Layla” He snorted with laughter.

“And what, is your name Majnoon?!”

I was shocked. I nodded slowly.

It was his turn to look shocked. Then he roared with laughter and slapped his thigh, looked at me again and laughed some more.

If I hadn’t been both extremely surprised at this turn of events, and not just a bit frightened out of my mind, I guess I should have been somewhat peeved.

Eventually he stopped laughing, and composed himself. He looked at me again and almost burst out laughing again, but just about kept himself under control.

“And…let me guess - you want a love potion to make Layla fall in love with you?”

I nodded nervously. I daren’t have hoped that I would have got what I wanted so quickly into my first meeting with him. And I was right - of course he wouldn’t give it to me.

“I’m not going to give it to you.”

My disappointment was clearly visible in my face, but it didn’t help my cause. He fixed me with a withering stare and spoke, calmly, evenly, but not disguising his contempt.

“I have spent my whole life learning the secrets of the unseen. I have learned how to transform base metal to gold. I have discovered the secret to immortality. I have riches that stretch beyond the material pale, which any king would trade his whole treasure hoard for just one. I have sat in the presence of beings hidden from your eye. And my most hardest achievement, the one that has cost me the most, has been the search of the recipe to a genuine love potion; the stuff of legend, a drink that turns two hearts towards each other. I have only just got got the formulation perfected two winters ago. And if you think that some lovesick fool is just going to knock on my door get my life’s work just by asking nicely, well, then you’re even more of a fool than I thought.”

“But sir! I will do anything for it. I must have that potion!!”

“You are not getting that potion. But I will give you this bit of advice, for free. Never *ever* let anyone know how much you want something, because your bargaining position immediately weakens.”

“It doesn’t matter to you, sir. You have everything you want, yes?”

“Not…quite.” He chuckled, and his eyes softened a little towards me. “Tell me, young lover…is this your first infatuation?”

“No, sir!!” I was more than just a little angered by that question. “Do not insult me. This is no infatuation - this is true love!”

“All right, all right - this is your first and only time in love?”

“Yes”

“And does she even know you exist?”

I faltered, and gazed at the floor. “I…I…I do not know.” I raised my eyes to meet his, and then spoke the truth that I had tried to hide.

“No.”

“You are a fool, but at least you are an honest fool. I will make a deal with you. If you do 5 quests for me, and one trade, then I will give you the formulation to the potion. And because I know human nature, the antidote I will let you have for free. Into the bargain, it will be most educational for you, and most amusing for me.”

“I accept.”

“The trade first - Give me the blue petal that you have just got.”

I reluctantly handed it over.

“The first quest is this. There is a flower related to the one that sheds the petal you just gave me. It, however, has gold petals, and is set to bloom on a full moon in the middle of winter, on the top of the mountain range a few leagues to the West. It will take you 2 months to travel there, and the middle of winter is 3 months away. You had better start tonight. Good luck.”

We shook hands, and I turned to head off.

“Lad!”

I turned around.

“Take a sword.”

[END]

The Jewel of Qum

I

A golden dome astride two turquoise towers
Gifts from artisans, lords of great power
Shimmering fountains, Arabesques, tilework abound
But real beauty lies buried beneath the ground

II

The people of Qum call on one and all
"Come see the gem that has us all enthralled
Come visit her who has blessed this our town
Come visit her who turns fortunes around
Be you ill in mind, body, heart or soul
Ask, and her gift will be to make you whole
Plead your wishes until you have none left
Her grace is such that none are left bereft

III

I know my presence here is from her call
I know that I will miss this when I'm gone
I know this place now in my heart resides
I know all this and more besides
But I know this to be true most of all
I do not wish to leave her blessed hall

IV

I will leave soon, but my heart will remain
And work and wait for my invite again

01/10/15, Qum, in the presence of Our Lady.

The Emirates Cup: Another Day at the Emirates

I do not have many goals set down for this year.

I know this for a fact because on the first day of this year, my brother and I sat in coffee shop, ordered some coffee and cake, and hashed out our priorities for the year. We set out 5 main targets each, but 5 big ones. If we achieved all five, or even 2-3, the year was a success. And then we added three more, easier goals, the purpose of these being to build our momentum by ticking a few things off, and these were not small goals in their own right.

However, the reason I bring this up is, because, one of the goals I wrote that day, was that I wanted to see an Arsenal match. This past weekend, I did just that, alhamdulillah. After my experience with the Brazil v Chile match, I knew it would be easy to book tickets, to travel to Arsenal, and I knew my way around the stadium.

Furthermore,  the Emirates Cup is a brilliant way to watch your first Arsenal match. It’s a nearly-annual* invitational tournament that invites three top European footballing sides to participate, and rewards offensive, attacking play by factoring goals scored into the standings. It is named after the club’s main sponsor, Emirates, the flag carrier for the UAE, which also explains why the tournament started up only after the airline became the club sponsor.

In addition, there are three more reasons why the Emirates Cup is an excellent choice. The first is that, after all the preseason preparation**, the Arsenal are finally home, and this will be the first matches that they play in front of their fans. In a very real sense, the season is palpably about to begin. Ideally played on the weekend before the Community Shield***, the real season then starts literally two weeks after the Cup. The second is that the quality of football is better, but also more liberated. There is no pressure of fearing to lose. The pre-season is near-enough complete, the players are approaching match-fitness, the team is beginning to gel, and roared on by the home crowd, the Arsenal team should be at their fluid, effervescent, coruscating best. A spectacle should be the norm, here, then, not the exception. And the third is the unique pricing structure, where across both days of the Cup, one ticket allows access to both matches; one kicking off at 2:00 pm, and the other at 4:20 pm. Fantastic; two matches for the price of one.

I had not made up my mind about going until about a week before, where on a whim I went on the Arsenal website, saw that some tickets were free, and bought them. You could call it my Eid present to myself****.

I picked the Sunday, where Olympique Lyonnais would play against Villarreal, and then Arsenal would play Wolfsburg. The tickets arrived in the post, and, whilst not as impressive as the ones for the Brazil v Chile match, I still thought they were beautiful:

Then it was just a matter of waiting for Sunday, but I think I may have chosen the wrong day; on the Saturday, Arsenal handily thrashed Lyon 6-0 on a lovely summer day with basking sunshine. By contrast, it didn’t stop drizzling for most of Sunday...

It shows in the lovely grey picture I took of the stadium:

And also when I draped my scarf around the photo of an Arsenal legend:

And in the buildup to the first match where you could see that not many people really cared about the first match:

I was a little surprised by this; Lyon and Villarreal are both very good European sides. I would not have expected the ground to be less than half empty for this, but I guess other people have different priorities. I think most people only ever bought the tickets to watch Arsenal play, and considered the other game as a sort of bonus. In any case, I was very well entertained, as Lyon tried to show that they weren’t here to make up the numbers, and Villarreal played in their typically slow-fast-slow Spanish style. Lyon were unlucky to hit the crossbar twice, but Villarreal ran out deserved and complete winners at the end.

By the time the second match was ready to kick off, the standings were such that Arsenal only needed to avoid loss to win the Cup, but everyone in the ground knew that they would be going for a win.

And what a difference a few hours makes; the ground was packed for the “main event”:

An energetic Wolfsburg side did their best, but the Arsenal were too good for them. A goal out of nowhere materialised early in the second half, and a little rustiness showed in the way the flicks and tricks of the Arsenal players in promising positions almost-but-not-quite came off. At the other end, the new keeper Cech signed from bitter rivals Chelsea was doing the business in keeping the goal protected.

It was almost a foregone conclusion after the goal was scored, but there was genuine joy nonetheless when the final whistle was blown and the fans and players celebrated. On now to the challenge of Chelsea in the Community Shield***** and then on to the promising challenge of a new season.

As for me, I beat a hasty retreat from the stadium, and instead of walking to the nearby Arsenal Station, I walked the longer but much less congested route to the Finsbury Park Station, and there took my ride to Kings Cross, and from there to Peterborough.

At which point, I enjoyed a coffee and read the souvenir programme:

All in all, a perfect day. Alhamdulillah.

As for me, the next step is to watch a competition match for the Arsenal. Ideally this would be a European or a Premiership match, but I would not turn down FA Cup or League Cup matches, should the opportunity arise.

—————————

August is here. I make it 5-ish months left of the year, a good 150 days. If you haven’t yet started acting on your goals, start now. A lot can be achieved in 150 consecutive days, especially if you work both hard and smart

With duas for you and yours

I

—————————

* Every year since 2007, except for 2012, where it was not held because of the London Olympics.

** In previous years, preseason prep used to be continental training camps mixed with friendlies against local European sides. Recently it has become money-spinning tours in the Far East.

*** The traditional curtain-raiser is played between the winner of the League, and the winner of the Cup. It seems now that it is not as highly regarded as it used to be in the past, but I think this has been the sentiment no matter which era of football.

**** I think this is the first year I didn’t get Eidi. Oh well.

***** As I write this, Chelsea were vanquished yesterday in the Community Shield. Finally. Like most Arsenal fans, I really am very optimistic about this coming season.

Sigtuna & Unterterzen

As I was thinking about how to introduce this post, the idea of having “favourite places on Earth” hit me. It was a question; how capable is any human being of saying they have a favourite spot on Earth - given that very few people can have travelled enough to say so with assurance.

Surely it’s naive? I mean, even those who have travelled the globe can never be sure that, even if they have a firm favourite, they won’t discover something that blows it out of the water in the near future. And then a second thought followed. It doesn’t matter; I was absorbing myself with a non-issue; drawn out by improper phrasing and semantics.

Better for me to say something like this:

For now, given all that I have seen, and experienced, I *currently* have a place that I can call my favourite spot on earth. Two, actually. Two places that I absolutely love going to, and I want to go back to them over and over again. I should make clear that these are not sights of religious or spiritual significance - just outstanding natural beauty. And both are near large bodies of water, and both are in countries that begin with “Sw-”


Sigtuna, Sweden.

Sigtuna is a historic town. Apparently it is the oldest town in Sweden, founded in 980 AD. If I recall correctly, it would have been a town of much significance, and maybe even the capital, before Stockholm became the capital.

If you want, you can go and explore the antique houses and whatnot, and see some ancient Viking markings, but this is not for me. The beauty is in the water nearby. Sigtuna is on the banks of the Mälaren, which is a huge, huge lake. And when you stand on the edge, right near the water, you can get views like this:

The Mälaren stretches 120 km across it’s widest measuring, and starts off pretty inland in Sweden. Thus, there will be a lot of towns that are situated on the banks of the lake and offering pretty picturesque views. But not all of these places will have benches like so:

One thing I really, REALLY want to do is go back during the winter, and sit at that same spot, and watch the frozen lake, (because it will be frozen by then). And just dream and contemplate. I have been here many, many times when I was a child. I also came here a lot in 2012, when I visited Sweden for a month. Just over 2 weeks ago, I was lucky enough to go to Sweden for a short trip spanning only 4 days, and I requested to come again. I got to go there twice, and have an ice cream as I was being battered by the wind. I am lucky. Alhamdulillah.

So that’s one. The second one is….


Unterterzen, Switzerland

Unterterzen has no history, nothing special to drive it. It’s just a small town which is a train stop on the way to Chrüz. It may well just be a trading post that got lucky as far as I know. I found this place by accident, but I am so, so glad I did.

Basically, I was advised to go to Flumserberg when I was in Switzerland, and I did. But I took the most complicated route possible. I first went to Flums (passing Unterterzen on the way without taking much notice of it), which is a sleepy town nestling under the shadows of the Alps. The “-berg” suffix then makes Flumserberg effectively "the mountain range that is near the town of Flums". Eventually, I made my way to the top of the range, and had a good time, but the weather changed and I became sopping wet due to a sudden rain shower.

A little research then revealed that I could have just got off the train at Unterterzen, then got the cable cars that run direct from Unterterzen to Oberterzen to Flumserberg direct with everything done in under 20 mins. I kicked myself for not researching this properly earlier, but I was then able to salvage something of the trip by taking the reverse route down to Unterterzen, and then a direct train back to Zürich.

This is what greeted me halfway through the cable car journey:

Unterterzen sits on the banks of the Walensee, a beautiful lake which has waters that are a intense, striking shade of cerulean blue, which nestles in the shadows of mountains. The cable car drops me neatly opposite the train station, and on the other side of the train station is the waterside.

I couldn’t help myself. I had to go by the water’s edge, and a few mins walk from the station led me to a mooring point for yachts where I was able to get this shot. You can see the that I have changed my point of perspective from the previous shot:

And then, if you turn 90 degrees clockwise you get this:

Followed by this, if you turn 90 degrees clockwise:

Just wow. I could have stayed there all day, but I was wanted back in Zurich, so I made my way back to the train station and headed back. At least, for the next time, I know exactly where I want to go, and how. Alhamdulullah.

For both, this is unbelievable, unparalleled beauty. I am lucky to have two “favourite places on Earth”; I cannot wait to revisit them, and I cannot wait to add more to the list. But I know this for sure; any others would have to be very special places indeed for me to put them here next to these two.

————

Shahr Ramadan Mubarak to my handful of regular readers. I hope this month brings you everything that you seek, and more besides.

With duas

I

On Grieving

Respected Scholars, ladies and gentlemen, brothers and sisters, Salaam Alaikum.

The chalismo, as we commemorate it, marks the end of the mourning period. However, though the period ends, the loss is still the loss. It hits you suddenly, in random, unexpected moments, and you know that in this life the loss is permanent. But, this is not a unique loss. Everyone here will have suffered the same; what we feel is not unique to us, though it feels like it at the time.

My grandmother was a very kind, wise, and caring person. I remember many things, but recently they have just merged into one. I remember games and stories when I was a child. I remember having to learn Gujarati and Katchi so that I could communicate with her better. I remember that before any journey I made, she would make sure that I had an Imam Zamin handkerchief on me. These small acts, and hundreds of others paint the picture of her personality.

She never told me, but other members of my family did, about her early life, stories of patience, and struggle, and strong faith, and determination. She taught me so much was when she was alive, and looking back, she is still teaching me, even though she is no longer with me now. For that, I truly am lucky. She has set me a fantastic example to follow, and if I get anywhere close then my life is a success.

On behalf of the family, I would like to ask any and all present to please forgive my grandmother if she has hurt you in anyway, and please inform us if she has any outstanding debts with yourselves.

I would also like to thank everyone, those who from the start came to offer condolences and share our grief, all the way to today to mark the end, some of whom will have travelled long distances to pay condolences. It is not easy to bear a loss like this, but the support from the community that we have received, in so many different ways, has been a great support. There are too many people to name individually, but from the bottom of my heart I appreciate it and genuinely offer my thanks. Thank you.

I am aware that it is not just one family marking the loss of a dearly beloved family member, but two. Therefore, before I leave, please join me in reciting a Sura Fateha for both the Marhumas.

Salawaat.

_______

This is the speech I gave today at the chalismo (40th Day) majlis of my grandmother. Please recite a Sura Fateha for her soul, and another for the souls of the deceased believers.

An Essay on Comics, in 2 Parts

ON THE DISCOVERY OF COMIC BOOKS

"The Stash", as of 14/04/2015. Some will soon be given away.

If you follow me on Instagram (and to a lesser extent, on twitter), you’ll see me mention comic books a lot. In 2014, a comic book store opened in Peterborough, and I have been a very, very frequent visitor there since*. I think it is safe to say that I love comics, and I am some-way to building a very, very good library (subjectively speaking) of comic books.

Whilst I’ve always been an appreciator of comic book culture, mythologies, histories, movies, timelines, etc, I’ve done all of this without actually reading comic books.

From that point, to finally delve into comic books, with the single issues and trade paperbacks**, and the delectable cover artwork and variants, and the bagging and boarding of issues to preserve them, and the descriptions of M/NM/VF/F***, and trawling through back issues to find obscure and not so obscure #1s and other special issues/editions …well, its a whole different subculture and I am very glad to be partaking of it at this moment in my life.

What comics give you that is different from both books and movies is a lack of descriptive prose. A novel will have both dialogue and written description for scene setting. A movie will have auditory dialogue, and will visually set the scene. A comic has written dialogue, and the scene is set visually by the artist in the panels. What you get from this is that you see first hand how the writer of the tale imagines it, whereas with novels you have to imagine yourself, and with movies, you see the director’s vision. If you can get round that, you’re in for a fantastic treat.

I am not sure how long I will be into comic books for, but right now, I am loving it.

As an aside, I am surprised by how much I appear to love DC over Marvel; I’d say at a rough guess DC comprises 75% or more of my collection, nearly half of which is just Sandman. Which leads me on to…

THE SANDMAN

“Excellence is its own master, owes no allegiance, bows it’s head to no regimen. It exists pure and whole like the silver face of the moon”

 - Ralph Ellison, Introduction to Sandman, Volume IV

The Sandman is something quite special indeed. It was published monthly in 75 issues by DC/Vertigo from October 1987 to January 1996, and later collected into 10 volumes. The story follows Morpheus, the Dream-King, as he deals with the challenges of looking after and protecting his realm, who begins to understand that in order to progress and survive, he has to change his ways.

Ralph is right. The Sandman is one of the most amazing works of fiction I have come across in any format. Neil Gaiman is a master storyteller, and I continue to be impressed beyond measure by his vision, and the way he seems to start with a premise, extend it in multiple directions, and in his extending plant the seeds for closing the tale. Then, when he closes the story, it is done so neatly, so elegantly, that I’m just in awe.

The tale once told is then complete. And it is not just a good tale, told well, but rather, a fantastic tale, excellently told. He’s done this over and over for novels and comics, so this is no accident.

I have absolutely no qualms about putting the Sandman series right next to Shantaram in my list of recommended literature. If you’re in the mood for something different, unique, and very well made, give Sandman a go.

Finally, whatever you do, try to achieve the same level of excellence and polish as this series, and you will go very, very far.

Sometimes you wake up.

Sometimes the fall kills you.

And sometimes, when you fall, you fly.

- The Sandman, Volume VI

With duas for you and yours

I

———

* As an aside, I think there are enough people to support exactly one of each type of enterprise in a small town/city, and then this number grows as the population gets bigger. Example: Peterborough has exactly one Kurdish restaurant, one dessert parlour, one comic book store, one shisha cafe, one grand library, one mall, etc.

** A trade paperback usually collects a story arc of single issues and normally have no advertisements in them as well.

*** Mint / NearMint / VeryFine / Fine

Brazil v Chile: A Day at the Emirates.

It began, as most things do, with the arrival of the post. If only we knew how many incidents were set off by the arrival of some post. The envelope arrived much earlier than I expected it too, and in it lay one of the most beautifully designed graphic pieces I had seen.

As a designer, you can't help but notice good design when you see it, and likewise critique bad design when you see it. It may well be a general rule that you can extend to every profession; do something long enough and you begin to become good at it; and you begin to see where others are also doing well or not so well. And this is, in my professional opinion (such as it may be called), exceedingly well designed.

Anyway, that I say that it began with the arrival of the post actually proves the opposite. It did not begin with the arrival of the post...

It began much earlier; much more earlier indeed. As soon as I became aware of the existence of the match, that my beloved Arsenal were going to host Brazil for the 7th time in 9 years, then I decided pretty much instantly that I was going to go, and genuinely, I would go alone if need be.* And what opponents! Chile, who took Brazil all the way to penalties in the World Cup not so long ago, who were going to host the Copa America later this year, who play with this insanely high-tempo, aggressive, effervescent style... it was a wonderful pairing.

So I bought my tickets; and I was able to get some pretty good seats fairly cheaply; these would have been much more expensive were they for an Arsenal match. Add to this that I was going to watch my first ever match at the Emirates Stadium, and watch my first international friendly, well, I was buzzing for weeks.

Match-day arrived and I made my way to the Arsenal Underground station; the only stop to be exclusively named for a sports team.

A short walk later saw me at the stadium, with a fantastic atmosphere being built by lots of native supporters of both sides; I had no idea so many Chileans and Brazilians would be at the match. I was there as a pure neutral, but these guys were adding to the atmosphere, which I was most grateful for. Note the Chile flag already territorially draped over the Armoury.

I went inside early, and so got to take some pretty nice pictures of the empty stadium....

...and a few also when it was full, just before kickoff, with this my pick as players from both sides lined up for the national anthems:

Fantastic seats, yes?

I also got a programme, and again marvelled at the design and consistency. Everything matched; the programme, the ticket holder, the posters around the stadium, the menus, everything. Wow. I was impressed.

The match itself unfortunately didn't live up to the hype. An energetic Chile side harassed and harried the Brazil side and didn't allow them to settle at all. The Chileans dominated possession but were unable to do much with it, and there were tons of fouls to prevent any sort of rhythm going on. Chances were few and far between. In the second half, against the run of play, a moment of exceptional quality saw a through ball release the Brazilian Firmino to be one-on-one with the keeper. He kept his composure, rounded the keeper and coolly slotted the ball into the net. I saw that happen in front of me, and for a few moments everything really was in slow motion. The rest of the match saw Chile try to mount a comeback, but sadly nothing happened.

After the match, I went and saw the old Highbury Stadium, which, as a listed building, is not allowed to be demolished. The club kept the Art Deco facade and redeveloped the stands into residential flats; a brilliant idea.

And that's that. Fully happy with the days events (except for the match itself), I set off home, with one thing for sure in my mind; I absolutely loved watching the match live, and I want more.

inshaAllah.

With duas for you and yours.

I

-----------------


* Parenthetically, I do not understand why some of my friends think it is a sad, unsociable, lonely thing to go to the cinema alone. I am more than happy to do that, and have done so numerous times. I'd rather watch a movie that I want to see alone than watch something I don't want to in a group.

The Manifesto of Imran the Ever-so-Slightly-Ponderous, Age 27

It has been a particular affectation of mine to decide not to celebrate any birthdays, as they come up. I use them mostly as periods of reflection, but never actually as an occasion for celebration, although normally I do not discourage people from making a fuss over me. After all, it’s nice to be made a fuss of*.

I can, however, point to recent birthdays and say that my affectation, such as it was, no longer exists. For each of my last 3 birthdays (years 2013/14/15), I have decided to willingly celebrate them, and I am happy that I did. Year 2012 may well have been the turning point; after spending it in hospital suffering the bouts of a self-induced ulcer. It is perhaps too simple an analysis to say that I discovered a zest for life after that episode, but who knows? It may well be true.

In any case, this is not to say that I do not intend to use this moment for self-reflection and setting loose goals for the year ahead. I fully intend to, and my thinking has been guided by these two quotes:

“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.”

- Oscar Wilde

and

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms.”

 - Henry David Thoreau, Walden

Walden is more than the point I want to make, he talks about minimalism and whatnot, but please ignore that.

The thing that I take away from both of these is a kind of intended shift in normal day-to-day thinking. Both of them hint very subtly at a trap that I would say ensnares most people who live in the Western world (and quite a few who live in the East, it must be said).

The problem that we have, a lot, is that we run our lives on autopilot and routine, mostly. How much thought do we give to the actions we are doing, constantly? Or are we just running from instinct to instinct and urge to urge? How much thought to the habits that we are building for ourselves, good or bad? Or now that we have formed them, we just submit and succumb to their pull?

I don’t know. I speak only for myself when I say it is too often.

Now, I am not saying that habits are a bad thing. Of course not. Habits are a good thing, or rather, good habits are a good thing. However, how many “good habits**” do you have? How many good habits have you consciously and deliberately engineered? And, crucially, how many do you want to have?

There’s another quote that goes like so:

The second half of a man’s life is made up of nothing but the habits he has acquired during the first half

- Fyodor Dostoevsky

In a nutshell, this is a powerful way of illustrating the power of habits in our lives, and so we should be very, very careful of what we already have implemented in our lives. Pretty soon they will become nigh-on irreversible.

I did not intend for this post to become a mini-essay on habits, so I will stop that right here.

The overall post was intended to be a reflection as to the extent to with we are deliberate about our actions. As I understand it, in Islam, intention plays a major part in the morality of the actor. Taken one step further, if I do a good deed out of habit, and so do not give any deliberateness of thought and confirmation of intention, then perhaps I shouldn’t have bothered, maybe?

Of course, My Lord is merciful and generous, and I am sure some level of reward would possibly be assigned to it, but still - why hobble yourself? When you do something, do it with full awareness and intention, and when you are consciously trying to form a habit, then do it with twice as much. You’ll see the benefits, I promise.

Perhaps not so obviously, this is my target for the next year. To have more awareness and consciousness of what I do, and try to limit the autopilot as much as possible

————

One of the reasons why I am more than happy to celebrate this particular birthday is the amount of progress I have made in the last year, Alhamdulillah. I’ve travelled a lot, and I have had very good experiences, I finished off my Postgraduate course, etc etc. Furthermore, towards the end of 2014, I hit upon a major realisation, which has done a lot to shape my life since.

In the past, in order to make people happy, I used to let myself be walked over. This probably would have continued on indefinitely, until an incident happened where someone really overstepped the mark and, angrily***, I pushed back, and told them to get lost (I really did; “you and your ego can both get lost” were my words, and I really like that phrasing. I may reuse them in a fiction). I was conflicted at the time, and felt bad for doing it, but looking back, I am more than 100% glad I did.

A lovely, and unexpected side effect was me realising that I should accept myself for who I am, and not hide certain aspects of myself for the sake of shallow friendships. Wearing your heart on your sleeve has its own benefits (I should point out that it also has its drawbacks, so myself I am trying to find a happy middle, but one more transparent than how I was before.)

To wit; here is my manifesto. This is me, and as much as I can tie it to the topic above, these are all deliberate choices. This is who I am at age 27, and any changes that I make, both additions and removals, will be my own conscious decision.

I am Imran.
I am who I am, and finally, I accept it fully.
When I love something, it shows. It shows in the way my eyes light up, and I become animated when I talk about it. And I become animated about a lot of things. For example:

• I like tea. I LOVE tea. It matters not what culture the tea is from - I will have it all.
• I love my comic books, especially The Sandman series. I love delving into aspects of the comic book subculture. The opening of a new comic book store here in Peterborough has had more of an effect on me than I would have thought possible.
• I love books, and I will probably never finish my reading list, though I do read on average one book every 2 weeks, if not more. It runs deeper than that; I love stories, and great storytellers, and I aspire to be one myself.
• I love well made, clever, multi-layered films. I love collecting steelbooks. Steelbooks are gorgeous.
• I love technology, and I am extremely excited about what the future has to hold.
• I love design. I love to see people rack their brains and come up with elegant solutions to everyday problems. And if we could have elegant solutions to worldwide problems, I would love that even more. Side note: I love love love the arabesque style; geometric patterns repeated ad infinitum are just mesmerising to my eye
• I love creating stuff. Poetry, fiction, graphic work, logos, you name it. I love seeing my work out in the wild, though I am more than happy for people not knowing I made it.
• I love learning. About anything. And I really do mean anything; Art, Philosophy, Economics, History, Science, Design, Technology, Mathematics, Theology, Law, Literature, Poetry, Architecture, Language, Linguistics, Culture etc, etc. It matters not the topic, I will drink it up.

If I can help you, then I will help you. I do my best not to charge, but if I do charge you, then you should know you’ve got a fantastic deal anyway.

I've overextended myself somewhat on social media, and I don't like it as much as I used to. I'm now actively working on making my circles smaller. Mission almost achieved, I think.

I love my religion, but I fail it more than I should. I have come to accept that I will not make massive amounts of progress on my own. I will need her**** help to truly progress. In the meantime, I will do the best I can, and not be too harsh on myself when I do fall off.

I am haunted by certain decisions made in my past, and I regret them as I relive them, over and over again. Consequently, a substantial amount of my thoughts will dwell on redemption, forgiveness and absolution.

Given the above, I genuinely see no point in judging others. I am doing my best to only focus on improving myself. My own cross is enough to bear.

————

And so on. There is more, but this is enough. who knows what I will write next year, if indeed I do so.

Also, this is my 300th post. Wow. Who knew I would hit this milestone?

To the next year; hope yours is awesome.

With duas

I


* I have my doubts as to whether that sentence is grammatically correct, but I will let it stand.

** It is not my place to assign value judgements to certain habits, and so I am not going to label certain habits as good and others as bad. Universally, and instinctively, we all know of certain habits we would like to cultivate, and others that we would like to uproot.

*** (Righteous) anger has it’s place. But it is useless if you lose control of yourself. Whilst you should allow yourself to feel these emotions so that you can process and work through them, NEVER lose control of yourself or your emotions.

**** No. There is no “her”. I am speaking abstractly.

I will miss our conversations

I will miss our conversations
The generous ebb and flow
Of words and wit and wonder
Alas; I have no more.

I am curious though…

Did your eyes gleam and sparkle
To match your coruscating thoughts?
Did your brows knit and furrow
As you thought about your next words?
Did a playful smile dance on your face
Reflecting the banter we shared?
Did a giggle or more escape your lips
When something funny was said?

Like I said, I am curious
But only curious, just so

I will miss our conversations
The generous ebb and flow
But if the time to end has come
Then there will be no more