What They Don't Have...

- The years pass by, but the pain doesn't heal. What they have lost, our hearts will never feel.

I wake up in the morning complaining about the sun catching my eye, my Palestinian brothers and sisters wake up wondering if today’s the day they’re gonna die.

I go to the kitchen and think about what to eat; they look around and think “this is another day of starvation we’ve got to beat”.

I don’t listen to my parents, I don’t let their voices get heard, the children of Palestine whisper each sentence as if it could be their last word.

I cry over petty arguments, I cry if I get told off, they don’t want their tears to fall but they still cry in hope.

Minutes pass by and I don’t thank Allah for every breath, while they beg not to lose theirs in this terrible death.

While I lie down, planning another day again, my Palestinian brothers and sisters live another 24 hours in pain.

They weep for mercy, for forgiveness and for victory they plead, so why can’t we take a minute and do just one good deed?

Oh Palestine, don’t weep, stay calm, have faith in Allah [swt] for He shall shelter you from harm.

[Please make dua for the people in Gaza, while they suffer, we are living in comfort. We throw abuse at Isreal, we attend demonstrations and protests showing how we feel about the situation, but is this really helping? What matters more is our dua's, as sincere as they can be. We need to turn to Allah [swt] and inshaAllah He shall ease their pain and suffering and grant them the highest in Jannah. Ameen.]

High Hopes Against Time.

I reminisce the smiles and the jokes we've shared, and tears fall as I remember the good times. To this day, it feels so nice to know that even if we haven't seen each other for days or months, the bond we have between us never changes with time. Time and distance only strengthens what we share; it only tightens the sisterhood we have. I feel lucky to have you guys by my side, and I hope to share a million and one more moments with you all right here.

As we begin to complete one of our journeys, I close my eyes with a smile, with the comfort of knowing that no matter what, we've got each other. Let's enjoy what's left of our education and aim to strive for nothing but the best. With the guidance of Allah, I have the highest hopes that we will make it, and we will make it to the top.

I've realised, that sometimes it's okay to trip, and it's even more okay to stumble and fall, because we have each other to reach out a hand and help us get back up. It's true when they say you're here in this world alone, but at the end of the day, without those around us, we wouldn't be who we are today. And when I look at you girls, I feel proud to call you my best friends.

Here's to many more 'breaks in between the struggles of university' and here's to taking more pictures in the toilets! :D

- Nazira, Nuresa, Hamida, Farhana; nothing but love. xo

Twenty.

20. Twenty. TwEnTy. Two-Zero...

Nah, writing it any different won't make it sound any better. Omgosh. That's two whole decades. I feel pretty old right now.

It's always times like these when i feel really nostalgic and sad. These long summer days, standing in my mum's room; gazing out of the window and watching the night pass me by. That's how it used to be. Back in the old house, where memories still remain forever. I miss that place like mad. It's been just over three years since we moved here yet sometimes when im just sitting down on my bed or daydreaming, i still feel as though im back in our old house again. I had some of my bestest birthdays in that house.

Now, looking back, twenty years of my life have passed me by. Twenty years. I was talking to Mum the other day, asking her what exactly have i got to show for these years, and that's when i realised i have a lot more than i could ever think to ask for. Everything else i gather along the way are just bonuses. :)

Some things go without saying, so with a smile on my face and contentment in my heart; 20, as they say, is when life begins.

Politics: A Mug's Game.

There are times when silence has the loudest voice.

Indeed. Silence speaks volumes and sometimes, it's more about what people don't say; rather than what they do say. There's too much happening in the world right now and it's easy to listen to what the media tells us, but what matters the most is what they don't tell us.

I'm not a huge fan of politics, mainly because i don't understand it, but the latest movements around us disgust me. I think politics is a mug's game and the world would be a better place without it; but to introduce, establish and adhere to the rules of life, man is assumed to be political. I understand this political man to be an abstract man; the one who conforms to what he is told and does what he is told rather than to act based on his morals. This is exactly what i believe has led to the state of the world as it is. Because if man knew his true moral rights and obligations, then people wouldn't be fighting; they wouldn't be shooting; they wouldn't be bad-mouthing one another and they most certainly wouldn't be murdering the hearts and souls of those around us.

They always said don't expect anything, then you won't be left disappointed. But is it too much to ask when we pray for a bit of civilisation? Just to pass one another in the street with the exchanging of a smile and a salaam; instead of a dirty look and vulgar words?

This world has turned into a pretty ugly place and to change what's around us, we need to change what's within us. For now though, thoughts and prayers are with those who have lost their lives due to this mess that is created in the name of politics and international relations. And i question, what 'relations' exactly?

May the hearts of those gone from this world find peace in the HereAfter inshaAllah and may our Lord [swt] grant them the best of His Jannah. Ameen.

Rain On Me ♪

I used to think I'm stuck in a moment that used to pass me by, yet stand so still. It seemed like everything always remained the same, but when I looked back I realised everything changed.

I've just made some decisions about the next and final year of my academic life but I don't even know if I'm going to get through this one. There's a lot going on in my head right now and while I maintain my smile, I'm secretly fighting with my fears. Sometimes I wish it would rain on me, so that my fears can wash away. Not much makes sense inside my head but I know its all there for a reason. Before I seek salvation for the wars, there's one battle I need to win first; the battle with myself.

Lately, I've learnt a lot and I've realised something new: that for everything that Allah takes away, surely He gives something back. And that pretty much balances everything out. So I'm thankful for my trials, for my losses and for my pain coz I know now that after the storm...comes the clouds. And one day, it'll rain on me. :)

You say you ain't racist but i know the colour of my skin & the language that i speak bothers you.

I now know what racism means. I now know what a racist attack is. And I now realise just how much of a hardened heart full of hatred these racists have. You say you ain't racist but i know the colour of my skin & the language that i speak bothers you, so what you gonna do? Do you wanna smash my head in with a hammer too?

My little brother of 13 years was recently a victim of a racist attack. He was simply attacked because he was assumingly “Paki” and not of white colour skin. He was hit on the head with a hammer; causing the bone which protects the brain to break off and fall to the back of the brain. As his head shattered, our hearts shattered too. He was transferred to Great Ormond Street Hospital where he required emergency surgery which only by the Grace and Mercy of Allah [swt] was a success.

My brother is a normal teenager; he came home from school on a typical Friday afternoon. Only 13, he prays all his five prayers and he had just prayed Asr and salaamed Mum and said he’s going to meet his friends in the Square before going to his football training. He went into Gregg’s to get something to eat while his friends waited for him outside and during those few minutes, little did those kids know that they would be getting chased and abused, both physically and verbally, by another group of kids. While one white boy chased his friends, my brother stepped out of the shop and another white boy yelled out “Paki, you Paki” and before he knew it, the hammer fell on his head. Instinctively, he knew that if he fell to the floor, he would either faint or become unconscious, so he spun around and grabbed onto a pole which he used to balance himself while a crowd gathered to help him. All his friends, teachers from the school and members of the public ran to him and guided him into our house. During this, his friend told his Mum who called my Mum and told her and I could only just feel my mother’s pain. She yelled out my name and said T got hurt and ran out of the house leaving my youngest brother with me. I initially thought he probably fell and hurt himself or got beaten up by hand and as I shut the door and ran up to grab my keys and phone so I could follow my Mum, I saw her walking back home, another lady holding onto my brother while Mum’s tears were inconsolable. I looked at my brother and asked him if he’s okay, naively staring into his face and only just hearing him whisper the words “I’m okay, I’m okay” and it was at that moment, as I turned to let him into the door that I saw the thick blood stuck onto the left side of his face and his clothes. I sat him down on the sofa, asked him twice if he’s feeling okay and beyond that point, I had lost control of any humanity; all I could scream was “who the f*** did this to my brother, which pig hurt my baby brother?” As I pushed past my brother’s friends and other neighbours, I was grabbed and stopped from getting out of the house; the thoughts that ran through my head during those moments are unrepeatable. Before, I had never ever had any ill thoughts about individuals who have racist views; who cannot see past one’s skin colour, religion or culture, but today, I look around me and I cannot help but feel not hatred, but pity for those kind of people. There are people out there who speak of words along the lines of “I’m not racist, everyone’s equal” yet when they look at others, indeed they feel a sense of superiority and perhaps a better sense of belonging in this “white country” but with all due respect, this country promotes equality between every single person and if these people don’t agree with this then frankly, you are the ones who should get the eff out.

Every single day my brother keeps repeating “I feel like this is just a bad dream and I’m not waking up”. I don’t blame him; at 19 years of age even I can’t grasp onto the reality of what has happened. The boy who attacked him was a kid himself, 14 years old, only one year older than my brother. He got caught that night and the saddest thing is that he shows no remorse whatsoever, he is not even sorry for what he has done. In fact, this twisted kid is proud of the fact that he harmed another person; he’s actually going around boasting to others of his kind I presume, that he hit a boy with a hammer. I’ve always nurtured my feelings about racist people, I always thought to myself whatever you know, let them think what they think, it’s their problem… but when something like this happens on your doorstep it makes you think twice and doubt your thoughts.

I wish I could see the boy who did this or even his family, just to see what kind of people they are to allow their child to run around with a hammer in his hand and to think it’s okay. I know they’re not nice people but only Allah can judge them. I just think if they had any common decency, they would’ve come forward and apologised to us for the damage the boy has caused. I truly believe that the best form of justice will be given by Allah [swt] but I do want the boy put away for as long as possible, not only because of what happened to my brother, but also because I do not EVER want anything of this sort to happen to any other person whatsoever. After this settles down and some form of normality becomes our routine once again, I will do something myself to raise awareness of the effects of racism and to ensure that people of all ages – children, teenagers, adults and those of old age – know about the precautions they should take to be safe.

I’ve been trying to find many sources of blame, but I believe what happened, only happened for a reason. This is one of the calamities that were destined to be, it is a test of all of our faith and trust. I think my Dad, at one point said something along the lines of “if he was more cleverer, he would’ve ran"; but my brother is probably one of the most intellectual and smartest person I know and everybody knows this too. It was at that instance where my brother’s innocence shone; he had absolutely no idea that he would be the target of such an attack. And even if he did run; he would still be stuck because the surrounding area had railings all around. This incident happened in the best possible way it could’ve happened to us; I realise Allah saved us from a bigger disaster, imagine if it had been a knife or a gun that my brother was attacked with. Only Allah saved him from the worst, Alhamdulillah.

The next day I aimlessly wandered the area for a bit, I saw just how dead the Square seemed, totally contradicting the happy, joyous atmosphere we normally have in the Square. Since we moved here almost three years ago, we made a vast number of friends who have become practically family to us, and these people are not just of our own colour and religion. We have wonderful English, Somalian neighbours and friends, and my brother, from the first day he started in his new school, immediately clicked with a group of boys, who are totally amazing. I see his friends as my own little brothers; the friendship and brotherhood between these boys brings tears to my eyes. Even with this incident, the way his friends have stuck by him, some even started blaming themselves and saying they could’ve done more to help my brother, but these tiny kids themselves were being chased. It’s funny, for the past few days, Mum’s been having these feelings, call it a mother’s intuition, that something bad might befall us but never did she begin to contemplate that it would be something like this. I've realised i'm a lot like my Mum - whenever she's stressed/angry/upset, she starts cleaning and tidying up and when i came home the night after my brother's operation, i saw myself washing up plates that had already been washed, tidying up the living room which was pretty much tidied and wiping away my brother's blood from the passage walls.. i guess people do deal with different things in different ways.

Only just a few days ago I was telling a few of my friends about this beautiful hadith; that those with the strongest imaan have the greatest tests in life and those with weak imaan have light trials and indeed, Allah [swt] tests the ones He loves the most. I find great comfort in those words and I thank Allah for helping us through this; and I know the dua’s of every one of us, all our family and our friends, got us through this painful time.

*On a positive note, and before the questions reside: my brother's operation went really well and he came home on Sunday evening; he's recovering pretty well. Truly, all Praise is due to Allah, Lord of the Worlds; the Most Beneficient, the Most Merciful. Ameen.

Trying Is Succeeding.

It looks so beautiful outside; the snow falling so freely. I hope it sets so it lasts a little longer than the small flakes that just melt into a little drop of water. And I hope this feeling of serenity sets inside my heart too. It seems so peaceful outside; but there’s two little stray cats running around in the freezing cold and I wanna go out there and get them home. If I had one wish, I’d wish for all the suffering in this world to end. But I know I don’t have these kind of wishes; all I have is the power of prayers. And for sure, with the will of Allah [swt], this suffering will only bring peace and ease later in life.

There’s two ugly coursework’s sitting right at the back of my mind and right now, frankly, I just don’t care. I look back at the years and I remember during school days – primary; secondary… - how I’d take pride in my work; the amount of time I’d spend perfecting every sentence… and now, writing merely the title of my essay satisfies my understanding of the standards of a second year university student. I blame it on the education system and I blame it on my level of laziness which I can’t quite comprehend how I achieved.

Anyways. TwentyTen is upon us and they call it a new decade. But I swear a decade is ten years? If 2000 was the new decade and ten years onto that is when it’s 2011… :S Hhmm, I guess some things just aren’t meant to make sense. Or maybe it does make sense, if that makes sense? I dunno what’s happening. So. I think the past few months have shown me a lot and I’ve learnt a lot. As I reflect, I think of the bad changes and the good changes… I don’t wanna do one of those “ahh it’s been a great year; this year will be even better” thing… all I’m doing is delaying making a proper start on my damned coursework because I’m finding it SO hard. Truth. There was a time when I’d actually enjoy coursework but now… it’s like this passion has died in me, the ambitions lost and the dreams only remaining a dream…

I still think I should try… they say if at first you don’t succeed, try; try again. Persistence always pays off in the end and right now, I’m just gonna put that theory into test.