Is this world a simulation?

As a believing and practicing Muslim who also loves science fiction, I find the recent musings of some key figures (such as Elon Musk and Neil deGrasse Tyson) that "this world is a simulation" very fascinating. These quasi-philosophers (and I like to play one on the internet) say that we are all avatars, or characters, in some big simulation and nothing is "real".

We know from our religion that our souls (programs?) are created separate from our bodies (avatars) that exist only in this world. We know that the sun and the moon are precisely programmed (Quran, 55:5). In this world, everything we do is recorded by the angels in a scroll (our activity log).

We know that God created the universe in 6 days. In Islam, we have long accepted that these "days" are not like our 24 hour days, unlike Christianity. And part of the reason is that we know this universe took millions of years to take shape. And God says His day is not like our days. But consider that on His day 1 He ran Day1.exe. On His day 2, He ran day2.exe. I am just speaking in terms a computer layman can understand, but you get the point. The time inside a simulation does not mean the same time outside the simulation. We know this from our own simulations, such as SimCity or The Sims. And you don't even need time dilation to explain this.

Since Allah is the creator of everything (39:62, 13:16 etc), He is also the Creator of Time and Space.. He is not bound by constraints of Time and Space. That exists for us inside our reality (our simulation?).

Just to throw a spanner in the works: If it were proven that we live in a simulation, that would prove a creator, but not a perfect creator. Since our Creator is perfect, one would expect that the simulation would be perfect. If a simulation is only detected by its flaws, we would probably never know.

Then, Allah says in the Quran: "And what is the life of this world except the enjoyment of delusion." (Quran, 3:185).

The final answer: We probably wouldn't know. And after death (game over), we probably wouldn't care, except our final score!

How To Do Arranged Marriage Wrong (Especially Girls)

I once wrote an article defending arranged marriage in response to a nonsense CBC 'article'. In this post, I want to talk about some of the regressive attitudes and behaviours that make arranged marriages a fiasco in some South Asian families.

Warning: The writing may be blunt and to the point. It may make you uncomfortable, especially if you are one of the liberal secular feminist type. It's the truth.

More and more it seems arranged marriages in the South Asian diaspora are becoming a type of "last resort". The boy has played the field and now wants some "domesticated girl" so turns to his mother for help. The girl has been with a boyfriend for so long but suddenly the mother of the said boyfriend decided her "golden boy" would be better off with someone she chose, and the boyfriend is too spineless to say otherwise, so now the girl is left looking for a poor sucker who has no idea where she has been before.

Now these people are in the same 'market' as the boy and girl who has kept away from any physical relationships, kept themselves pure and looking to get married, but finding it extremely difficult to do so.

Parents of Girls

Don't reject a good proposal from a boy just because he is not a doctor or engineer. Despite it being 2017 2018, there is ... unbelievably ... desi parents who still are looking for a doctor or engineer for their princesses. Any other proposal from a thousand other good professions, be it teacher (2 months off, hey), public policy (stable job for life yay), consultant (travel the world, wow), lawyer (moolah much), writer (intelligent people), and so on are all rejected. Automatically, without even a glance. Now that is serious limitation to a good prospect for your girl. In the end she does end up marrying a doctor ten years older than her. Good, bad?

The other thing they do is they tell, convince, argue, threaten and cajol their daughters to please ... PLEASE ... do not get involved in any relationship ... we WILL find someone good for you, and the poor daughter believes it.

And then when it's time to look for a groom, they have all these reasons to reject perfectly good candidates:

He's not a doctor or engineer (civil doesn't count).
He's still living with his parents.
He does not want to leave his job and resettle to where WE are living.
He's not from our biraderi, gram, upojela and so on.

Meanwhile the girl who managed to land herself a good boy is looked at upon jealously.

Oooh oder to chokkor choltesilo (oooh they were having an affair)

Parents of Boys (especially the mother)

Your son is not the Prince of Persia. He's not even the best looking boy in your street. Yet you reject any girl who falls short of Aishwarya Rai standard. You are rejecting girls because you saw her once at a party and she was talking too much. You rejected a girl because she was from Borishal and everyone knows Borishali girls are like this (replace Borishal with Noakhali, Chittagong, Dhaka, NSU, Foridpur, English Medium, as appropriate). You are rejecting girls because they are only three years younger than your son and everyone knows 4 is the ideal number. You are rejecting a girl because she is a Project Manager at BoA and everyone knows career oriented women do not make good wives.

And when I say everyone knows I mean your fellow aunty circle and the good old Indian television serial.

Meanwhile the poor boy doesn't even know of any of this and is wondering why there is a shortage of girls and he should just have tried his luck with the Vietnamese girl in his study group.

Please ... PLEASE ... have an honest discussion with your son to find out what matters to HIM. Half the stuff people write in their biodata is pretty much useless. Who cares what your uncle's son's occupation or grandfather's place of birth was.

Girls

You are at a serious disadvantage in this process. Just accept it. Guys and their families (usually) hold all the cards. If you are aware of this fact, you can definitely not screw up even more.

One definite way to screw up is to have a relationship before and then broadcast it to the world, and then something happens, and now you are screwed. Your heart is a precious real estate - not just anyone and everyone should be let into it. Be very wary of falling for playboys and smooth talkers and please, for goodness sake, stop watching rubbish Indian serials. Life is not Bollywood. Life is more like the Quentin Tarantino movie.

If a smooth talking boy charms you, it's not spiritual abuse - you have been played. Be smart.

Also, Liberal feminists like to say to women that a) you are all pretty b) you are all good just the way you are. OK ... false, and false.

First - looks matter, whether you are a guy or a girl. So, rule number one. Please shape up. Maintain yourself physically. Now I know this is rich coming from me, but it is the uncomfortable truth that looks do matter more for women than men.

Second, be educated. It's a common myth that man-hating feminists like to spread that men are scared of a women who is educated. We are not. No man I know is turned off because a woman has a Ph.D. It's usually other reasons.

Third, have an opinion.
DO
NOT
BE
A
DOORMAT.

Another common fallacy by feminists is that men are turned off by women who are opinionated, strong willed or confident. No... we are turned off by women who are cocky. There's a big difference. If you want to know, its the answer to this question.

Question: What do you think of Justin Trudeau ?
Wrong Answer: Oh he's so cute .. heheheh
Right Answer: I think he has governed well enough, but I don't like the fact that he couldn't get a pipeline built in Alberta ... and so on.

Contrary to what feminists say, a young pretty intelligent girl will win over a young pretty dumb girl any day.

And that's the last point. Be young. If you know marriage is something you want to do, do it when you are young.

Boys

Please grow up.

Really.

I could go on and on but half the problems would be solved if desi boys would simply grow up, let go of their mother's apron strings and grow a spine.

Should Kids Be Banned From First Class?

 
As a dad who just flew halfway across the world with two young boys, I can tell you that flying with kids isn't easy. While the older one kept himself busy with movies and games and toys (thank you Emirates!), the younger one couldn't understand why he was cooped in that small place without any seat (that's why we flew when you are less than two, kid, coz it's cheaper!).

I think 8 hours was our longest flight (Toronto to London) and it was the maximum we could really handle. We broke up our flight to India into pit stops. Couple of days in London, some days in Dubai, and then to India, and same on the way back. And I think this kept us sane; we wouldn't have been able to handle a 15 hour direct flight back with a screaming infant. And then a screaming toddler because the screaming infant bit him. Fun!

So when I read on the news about a bunch of passengers miffed about a crying baby in first class (and Delta's awful reaction to that), I could understand. You paid $10,000 to ride first class, and you want to ride in comfort. Screaming baby, especially someone else's screaming baby, does not equal comfort. Though if you paid that much for a Delta seat of all airlines I really have to question your logic, I mean Delta?!!

But you know what, deal with it. You paid for your seat, not someone else's. An aircraft is a shared place and there's all types of people. Just like the uncle who keeps burping in the mosque (and who I really want to take out ban, but can't), you have to tolerate noises from other folks that are discomforting to you.

One flight I spent next to someone who wouldn't take the hint and kept trying to make conversation with me (in case you can't tell, I am an introvert kind of person on a flight, and also not on a flight). Another time this lady behind me did nothing to control her wild toddler who kept kicking my seat. That's what goes on in a public space - you have to deal with inconveniences.

I have noticed this same trend go to other discussions, such as the insane proposal to ban strollers on public transit. Now, granted, some strollers look like SUVs, and some inconsiderate moms really just "park" their stroller at the entrance while blocking the pathway on the bus for others, but most are simply ordinary folks trying to use the public transit just like you and me.

I am often trying to sleep on the subway ride home, but sometimes there's two chatterboxes who sit adjacent to me and talk in a loud voice all the way. I mean, like, you know, it's like ... what the hell .. you spend the entire Islington to Kennedy talking about nothing. But you can't really start implementing "quiet zones" on the TTC subways.

So if a parent wants to pay and take their screaming kid on first class, why not. Deal with it.

Back To The Future For Geocities

Nostalgia seems to be pretty big nowadays. Today I was surprised to see an article on nostalgia for Web 1.0.

Er, Web 1.0, you ask. What is that?

That used to be the day. This was the internet of the late 90s and early 2000s. Those were the days before Google took shape (I remember using Alta Vista search engine) and blogging was just lurking around the corner. If you wanted a website, you had to build your own. You had to know HTML, DHTML and perhaps JavaScript (nowadays you just need a blogger or wordpress account). The best example was of course Geocities.

I had a Geocities account. Curiosity got the better of me and I used an internet archiver to see what my website looked like in 2002.

I also had a little bit of space on the university website (both as a student and as a TA) and this is what it looked like (the archiver is missing some of the images as well as styles).

What I find amazing is just the sheer amount of personal information I used to put online back then! One can argue we put more information online nowadays on Facebook and LinkedIn but those are behind a password protected account and shared with friends only (or so we think). From my site in 2002 you would know the names of my friends, my class schedule, where I worked, what my interests were, where we went for holidays and what I thought about the World Cup (well, some things don't change). ANY one could have seen that and all that was preventing them from visiting my site was not knowing the exact URL.

Ironically, I see that the time when Google broke through was when Geocities began to die, and blogging started to take root. I have already been blogging since 2004 (more than a decade now; my first post was on a cricket match).

I wonder what I will be posting as nostalgia in another ten years! Perhaps we will be looking back on the glory days of Facebook!

10 Signs You Are A Bangladeshi in Canada

1. You mom always watched Indian or Pakistani TV serials, because NTV and ATN Bangla came so late to the scene. You always made fun of those because Pakistani serials were all about loving your cousin and Indian serials was about designer dresses.

2. Whenever your mama or chacha called from Bangladesh (or rather, your dad called them because, face it, people back home are cheap), you ran away to hide. And your parents would somehow track you down because, let's face it, kotha boltey hobey.

3. You dad always paid $17/month (initially) for ATN Bangla (and then NTV) just to watch the news. Which was always the same crap. Some protest, lathi charge, 4 people dead, 3 people ahoto, and the Prime Minister on CNN saying her party is not corrupt.

4. Whenever your best friend tells you he or she is going to get married, there goes every long weekend of your summer.

5. Sometimes you reminisced nostalgically about your childhood in Bangladesh, and shared videos on Facebook like this one. But that's usually when the weather outside looked like this.

6. You have an abusive relationship with the Bangladesh cricket team. Where they abuse you by contriving to lose humiliatingly, sometimes from utterly winnable positions, and you promise to yourself you will never support them again. Come the next series again, you are back on Cricinfo, promising this time the "boys will do it".

7. But (on the rare occasion) when they do win, you party like only a Bengali can.

8. You never got tired of the opportunity to remind Indians how Anu Malik copied a song in the movie Murder from a Miles song ("Firiye Dao"). If you ever got tired of reminding them who kicked them out of the 2007 World Cup (and conveniently forgetting the 2011 World Cup).

9. Speaking of Bangladeshi bands, they don't make 'em like they used to any more (LRB, Miles, Prometheus). Those were the glorious 2000s.

10. You still need your dad when you go to buy a car, because he knows how to bargain the way you never will.

BONUS 11. Raymond's mom had nothing on the guilt trips your mom can engineer.

BONUS 12. Your sister has enough bangles to open ten churi stalls.

 

Sexism on Display

So today, the whole world watched as FIFA made the group draws for the 2014 World Cup in Brazil. It was a glitzy affair, but one thing struck me. Have a look.

Why is the woman barely dressed and the man fully dressed?
Why is the woman a blonde representing a country where white blondes are a minority (Brazil)?
Why is the woman asking the dumb questions and the rich older man explaining? Whoever thought this was a good idea?

The countries that often try to stake a higher moral position on women's issues and feminism are often the most promoting of objectifying women's bodies.

Packing and Ashes

Wife: "So, you know we have to buy gifts for ALL your cousins and ALL of MY cousins ..."

Me: "Don't worry, I have the Excel spread sheet ready."

Wife [shocked]: "Excel .... spreadsheet?"

Me: "Yes, everyone's name is entered, along with number of kids, number of gifts required, with currency rate and value of gift in taka and dollars."

Wife: "You know, at some point you have to go and actually buy the gifts, right?"

[Silence]

Me: "I hate shopping."

Man, I hate shopping. Every Christmas, I tell myself I am so glad I am not a Christian so I don't have to go out into the malls and brave the crowds to buy something. And EVERY Christmas I have to go and buy some thing.

I would rather be doing this... which actually I was last week.


Yup, watching the Ashes, with Cricinfo running commentary on one screen and the video on the other. And yes, my comments (feedback) was actually printed by the Cricinfo people.


Yes, there was no point to this post ... except to remind me that I am YET to start packing, YET to confirm the hotels... YET to print the flight details ...

The iPhone Disease

If you are like me, you probably have a lot of friends (usually of the female variety) who are hooked on to their iPhones, swear by it and at every possible moment try to impress upon you as to how urgently you require an iPhone.

Now I can still have my (very) old phone, and an even older plan, as a result of which I would not pay Robbers Rogers a huge hefty monthly bill in data plans, and can concentrate on paying down my even heftier student loan first. However, this post is not about the telecommunications industry in Canada nor a discussion on where the idea of not being online all the time was viewed as common sense, but of a particular and a very contagious disease.

The iPhone disease.

This disease (it can be classified as a mental illness) manifests itself in many ways. Following are some symptoms.

I Have an App For That

Every normal conversation with an iPhone holder is interrupted with this favourite phrase of theirs. For example,

You: "I want to see how Ironman 2 is."

iPhone User: "Oh wait, I can tell you. I have an App for that. It's called Movie Review For Dummies iMovie."

[5 minutes of caressing the iPhone later]

iPhone User: "it has 3.5 stars ..."

You: "Hmm. I have some time to kill. I wonder where it's playing."

iPhone User: "Oh wait, I can tell you. I have an App for that. It's called Theatre For Dummies iTheatre."

[5 more minutes of caressing the iPhone later]

iPhone User: "it's playing in X, Y and Z. Do you want to book tickets? Coz... I have an App for that as well."

Touching the iPhone

Every iPhone user has to touch the iPhone every 5 minutes or less. It's a built in withdrawal symptom. Try it - talk to an iPhone user for 5 minutes and see if they don't whip out the monstrous brick every 5 minutes or less. You may be having a perfect conversation with them but they will still take it out, check something on it and then remark to you, "Oh isn't that funny? Look what Mike posted!"

Do I care what Mike posted? I was talking to you!

If it's not checking their email, or boasting about an app (see above), it's tweeting. Again, you will be having dinner, and the iPhone user will be tweeting:

"having dinner with @so-and-so. #fun!"

Why do you do this? It would be pathetic if not for the other iPhone user tweeting back:

"@iPhoneUser1 you too? Me too! #goodtimes #fun"

It's all an excuse to touch the iPhone.

Comparing Notes

As soon the iPhone user comes into contact with another iPhone user, there is some sort of signal which allows them to ascertain that the other person also belongs to this not-so-exclusive club. They will instantly both whip out their iPhones (see point above) and start comparing notes.

"Oh, what a nice skin."

"Oh, that's a nice screen filter."

"Oh, do you have this app? You must get this app. It tells you how much battery the other apps are using!"

"Oh really, nice! Btw you MUST get this app. It makes snide remarks about anyone not having phone with a data plan!"

"Oh lovely! But you MUST get this latest app. It automatically calculates how much happiness the iPhone is giving you and transfers an equivalent amount of money to Apple immediately."

"SWEET!"

So, if you and your friends have an iPhone, do check that you do not succumb to this deadly disease. It's very curable, I tell you.

- Posted from my iPhone

The Funeral

It was just yesterday I was attending Eid prayers. Today, I have just come back from attending a funeral prayer.

After a whole Ramadan when Allah was always warning us to take death seriously and in the rush for this material world not to forget the hereafter, it was a shock to have some one quite near to you suddenly leave for his heavenly abode. It was all very unexpected.

If you have the time, please say a prayer for my friend's father-in-law, who unexpectedly passed away yesterday morning.

When a person passes away, it's usually polite or customary to embellish the deceased's good qualities and forget the bad ones. Here, no embellishment is necessary. This person, who we all called 'uncle', was a genuinely nice, kind, good and simple hearted man, who was always jolly, jovial and had a smile on his face. He was a pillar of our small ex-UAE Bangladeshi community, and played in role in organizing any and every festive occasion or gathering.

He was someone whom if you met, and then learned he was Muslim, you would then develop a very favorable opinion of Muslims. A testimony to his good nature was the huge, huge number of people, well wishers and mourners, who gathered at a Scarborough mosque for his janazah (funeral) prayer, on a rainy Monday, at an odd time of 2 pm, on a work day.

I always thought the beauty of Islam is its simplicity. There are people who are bent on making things complicated, usually by a too literal interpretation or not adhering to the spirit of the law - and in my eyes it is against those people intent on making this hard on themselves that Surah Baqarah is aimed at. Today, in the funeral prayer, I witnessed the final rites of a Muslim on this world, and marveled at how beautiful and divine this simplicity really is, when my friend's father made a heart touching speech before the prayer, about his son's late father-in-law.

There was no need to extol what a great man the late person was. Those, who were his friends, knew. Those who were not but were just present in the mosque, all that was needed from them was their prayers. That's what my friend's dad asked for. He also asked if anyone had any claims against his estate. And, finally, with his voice breaking, he also asked anyone to forgive any mistakes his late "brother" may have done against any one. And after those two simple minutes, it was time for the prayer. With his family saying their final goodbyes, the congregation headed to the cemetery.

In the end, all that was left, after everything was over, were a few quiet moments of personal reflection.

"O my people! Lo! this life of the world is but a passing comfort, it is the Hereafter that is the Home that will last." [Quran 40:39].

An Interview

There's nothing like enjoying a three week vacation with no studies to worry about. It helps though that the weather has been really, really good! August is almost always a depressing month because summer is coming to an end (and as a sign of that, the CNE is here!).

I recently got interviewed by Ghazala Khan of the Pak Spectator here.

I don't have much to add here; will return with a new series of posts on Ramadan when it gets here, however, I do want to say one thing to the journalists.

The Beijing Olympics is over!!! Please don't bother me with articles about reminiscing on the Games, or "looking back", or a "review". It's over.

Frivolous Friday - 2

You know your country's PROFESSIONAL cricket team is a bad one when their stated aim is to beat the United Arab Emirates team - a team made up of expats and construction workers and accountants with a little extra time on their hands.

* * *

The Euro 08 tournament is really shaping up very well. Just six more games to go and already so many goals and champagne moments. And yes, Portugal is out (YEEAAAH). I am sick of Christiano Ronaldo and his theatrics in the field and I do NOT see what women see in him (actually I do but I choose not to).

* * *

A man has supposedly shed 80 lbs on a Mc Donald's diet. If you believe that I have a bridge in Scarborough I want to sell to you for cheap.

* * *

I never heard of this guy before. Cool - it gives me something to 'research' on the weekend. Especially since our team lost by 1 RUN on our quarter final. 1 BLOODY RUN.

Frivolous Friday

I have decided that Friday is going to be Frivolous Friday. At least that will get me posting on some regular basis. So this post will contain all sort of random musings collected together in one spot.

Any regular reader of my blog will know my grouse with Dubai - the city that is holding a debate on preserving national values but still advertises the Emirates non-stop flight to Dubai from Toronto as "the only thing between you and Dubai is a gourmet meal, a nice glass of wine, ..."

From Gulf News, here's a good read - Dubai cabbies tell all.

* * *

If you have some time to kill on Saturdays and Sundays, you can watch our new tapeball cricket league in action. Our website: Toronto TBCT.

* * *

Here's something I have always argued - faster roads are safer. Canadians are sissies when it comes to speed limits - a mere 100 km per hour! I have driven all over the Middle East where the speed limit is set at 120 kph, and cars take that as a minimum speed. Granted, the Middle East may not have the safest roads anywhere (even without women driving in some of those countries!) but all over Europe they drive faster. I have driven in southern USA where 75 miles (120 kph) is the limit and cars go about 85 moh or so. Toronto sucks if you have a nice car - go 150 kph and they can pull you over now and slap all sort of fines and criminal charges. 150! I drove all the way to Dubai from Abu Dhabi going 145 kph on a Yaris. Abu Dhabi is great there - good cars, cheap gas, and scanty speed limit enforcement.

If You Are Reading This ...

Dear C,

By the time you read this, I will have been long gone. I am sorry for doing this, but you have left me no choice. I know it will come as a bit of shock to you, especially because you have been such a materialistic self-absorbed bitch, but I am sorry - I just needed a change. I think you are pretty cool, but I just don't think we are right for each other.

First of all, I am compatible with Cancer and Leo, while you are cool with Capricon and Aquarius. I like long walks on the beach, you like making snowmen. I like action blockbusters, while you like Christmas feel-good movies. As for my favourite sport - do you even know what my favourite sport is?

This is not about you or about me "winning or losing", or about one of us being wrong - it is about two ways of being ... which do not fulfill each other, or go together. Though I had been open to having you visit with the thought that possibly we could 'try' again, after thinking about it a lot, I realize that it is not a good idea. I am very clear that we are not 'right' for each other.

Sincerely,

S.

Note: C = Canada, S = Summer.

Do You Believe in Feng Shui?

I have started to become a big believer in that whole Feng Shui thing. I have been very grumpy and tired recently, and I have noticed that it may have something to do with the state of my room. I haven't really gotten down to cleaning up my room, ever since I came back, and everything is still in a clutter all around. ORGANIZED clutter though, I should add.

I mean like, I can say, "Oh, the charger for my cell? It's in pile no. 3. Should be under the receipt for the DVD writer I bought 4 years ago." See what I mean, everything is in a mess in my room, but I know where is it.

Or may be my grumpiness has to do with the fact that I have an exam tomorrow that I am absolutely NOT prepared for, and I am blogging when I should rather be studying.

I can't help it - the more I study - the more I don't know - and the more I am tempted to Facebook or blog. I mean, I am even secretly willing other people to update their blogs so I can have something else to read beside cost curves and consumer surplus and willingness to pay.

My life is now progressing from deadline to deadline. On this day I have this exam. Then from this day to that day I have this assignment due. Then start studying for this other exam. I mean, it's gotten to the state where I am unhappy November has 30 days, as that means 1 less day till December 4 which is when my term project is due. Oh yea, I work too, so have to squeeze those 8 hours in somehow. And it doesn't also help that Ahmed praised Heroes so much, that I got the whole season 1 on DVD, and now am hooked.

I will be so glad once the break starts.

On another note, I am leaving, again, for yet another conference during the Christmas holidays. And no, I have not confirmed the hotel yet, and still have to clear the credit card bills from the last trip. You deal with travel agents and shocking bank statements and international hotel receptionists who can't speak English and study 200 pages of demand equal to P=100-2Q with marginal cost = marginal revenue, and you will start to believe in Feng Shui as well.

Things That Puzzle Me

1. Why is it that no matter how much I work out, it's either:
   
   a. My weight drops but my tummy remains the same,
   
   OR
   
   b. My tummy shapes up but my weight shows no sign of dropping!
   
   
2. Why are people in a hurry in the morning? What are you rushing to... to WORK? You want to be early FOR WORK?!!! Slow down, enjoy the sights... such as ... the following.
   
   
3. Catholic school girls. Aren't you supposed to be going to a, oh-I-don't-know, RELIGIOUS school? Then why is your skirt so short? And it's the mandated uniform?!!!
   
   My question is: with that skirt, how do you keep warm in the winter? I know you think you are hot, but are you that hot?
   
   
4. The Toronto police are calling a suspected revenge killing involving a gang member "disturbing". Why is it disturbing when a gang member shoots another gang member? I say let 'em shoot each other up and you arrest the last guy standing.
   
   
5. Why do pedestrians get a mind freeze when crossing the street? Just because it's your right-of-way doesn't mean I can stop a 3-tonne car on the slippery ice going downhill if you just decide to step out in front of my car when the lights are green. You'll be right ... DEAD right.
   
   
6. Why do I start getting hungry at exactly 11.45 am?
   
   
7. When is my nagging cold going to go away?

Things I Missed About Toronto

Yes, I am back! While a trip abroad without the stress of work and school can be fun, it's always good to be back. Home Sweet Home and all that. Here's what I missed about Toronto:

1. Hot water and cold water from the taps.
   
   Unlike hot water and even hotter water (Dubai) or just ice cold water (Dhaka).
   
   
2. Proper sized tea MUGS.
   
   Unlike the plastic cups (Dubai) or the miniature airplane-cup-sized-cups (Dhaka).
   
   
3. Courteous drivers on the road.
   
   Unlike rodeo drivers (UAE) or naam-ka-wasta drivers (Dhaka).
   
   I just drove for a week in UAE and already my driving skills have deteriorated. People are amazed here if I speed up and try to cut in (oops). And I wouldn't have thought it was possible to drive rashly at 20 kmh, but Dhaka proved me wrong.
   
   
4. Tim Hortons.
   
   No comment! :-D
   
   
5. PROPER Chinese food.
   
   It's amazing how Bangladeshis are convinced there's no Chinese food like Bangladeshi Chinese food. It is almost a sign of patriotism to sing praises of Chinese restaurants in Dhaka. I have been to a few. SWEET! It's like they dip everything in sugar. Think Manchurian Roshogolla and you get the idea. Blech! Toronto is great that way, you got authentic cuisines from everywhere in the world.
   
   Of course Abu Dhabi is still the King when it comes to food. Even the pizza of UAE tastes ten times better. Next time I have to schedule a few days in Abu Dhabi just to eat. *drool*
   
   
6. My car.
   
   May not deserve it's own entry but there's nothing like slipping into the driver's seat of your own car and just taking in the familiarity of it all.
   
   
7. Just going to bed.
   
   Without having to bother with mosquito nets, Aerosol or the coil that gives you second-hand-smoke.
   
   
8. Old people not farting or burping whenever they feel like it.
   

Goodbye Inzamam

It was a crisp Spring day that March in 1992 and I was just another ten year old waiting to be picked up by my father outside our school yard. As soon as I saw his blue Toyota I ran up and opened the door. Even as he was asking me how my day had been I blurted out, "What's the score?"

He shook his head. "New Zealand has made 262, and Pakistan has already lost their opener."

He drove home quickly, and I ignored all of mom's admonitions as I switched on the TV. Pakistan were in desperate straits - 140-4 and not too many overs left. Pakistan had reached this semi-final with the Mother of All Good Lucks; they needed to win every match and needed EVERY other result to go their way - and it all had happened. But now, New Zealand seemed poised to stop their march to the finals.

Enter Inzamam.

A whirlwind 60 runs of 37 balls later, Pakistan was in the driver's seat, and never looked back.

Those were my first memories of Inzamam. I have grown up watching cricket and of the few of legends that played cricket along this time, Inzamam and Tendulkar would probably rate the most for giving me the greatest pleasure. And now Inzamam is retiring, and Tendulkar may do so soon.

Inzamam was unique - he was a chubby fellow who seemed reluctant to run. When in cricket you win by having more runs than the opposition, he was the enigma. A fat man who just stood at one end and biffed the bowlers all over the park he gave the rest of us mere mortals, the aspiring sports stars without the six-pack or the biceps - the Hope - that yes, we too can make it. He was our hero.

I began to hate the Pakistan team in the mid-90s. A team full of arrogant stars who thought they were the be-and-all of cricket. And in the midst of all those egos, one humble man set himself apart - Inzamam.

I remember his quiet personality before the 2007 World Cup, when someone had accused the team of becoming too religious. "Those who say such things are neither religious nor have they played cricket" was his response. Alas, the World Cup was not too kind for him, and forced him to have an emotional retirement in his last ODI game.

Today, Pakistan once more find themselves in a strife. They lost the first match against South Africa, and need to win here in Lahore to draw the series. South Africa are already ahead by a tall score. The openers are unreliable against a pacy South African attack.

Enter Inzamam. Will he save the day for Pakistan yet again, just as he has done many a time for the last decade, for the last time? In four days, we will know. But for now, I will forget the context, the match situation, the sub-plots. Instead, I would watch Inzamam the legend bat - for the very last time.

A Kulkhani at the Mosque

Yesterday, word suddenly reached me that someone close to my neighbour, a good friend of ours, had left for his heavenly abode. Since the departed had been ill, this was expected, nevertheless a sad time for all his relatives and friends.

A kulkhani was quickly organized at the Foundation, which I had to rush to attend, and my neighbour sponsored the iftar there. As I tucked into my generous portion of food, I wondered - how lucky was the brother who had passed away?

There is no custom of an eulogy in Islam, but so many of his friends and relatives who had come to the mosque spoke of how he had made a positive affect on their lives. They were not just being polite - one could see they truly shared the pain and grief of the family - yet held genuine affection in their eyes. Many had taken time out of their busy schedules to drive to the other part of the town just to pay their respects, and eagerly rolled up their sleeves and shared in the volunteer duties that sponsoring an iftar entailed.

They say the proper way to come into this world is for you to be crying, but for everyone else to be smiling. If, on the other hand, if you can leave this world with a smile while everyone else is in tears, as you are eager to meet your Lord, you have done well.

What matters to our Lord, I realized, is the intention behind our actions. Yet for others, our actions speak a great deal. All the lives that this man had touched, and changed in a very positive manner, spoke of a very philanthropic man who didn't hesitate to do the right thing, to share a bit of the blessings that Allah had given him.

Today, as I look around, I see that many a times, our actions do not jive with our words. Yes, Islam is a beautiful religion and yes, Islam does tell us to behave well with our neighbours, treat women with respect, never harm or discriminate based on ethnicity, never to lie or cheat in our business, to always educate ourselves and seek knowledge, to welcome the birth of a daughter with equal joy as that of a son, to not turn our eyes away from the suffering of others and to wish for others what we wish for ourselves.

Yet our actions do not match these ideals. We are eager to recount how the Indonesians accepted Islam not under the sword but influenced by the behaviour of the Arab traders - yet today our adaab - our manners - leave a lot to be desired. We are proud of our ancient scientists and philosophers, yet today we stifle education for half our children and freedom of speech is a defunct concept.

Yes, some of the problems are not ours, the Western world does provide blanket support to many a dictator in the Muslim world, but others are in our hands. We can all improve our personal behaviour to be an example to our neighbours. We can all contribute to welfare programs run by our community centres.

We can all be a positive influence on our society. Let's hope this Ramadan can bring forth a few of the jewels amongst us to light.

A Little Early Story

The chilly winds of an early Fall morning in Toronto failed to numb her cheeks - they were covered under a thin black cloth. The woman in the niqab walked down the street, oblivious to the stares of other pedestrians; she was late for her volunteer shift at the food shelter.

Mona, the young girl who saw the niqabi cross the street shook her head. She was Muslim too, but why did the niqabi not integrate like Mona? The niqabi was probably born in one of those hardline Muslim countries, Mona decided.

She could be like her - Mona prayed five times, ate halal food, did not date, yet had a normal life. The niqabi could be like her neighbor over there, standing by the bus stop, wearing the pink hijab yet friendly in her appearance. As she walked to her office, Mona nodding a greeting at her hijabi friend.

"She probably thinks I am out to get attention," The pink hijabi thought. "I am not admonishing her for not covering her head, why does she never say salaam to me?"

The man behind the hot dog cart rubbed his hands in front of the stove on his cart. Business was winding down with the summer, and even early openings did not break him even. Abdul had thought the 'halal' sign on his cart would attract more customers, yet the many Muslims he saw exiting the mosque opposite the road did not even glance at him. "Must be because I am a shia," he thought.

"Should I, or should I not?" thought Tariq, as he got a coffee from Tim Horton's. "That guy is so tempting, and halal too!" He then thought of the barely subtle hints his wife had dropped about his growing waistline, and decided to skip a hot dog for lunch today. He passed another bus stop on the way back to work. A man with a thick beard was getting the looks from everyone. Tareq laughed, "Silly immigrants! Why don't they shave and be rid of the hassle?"

It was time for zuhr. Tareq made his way to the small room that served as the neighborhood mosque. He hadn't been there - just last week an old Somalian janitor saw him praying in the hallway and told him about it. He stopped.

The bearded man was the imam. As he removed his jacket, Tareq saw that the bearded man was actually a white guy, and sported a Maple Leafs jacket! Tareq took his place beside the hot dog guy. God! He smelled of hot dog! The women lined up behind.

They all prayed to the same God. For some ten, quiet minutes, there was no Shia, no Sunni, no hijabi, no niqabi - just men and women, subservient before Allah.

Outside, a man pointed at the building and turned to his wife.

"That's the Muslim mosque." He turned up his nose. "The lot! Why don't they go back home?"

Canadian Desis Returning To The Gulf

Khaleej Times recently published a very interesting article on Canadian desis returning to the Gulf.

SUCCESSFUL Gulf-based Asians often have a tax-free lifestyle second to none. BMWs, fancy condos, five star travel, household help, minimum one month long paid vacation time and a hectic party/club scene are a normal way of life. The only thing lacking perhaps is a sense of belonging and the premonition that all this is ephemeral.

I wish when I was there in the Gulf, someone had told me how to enjoy this five star travel lifestyle (not to forget the 'hectic party/club scene'). The BMW wouldn't have been bad either!

The truth is in the first word of that sentence - 'Successful'. Now you have to define success, but on the whole I would not argue that an average South Asian family in the Gulf probably enjoys a lot of comforts that they would not enjoy back in Canada. The company usually pays rent, tickets to go back to desiland during the month long summer vacations, tax free income, eating out whenever you feel like it (without worrying about halal / haram or your burger being real meat instead of what is called a 'byproduct'). The trade off is of course living under the constant subjugation of Arabs (called 'Rafeek', 'miskeen') or being in trouble with the law (life is good as long as it's good - any trouble, you're fucked).

To me the writing appears mostly as a fluff piece (even though it raises some interesting issues). I, for one, would have liked the writer to interview more families who had returned to the Gulf and been there for a while now. Do they still like it? Do their Canadian-born kids like it?

There is no doubt that Canada has a problem hiring the immigrants it allows in. The first generation always struggles. As for the second generation? Even I now sometimes think it may not be a bad idea to move back for a bit, make some money and come back, even though last year I was of the opinion I would never move back. After some time, the long winters start to get at you.

"Going back was not an option, none of that one foot here and one foot there business," says Jasmine candidly.

"However, initially, we did have our share of adversity. The usual things - no jobs, no recognition of our credentials (she was a teacher in Saudi), savings rapidly going down the drain, having to pay rent for 12 months up front, post-9/11 retrenchment."

The Sawants, with their two sons, Aniruddh, and Siddhant, now 19 and 16 respectively, bit the bullet and consciously made a decision to adopt the Canadian way of life.

And this last part is where I agree - many of the 'successful' immigrant families I see - where the couple has "made it" - usually stems when both the husband and wife immerse themselves into the system. Rather than fight it or accept the bad bumps, they get involved and try to work their way through it. Sucks if you are a doctor, but most other professions find some vocation within three years.

This is a very interesting article - as I said - when I consider places I wouldn't mind working for a few years other than Canada - the UAE, with a suitable job, is very high on that list. But would you live in a place where nothing is as it seems and you have no future, for (very) high bucks?