Cricket, Islam and women

There are religious nutcases and then there are cricket nutcases. Sometimes they can be found at one spot.

England's cricket team is on a tour to Pakistan. They (England) are on their way to being the No. 1 team in the world, while Pakistan is as usual the unpredictable team, capable of defeating the best one day and going down to the worst the next.

BBC's correspondent Owen Bennett-Jones, visiting with the cricket team, writes in Pakistan's passion for cricket:

I've only met one Pakistani who did not like cricket.

He was a 25-year-old talib, or religious student, called Ali.

He came from Peshawar and had been educated in one of Pakistan's madrassas, or Islamic seminaries, since he was six years old.

With his wispy beard and serious face he had a pretty austere, puritanical view of life.

Dancing, listening to music and watching television were all wrong, he said.

I tried to find a chink in the armour and said: "Ah well, as a Pakistani you must at least love cricket?"

"Cricket?" He raised his eyes to the heavens.

"Why all this cricket, cricket, cricket? Don't people realise they are wasting their time? People should think of Allah, not cricket."

This is pretty serious stuff. The cricket blog, Corridor of Uncertainty, discusses the case here. I like Zainub's take on the issue:

Funny though that he should call cricket or sport a waste of time, some of Holy Prophet's closest companions were known to be very keen on sports played in their times (including wrestling and horse riding and fencing). Some records have it that even the Prophet of God Muhammad (peace be upon him) himself enjoyed such sports.

This is an example of our literate and enlightened Muslim woman. The fundamentalist mullahs and imams will shout "we should go back to our true Islam" but then forbid women's education because if their women really learnt the true Islam, they would realize how beautiful and liberal Islam is, and what a fake the so-called religious leaders and their faulty interpretations are.

Afghanitan's Taliban used to forbid women from working. The Messenger of God's own sister-in-law, Asmaa bint Abu Bakr, used to work, that too in the fields picking dates. She even used to talk with men who were not her husband **mock horror**!

Asmaa relates: "When az-Zubayr married me, he had neither land nor wealth nor slave”". So Asmaa had to work very hard kneading dough, going far off to get water.

"And I used to carry on my head," she continues, "“the date stones from the land of az-Zubair which Allah's Messenger had endowed him and it was a distance of two miles from Madeenah. One day, as I was carrying the date-stones upon my head, I happened to meet Allah's Messenger, along with a group of his Companions. He called me and told the camel to sit down so that he could make me ride behind him. I felt shy to go with men and I remembered az-Zubair and his Gheerah (modesty) and he was a man having the most Gheerah. The Messenger of Allah understood my shyness and left."

"I came to az-Zubair and said: “The Messenger of Allah met me as I was carrying date-stones upon my head and there was with him a group of his Companions. He told the camel to kneel so that I could mount it, but I felt shy and I remembered your Gheerah."

So Asmaa declined the offer made by the Prophet. Upon this az-Zubair said: "By Allah, the thought of you carrying date-stones upon your head is more severe a burden on me than you riding with him."” (related in Saheeh Al-Bukhari)

Look at the sense of dignity and modesty of Asmaa! See how she felt shy in front of men? See how careful she was about her husband's feelings? She knew her husband's feelings so she didn't want to upset him by accepting the Prophet'’s help even though the Prophet was the purest of men (and her own brother-in-law) and even though it meant bringing hardship on herself! And look at Az-Zubair, he didn't want to inconvenience his wife, his wife's hardships were acutely painful to him! What a beautiful relationship they had!

I wonder what Peshawar's Ali would have made of Asmaa, had they learnt about her. She worked. She went outside the house. She talked with men. She was educated. She had her own income. There are many more stories such as these that deserved to be told.

PS. Incidentally this is my 100^th post. A century.

Tags: Cricket Islam Women In Islam Asmaa

So Are You Gay?

"So, you didn't tell me you were gay?"

I looked at Ivan* in surprise.

I was at the gym, on my way to my locker, having just emerged from the sauna. Ivan was at the locker besides mine. I had known him (not too well) for sometime, having seen him around the club where we played badminton.

Now, when the guy charged me for being gay (never happened before), all it took was a second before a reflexive, instinctive, and forceful "NO!"

"Oh, sorry." He looked relieved. And a bit sheepish. "I was gonna change later then, after you left."

I shook my head. "What the hell - I mean why - why would you even ... THINK ... that I might be gay?"

"Towel." He replied.

In a flash it became clear to me. You see, I have two white towels for the gym that I rotate. This weekend they were both in the washing machine, so I grabbed the largest towel I could find in the cupboard. It was a made in Bangladesh towel, mostly blue. Like many desi towels, however, it had designs on it. My towel depicted a dinner table. Sweets. Dates. Mangoes. Lichus. All traditional fruits of Bangladesh.

Fruits.

"Word of advice," Ivan grinned. "Never wear a non-white towel at the gym."

"It's BLUE!" I protested.

Mark shook his head. "Colorful. But I should have not worried. South Asian guys are never gay."

Things were much simpler when I was a kid in the Middle East. Blue lunch boxes were for guys, pink for girls. That was it. Nothing else was demarcated so strictly as masculine or feminine.

I was taught in an English medium school by the British. 'Gay' used to mean happiness. First week I was in Canada, I went to Paramount Wonderland. It's a roller coaster theme park in Toronto, kind of like Six Flags, but only better. The day we went, they had a banner at the park entrance stating Gay Day in Wonderland. And I thought wow, they want everyone to be happy. And no, we didn't know about the day from beforehand - we went as the tickets were half-priced (true desi-ness).

The sight of guys holding hands inside didn't unnerve me that much. After all, common in the Middle East. It was only when I saw two grown men kissing did my Canadian cousins let me on in the meaning of the word 'gay' in North America.

It used to be the colour pink. Now it's all colours of the rainbow, as a comedian commented the other day. What's more, people here seem to find out new signs of gayness every day.

• Don't wear your wrist watch on the right hand. Half of Bengali 'uncles' must be gay then.
  
• Don't wear colourful shirts.
  
• Don't carry your cell phone in your right chest pocket.
  
• Talking in a high pitched voice. Ok scratch that, that's definitely gay.
  
• If you carry a bag with a sash wear it on your left, not on the right.
  
• Don't tie your cardigan at the waist. Wrap it around your neck. You may strangle yourself, but atleast hey - the guy down the street will not mistake you for being gay.
  

I don't understand how a guy can look at Angelina Jolie or Sushmita Sen and tell me it does nothing for them. But what I don't understand even more is how using a certain coloured towel proves that fact (as long as it's non-pink). Jocks should just grow up.

On another note, I saw the movies Zathura (4/5 - really good fun, had low expectations, thought it would be a kid's movie, but very pleasantly surprised), Legend of Zorro (2.5/5 - had read bad reviews, so had low expectations, but suitably entertaining for the most), and the Indian movies Chocolate (4/5 - excellent, given that it's a rip off), No Entry (5/5 - funniest movie I have seen in quite a while - a laugh riot) and Aashique Banaya Aapne (2/5 - low expectations, cheesy moments, but suitable for renting).

* Not his real name.

Tags: Zathura Gay Chocolate

The Usual Suspects

It took a bit longer with PhotoShop that I thought it would, but here it is.


The Usual Suspects

The catalyst for the picture was Spring Rolls, a Thai restaurant where we had our class of '02 reunion this week. The wall outside the restaurant was painted white with horizontal red lines, much like a police lineup photo. At that time I got everyone to pose for the picture, with the Usual Suspects theme in mind. I did not know how well it would look in the final composure.

Friends

It's amazing how comfortable one can be with old friends. Some of us had not seen each other for more than three to four years, but we seemed to pick up where we left off. For a few minutes, it was not some programmers, database analysts, or security designers who sat down for dinner, it was a bunch of guys from UTSC taking a temporary break from an all-nighter in the S-Wing, the day before an assignment was due. We reminisced about our dorm rooms, the professors, the trips to the Dean's office, and the ever unforgettable 'Pink Room'.

There are times I miss my university days. If not for the forever lacking of ready cash or those pesky classes, university life was the best lifestyle.


Inside Spring Rolls

Taxation vs Poverty

M., the only one of us who left Canada for USA, told us about life, and a career, there. Apparently a single young person at a reputable company can save a lot of money. He should know, having bought a house recently, while the rest of us think twice before buying a new car.

The problem with Canada is our high rate of taxation. It is hard to make a lot of money with just a decent 9 to 5 job, whereas in USA it is not unheard of. They take a lot of our income (as much as 33% in our tax bracket) from the pay cheque, and we pay taxes on the top of that when we purchase other goods and services. The flip side is we have free health care, and a huge dosage of social programs. This was admitted to me by a social sciences professor cousin of mine from Nebraska - the class gap in Canada is not a big one. Even the child of an unemployed single mother can expect an education and health care, while OSAP and other grants cover university education. If you have the will, it's not hard to pull out of the social rut.

However in USA, many companies sponsor health care. Then you enjoy the same facilities as in Canada, except you keep a lot more of your money. Will the absence of social programs bother you? There will be a lot more poor and deprived in the society who have no hope of ever climbing the social ladder, as no help is possible for them. As a consequence, there will be more crime in society. Witness the murder rates in New York and Toronto, or the crime rate between any comparative cities in Canada and the US.

According to M., however, you can just live in a posh area and the 'problems' will not reach you.

It's a proposal I find more appetizing each day.

Tags: The Usual Suspects Taxes UTSC Reunion

What People Talk About

I hate having a cold.

This very dependable body suddenly starts to dread the simplest activity, like getting up from bed. And all food tastes like paper. Here am I, Ramadan over, waiting to delve into the culinary delights that is Chinese food, and I can't tell the difference between Kung Pao Chicken and water.

Speaking of cold, which thankfully came after the Eid celebrations were over, I realized something. Visiting many people and friends over Eid, it struck me that the topics of conversations amongst elders are very different for Bengalis in Canada and back in Bangladesh.

Here the weather is a favourite topic of conversation. I was waiting in a checkout line at Walmart, and the cashier, who just got in, was rubbing her hands. She turned to me and grinned.

"Cold, eh?"

"Yup." I replied. "Quite nippy today."

"Sure." She was scanning my purchases. "But not as cold as last year though. Last November was worse."

"But definitely colder than the year before that." I recalled helpfully.

An old gent behind me cut in on our conversation. "This is nothing. In '75 it was so cold the cows had frozen milk in their udders."

It took me five minutes to get the image out of my mind.

For some reason whenever I talk about weather old gents keep bumping into the conversation with animal talk. During this summer through a heat wave I was waiting at a mechanic's place getting an oil change and talking about how hot it was. Another gent butted in, "Oh in '69 it was so hot chickens were laying boiled eggs."

Bangladeshis, on the other hand, talk about everything else other than the weather. This is how it will go if you run into an old friend of your father's on the bus.

"So son, how are you? How's your dad? Your mom? Your sister? She is doing her exams, right? How did she do? So did you get a job yet? Oh you did. So what do you do? How's your boss? What about your dad? Is he looking for a Canadian job? What courses is he interested in? So your uncle got a cataract operation, right? How is he doing? Which hospital is he in? So you got a cold. Is your nose running? ... "

And so on.

It is considered a sign of politeness and affection to ask about each and every personal detail of the other person. They say it brings people closer as they know of each other and their problems.

However, transport the same Bangladeshi people to Canada, and a couple of years later if they meet again they will talk about a) how hot/cold the weather is or b) how good/bad our sports teams are doing.

Why? It's not that we have suddenly become ruder by Bangladeshi standards.

In Canada people like their privacy, but other issues with immigrants could be - you don't ask about the other guy's job because he may be working odd jobs or is unemployed. You don't ask about his kids as they may not be doing so well at school. You cannot tell him about your promotion lest he thinks you are showing him up. And you cannot tell him about your health problems as you don't want that spread across the community.

We have adapted to this lifestyle. We don't like to talk about our personal life anymore. So we talk about the weather instead. Has it made us more impersonal, colder? I don't know.

I hate having a cold.

Tags: Weather Bengali Conversation

Fall At University of Toronto

The Photo Police

Some people, obviously given too much power with too little minds, start to act pompously and become full of air. Hot air. Once such person was the Photo Police.

There I was, enjoying my lunch break by engaging in a hobby - photography. The fall colours at UofT are brilliant, and I needed some wallpapers for my desktop.

"Excuse me, you are not allowed to take pictures."

I turned. It was a tiny little lady in the official UofT parking police uniform.

"You will need a license to take pictures here. I will have to ask you to stop."

I looked at her as if she was talking in Greek.

"No pictures. Shut off your camera."

Now I took a step towards her. When dealing with pompous figures of authority I have found it pays to be polite. Very polite. You cannot get angry or they can cause hassles.

But if you know your rights and you know you are in the right, you can be firm. Polite, but firm. And having dealt with web developers here I knew perfectly well I wasn't committing a federal crime. And it pays to use big words - a trick I learnt from The Three Investigators' Jupiter Jones.

"I am taking pictures of a public property from my personal camera for my personal usage. I am neither engaging in a monetarily beneficial action nor taking any matrimonial photographs. There are no actual physical manifestation of any person in these pictures except myself. I don't see how you can ask me to stop engaging in what is purely a tourist activity."

She looked at me as if I was from Mars.

Then she impatiently waved her hand and said, "Ok, but wrap it up quickly." Then she left.

They should really give these Photo Police something useful to do.


Front Lawn At ARC


Rez Center


Knox College


Knox College Residence Outer Wall


Colors of St. George


Lovely yellow at Sanford Fleming


University College

Tags: Fall UofT

Tea, Languages And Me

The local news channel recently showed the profile of a 9-year-old kid who spoke three languages - English, French, and German. I felt like shouting at the TV. That's news?

Canadians have an issue with bilingualism. The politicians have to be bilingual, to speak in both English and French. Almost all government positions require bilingualism, even if you are going to be a computer programmer and the only languages you need to know are Java, C and so on.

So I always manage to drop jaws when asked the number of languages I can speak.

Six.

Ok, let's do the recount.

Bengali. One. That's a no-brainer.

English. Two. I live in English Canada.

Hindi. Three. Ok, now the white Canadians in my office are already impressed. One replies he had a hard time learning two (English, his native, and French, forced at school). He speaks only one (English).

All except the guy from Bratislava. He said he also knows three languages. English. His mother tongue from Slovakia. And Serbian. But I am not done.

Urdu. Four. None of these guys needs to know how similar Urdu and Hindi are. If you watch Bollywood movies you know two languages. Hindi and Urdu.

Now, if I am feeling slightly adventurous, I will add ...

Punjabi. Five. Yup. The language spoken in Punjab, India. Never mind that many words of the Punjabi I know are very similar to Hindi or sound like Tusi, maar jawe gur khaken.

And now you are already into wow territory. And you can then add ...

Arabic. Six. We're Muslims. We need to know a little Arabic. No one needs to know how little. That's it. The ball has been hit out of the park. Six languages.

And then you add the clincher.

"Um.. most Bengalis I know are similarly qualified. English, Bengali, Hindi, Urdu most know, and then Arabic too." [and it's true]. The other guys are already shaking their heads.

Maybe I should call the news. They have been reporting on mediocricity for some time.

CBC: Centilingual Canadians

* * *

Remember the dad in My Big Fat Greek Wedding who said any English word can be traced to Greek? Well, I recently asked a Greek gent who serves tea at our office what the Greek word for tea was. He said "Chai".

The guy from Bratislava then said, "That's what we call tea."

Greek guy [joking]: "You must have taken it from Greek then."

Me: "We must have taken it too, cause that's what we call tea - cha."

I did some research (google) and came up with the astounding fact that tea is known by only two words in almost all languages.

"Two pronunciations have made their way into languages around the world. One is 'te' which comes from the Min Nan dialect spoken around the port of Xiamen (Amoy). The other is 'cha', used by the Cantonese dialect spoken around the ports of Guangzhou (Canton) and Hong Kong, as well as in the Mandarin dialect of northern China. Yet another different pronunciation is 'zoo', used in the Wu dialect spoken around Shanghai.

Languages that have Te derivatives include Armenian, Danish, Dutch ('thee'), English ('tea'), Finnish, Estonian ('Tee'), Faroese, French, German ('Tee'), Hebrew, Hungarian ('tea'), Icelandic, Indonesian, Italian ('tè'), Latvian, Malay, Norwegian, Polish (herbata from Latin herba the), Singhalese, Spanish, Swedish ('te'), Tamil ('thè'), Yiddish, and scientific Latin.

Those that use Cha or "Chai" derivatives include Albanian, Arabic, Bulgarian,Bangla, Croatian, Czech, Greek, Hindi,Urdu Japanese ('cha'), Korean, Nepali ('chia'), Persian, Portuguese ('chá'), Russian, Ukrainian, Romanian, Serbian, Slovak Slovene, Swahili, Tagalog, Thai, Tibetan, Turkish (çay), Malayalam,and Vietnamese ('trà ' and 'chè' are both direct derivatives of the Chinese, the latter term is treated as indigenous)."

The other word, or sound, to enjoy such universal commonality is 'mother'. All languages have the 'mm' sound in their word for mother. A coworker replied it's because the first word sound a baby makes is 'mmmm' and the first caveman, who was probably a smart fellow, looked at the baby, heard the 'mmm' sound, looked at the mother, and said, "Oh he wants you."

From then on the 'mmm' sound is associated with mothers.


Tags: Languages Bilingualism Tea

'Twas The Night Before Eid ...

... or it might not be.

One of the great mysteries of Eid-ul-Fitr, atleast to the non-Muslims, is why can't you say which day it will be, until the last possible hour of the night?

So tomorrow, Thursday, or the day after, Friday, will be Eid, depending on the sighting of the new moon tonight. Our mosque is on record saying Eid will most likely be on Friday, based on the astronomical predictions provided by the mysterious Hilal (moon-sighting) committee. I am hoping it's a Friday, I have already taken the day off from work and planning for a long weekend of Eid partying.

The girls are going to have a henna party. This implies I have to get out of the house. I am going to do no such thing.

The male elders (the uncles) are planning a strategy the military would be proud of. At this moment a street map is spread on the floor, and the four heads of the neighbouring households are looking over it.

"Hmm.. we cannot go north on Markham Rd, there's a left turn and it takes 10 minutes to clear."

"What about coming from the North?"

"No good. That entrance will be blocked by the rush hour crowd on Friday."

[A pause as the uncles chuckle at the poor fools who are going to work on Friday while we take off for Eid]

"How about McLevin?"

"Yes, you are right Mobin bhai. McLevin it is."

The 'uncles' were determining the best way to get to the mosque, avoiding the traffic rush of the thousands of others who will also try to get to the mosque, get the best parking (closest to the mosque), all the while leaving as late as possible (for the mosque) and yet making it on time. Very precise planning, this.

We-of-the-youth are making our plans too.

"See if you sit in that corner of the mosque you can relax as you will have a wall behind you to lean on. And sitting there means sitting under the fan, while also close to the door. That way as soon as the service is over we can leave and-"

At this moment the uncles come in so we switch to some other topic with knowing smirks.

"Beta (son)," The eldest of the elders announces. "Here is the Eid Schedule."

The Eid Schedule is the Planned Itinery. At so-and-so time we are going to leave for the mosque. So many cars will meet at Rendezvous A, after which we will leave. And such-and-such time the service finishes. On the way back first we stop at Mr A's house. Mrs A is making parathas. Then we move over to Mr B's place. Mrs B is in charge of the sweets. Then we return to our place where we will have tehari. Following on to the next house for who-knows-what.

Then there are relatives. That means minor adjustments to Planned Itinery. People visit friends, relatives, and have a feast on Eid. And that's just the morning.

Come the Eid morning, however, all that planning is aptly forgotten and things are taken on the fly. After all, Eid is a time for fun, and fun means being spontaneous. So we will visit houses out of order. We will give the wrong Eidi amount as gifts to the wrong person. We will eat the wrong food at the wrong place. And no one minds.

The first time I had Eid candy (we called everything toffee back home), I looked at my father and clarified, "So wait a minute. I am allowed to eat as much candy as I like?"

He was also in a clarification mood. "Of course. It's Eid." Then he added, "As long as it's no more than six." He knew I wouldn't count, and neither would he.

I pity those poor Moz who do not want to celebrate Eid.

"What's the use," these Muslims would say, "it's not the same here."

So what? The beauty of holidays around the world is it's never the same everywhere. Each place has its own variety. Rather than compare, just relax and enjoy the moment.

Eid Mubarak everybody.

Tags: Eid Toronto

Gomery, Corruption, Immigrants And Conservatives

I cannot be a Canadian blogger with a passive interest in politics and not comment on the Gomery report.

A brief summary would be: the Canadian Prime Minister Jean Chretien (called JC) started a public project. People in charge of the project diverted tax payers' money into their own pockets or those of their friends rather than the project. JC retired and Paul Martin took over as Prime Minister, and then the scandal broke. Today Judge Gomery, who was incharge of the investigation into the mess, released his report (it's a 1000 pages BTW).

I admit my first reaction when I heard the scandal was:

Um.. ok... moving on...

I cannot speak for all immigrants, but can bet you that a significant percentage of the immigrants from the so-called third world would have a similar reaction. Do we have a lower standard for our politicians than the rest of Canada?

After all, many of us come from places where corruption is the rule, not the exception (see Bangladesh). We are used to it. We expect it. And when it happens we compare it to situation back home and say, "it's not so bad".

This is why the governing Liberal Party can stay on in power despite broken promises, corruption and scandals. Our Opposition scares us. The man (oh please get rid of Stephen Harper) leading the Conservatives and his minions always make comments that are portrayed as racist, anti-immigrant, anti-Muslim, anti-French, anti-minority, anti-women (you get the idea). They have no new alternative policies to offer to Canadians other than bitch and moan. Whenever they open their mouth they want to shove their religious values on the rest of Canada (we are very secular and very liberal, in case they didn't notice). They supported the Iraq war (which the rest of Canada opposed) and now have a collective amnesia as to that chapter. And we, the immigrants, have a fear that they would make Canada the 51^st state.

Looks like we are stuck with the present bunch in Ottawa for some time.

Tags: Gomery Corruption Immigrant Conservative

The More Things Change ...

... the more they stay the same.

I am an 80s kid, and sometimes its fun to take a nostalgic look at the past and see what's different now.

Connectivity

Then: Pagers. A small and portable gadget, clipped to your belt, with a tiny LCD screen. If someone needed to get in touch with you, they would page you, and the pager would show the number up on the screen. You then had to go to the nearest landline phone to make the return call.

Now: A cellphone with a gazillion utilities like camera, MP3 player, USB storage, GPS. If someone calls you, you still look at the number, press 'Reject', then go to the nearest landline phone because you don't want to waste your 'daytime minutes'.

Major Change: Pagers did not have those annoying musical ringtones. They would go a gentle 'beep-beep', not 'Lay Up The Bitch You Motherf*****'.

Music

Then: The Walkman. A must-have faithful companion when jogging on those cold mornings, or just something to listen to on the way to work. The tapes had a serious drawback though - to get to the one song you wanted to hear, you had to forward serially through the others.

Now: The glittering Ipod. Reputed to store pictures, videos, and more than 10,000 songs. You still cannot jump to song number 347, you have to hold down the scroll button to quickly pass through the other songs before it.

Major Change: Walkman users would pause their music and listen to you on the street. Ipod users carry around a 'Do-Not-Disturb' sign.

Television

Then: Your TV cost a few hundred bucks. There were 8 buttons for 8 channels. Channel 1 had news, 2 had Pat Robertson, 3 had some hollywood drama that sucked, and so on. There was nothing good on TV. You plopped in your Blockbuster Star Wars VCR that had a few bad scenes because some previous renter spilled Cheesys on the tape.

Now: Your TV and entertainment systems costs more than a small car (think Kia). There's 1000 channels if you subscribe to satellite, or at the least a 100 if you have cable. However half of them are news, Pat Robertson is still on TV and Hollywood drama Joey still sucks. Since there's nothing good on TV you plop in your Star Wars DVD from Blockbusters. The guy who spilled Cheesys has moved on to smudging the DVD's recording side with Doritos-laden fingerprints, so you still got a few scenes that jitters.

Major Change: Never has crap looked so good on high definition.

And finally *drumroll* ...

Politics

Then: Iran is being led by a religious fanatic who stirs up fervent rallies by the angry youth and says America is the Great Satan and Israel must be destroyed. A bunch of guys named Bush, Cheney and Rumsfield are in the White House, leading Americans in a fight against what they called an evil ideology. The US is heavily involved in Afghanistan. Israel still plays the anti-semitism card if someone says 'boo' to it.

Now: Iran is being led by a religious fanatic who stirs up fervent rallies by the angry youth and says America is the Great Satan and Israel must be destroyed. A bunch of guys named Bush, Cheney and Rumsfield are in the White House, leading Americans in a fight against what they called an evil ideology. The US is heavily involved in Afghanistan. Israel still plays the anti-semitism card if someone says 'boo' to it.

Major Change: Saddam Hussein, the same guy he was as he is now, was one of the good guys.

plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose.

The more things change, the more they remain the same.

PS. Read this article on Democratically Elected Madmen. Sounds like what someone would say back in the 80s about Thatcher, Bush Sr. and the Ayatollah.

Tags: 80s Nostalgia

Eid Party Games

I was talking with my Tamil neighbour on the bus who also happens to be a clergy in the neighbouring church (I don't know exactly what his position is but I have seen him in the black robes). He was telling me his son was having a few friends over on Sunday, and they were going to have what he called a Christian games afternoon. When asked to elaborate he said he was going to hold a small quiz on the Bible, and then have them act out a play on some holy script (in preparation for Christmas), amongst others.

That got me thinking. Our Eid is coming up, which marks the end of Ramadan. It is a day of remembrance of Allah, and spent with family, friends and community. We give each other gifts and cards and pay visits. In Muslim countries, the frenzy of last minute Ramadan shopping for Eid dwarfs the Christmas shopping here by many times (remember the population of Muslim countries :-) ).

So I decided to make some 'Islamic Eid' games. They can be fun, played when you visit your friends for Eid, or just to keep the kids busy while you catch up on the latest gossip.

Pin The Black Stone On The Kaaba

On a large white piece of cardboard paper, draw the Kaaba. Color the Kaaba black and make the two golden coloured lines near the top. A small white mark near the base marks where the legendary Black Stone is supposed to be. Give the players a small tack to represent the Stone. Players then take it in turns to put the 'Black Stone' on the Kaaba, blind folded. Mark each person's guess with a small sticker with their name on. The winner is the one who puts the stone closest to where the original mark is.

After the game is over the story of the Black Stone and the construction of the Kaaba by Ibrahim (Abraham pbuh) can be repeated.

Wikipedia: Kaaba and the Black Stone

Pass the prayer cap

Arrange all the players in a circle. Start the azaan tape and pass the prayer cap to the person beside you. The host can, and at any time, stop the azaan tape. The person holding the cap is out. Game continues until the winner is chosen.

Guess the Surah

This is for the non-Arabs. Pass out pages to each player. On each page is a table with two columns. On column 1 write the name of any chapter of the Quran, but in English. For example 'The Cow'. Players will have to guess the proper Arabic name of the surah (in our example it is Bakarah). The one to have the most names filled out in 10 minutes is the winner.

Show and Tell

This is more of a kids game. You bring one item or two. For example bring a small rock and a toy camel figure. The kids have to guess which Islamic story the game is from. In our example it is the story of Prophet Salih (R) who miraculously carved a she-camel out of a stone mountain. After the correct guess the person with the show and tell items will do a short presentation of the Islamic story.

PS. Bringing a cross to the Show and Tell is too easy, and will be considered cheating. So is bringing a boat full of animals.

Guess the Qiblah

Put a blindfold on the player and twirl him/her for a moment. Then, with blindfold on, he/she points to the direction they think is the Qiblah. Repeat for all guests. The guests with the absolute correct answer (or closest if there are none) are selected and the process repeated until there is a winner.

Wikipedia: Qiblah

and finally ...

The Local History Game

Each guest is asked to memorize a short history of any notable Islamic person from their area of origin. For example anyone from Sylhet, Bangladesh, can choose Hazrat Shah Jalal (R). They have to inform the others about what this person did in their area, how he contributed to the culture and history of the locality, and how it affects YOU today. The more local you can get, the better.

That's all I could think of. More suggestions are welcome.

Acknowledgements: I searched for Eid Party Games on the net. I only found one link. The 'Pin The Black Stone On The Kaaba' game is from that site.

Tags: Eid Games

Windsor Teacher On Trial

This is such an unusual news article that I could not resist blogging about it. From the Star,

"From praising Osama bin Laden and calling the Holocaust an "exaggeration" to telling students he'd like to have sex with their mothers, a former Windsor-area high school teacher is accused of having broken just about every taboo of civil conduct - in class or out."

William Fabel's outrageous statements include:

• To a female Grade 10 student, Fabel said: "I was looking at Playboy magazine and saw someone who looked just like you."
  
• After the Columbine shooting, he entered the class pretending to be a gunman, causing students to cower under their desks.
  
• To the mother of two students at the start of a parent-teacher interview, he asked: "Who do you want to talk about first? Dumb or Dumber?"
  
• He told one student his mother was a "M.I.L.F." - meaning a "mother I'd like to f---."
  
• To his class: "I'm a leg man; I have cameras hidden under all the girls' desks!"
  
• To a Catholic: "Your religion's stupid. That nun isn't getting any!"
  
• He spoke about his own sexual activities and offered tips to male students on "how to get into girls' pants."
  

And these are just a sample of his overall 'quotes'.

Fabel got a teaching certificate and degree from University of Toronto in 1988. My question is, how did he pass the 2 years needed for certificate, which included a 1 year teaching practical? Did he keep his mouth shut while he did his certificate? Or was his comments less offensive then as diversity was less in Toronto then?

News Links: Toronto Sun Toronto Star

Tags: William Fabel Windsor

Iraq War Dead Crosses 2000 - A Lie

While I sit in an air conditioned mosque and break my fast with the sweetest of dates and spiciest of chicken, it is hard to pause and reflect that in some other parts of the world, people leave their homes and do not know if they will come back (Iraq), or they have gone to bed having everything but woken up with nothing (Pakistan quake victims).

The US media have been covering the 2000^th death in Iraq as a grim milestone. I don't know what is a milestone. What about the 100,000^th Iraqi death? Was it not a milestone?

When asked once about civilian deaths, General Tommy Franks, US Central Command chief replied, "We don'’t do body counts."

In the blog "Truth About Iraqis", the author posts,

"Democracy cannot, should not, and will not be measured by the power to vote. It will be measured by the sanctity of human life."

As I posted during Katrina that "society is judged by how they treat their poorest, their weakest, and their most vulnerable citizens". And Bush's government was found wanting, yet the Americans were not (over 70% of Americans donated to charities).

This article refers to how 'liberals' will destroy America. It uses the British Empire as a parallel and points how soft thinking ruined the great empire. While I am sure the British Empire made great contributions such as road and infrastructure to its colonies, it also had many dark chapters. The slaughter of innocent protesters at Amritsar, the cutting of fingers of the muslin weavers of Bengal, the rape of tribal women in Africa, and so on. So maybe it was a good thing the British decided to disband their empire.

The US media will choose to focus on the US dead and ignore the suffering of Iraqis. CNN's Christian Amanpour is one US reporter I have seen to ask and report on their lives, and how unsafe it has been for the normal Iraqis. One Iraqi woman wailed into the camera, "What kind of life is this, just eating and sleeping? We have no life."

Those are the stories that need to be told. The pro-Republican media, led by Fox, will tarnish the liberals for 'weakening' America with their anti-war cry. However it is the liberals who will ensure America lives up to her ideals.

"I sought for the greatness and genius of America in her commodious harbors and her ample rivers - and it was not there . . . in her fertile fields and boundless forests and it was not there . . . in her rich mines and her vast world commerce - and it was not there . . . in her democratic Congress and her matchless Constitution - and it vas not there. Not until I went into the churches of America and heard her pulpits flame with righteousness did I understand the secret of her genius and power. America is great because she is good, and if America ever ceases to be good, she will cease to be great."

- President Ronald Reagan, 1982.


Tags: Iraq 2000

Gerrard Street Tales

The Gang of Three's T and E went for post-Iftaar dinner on Gerrard Street, along with E's brother S. Upon finding a suitable Pakistani establishment, they entered and placed their order. Very soon, the sizzling plate of butter chicken and the scrumptious curry beef made its appearance at their table, along with the obligatory naan and biryani. It was then that E asked for a knife and fork.

“What?” S poked fun at his brother, “Why do you need a fork for desi (South Asian) food?”

“The biryani,” E countered. “And the butter chicken.”

“Use your hands.” T told him in the ‘wise man’ voice. “If it was good for the messengers of God it should be good for you.”

“Besides,” S offered his wisdom. “Your hands are probably more sanitary than these forks, and who knows who has eaten with them in the last hour.” Then he looked at E’s hands and added, “Provided you have washed, of course.”

“I don’t know.” E raised his hands in protest, taking the teasing in good humour. “We are in a restaurant, we are in Canada, and I am using a knife and a fork. Screw you!”

Amidst the general ribbing of becoming ‘too westernized’, E got his knife and fork. As he prepared to dig in, the door to the restaurant opened.

Two girls walked in. Extremely beautiful, faces fair, slim figures and dressed fashionably Indian. They sauntered over, looking for a table.

E poked his knife into a piece of chicken leg.

“Mmm, guys, this is good.” He raised the chicken piece and looked over at T and S.

They were busy signaling to the waiter for a fork and knife.

The girls had sat down at the next table.

(Story credit: E)

Tags: Gerrard Street

Not In My Backyard

NIMBY.

Not In My Backyard.

That's what they called us when we opposed a recent city plan to create a 'Home for the Homeless' in our area. I have tried to see whether they were right.

You see, like any big, major, growing city, Toronto has a homeless problem. They clog up downtown streets on the 5 o clock rush hour, begging for alms as cars stop for the lights. They sleep in open parks. Many see them generally as a nuisance, a bunch of people who will NOT help themselves and rather CHOOSE to live the way they do. That's what City Hall was accused of, not caring enough for the less fortunate.

What does City Hall do? They decide to build a bunch of 'Home For The Homeless' shelters around the city, away from the downtown core. Well, they say, you can't fight City Hall. We did.

Toronto has some obscure clause added to its constitution during amalgation that lets area residents have a say in any city project. And boy, did we pack the school gyms and wherever they held a public meeting.

It was ugly, it was brutal. The city did everything in its power. They deliberately booked rooms with lower capacity. They scheduled the meetings in bad weather. Our area councillor, who is as left as you can get, was very much for the plan. He repeatedly tried to argue that we should be doing more for the less fortunate. We were mentioned in the Toronto Star.

The regular special folk were there too. They were bunch of social activists, writers, 'humanists', and other city workers all arguing why we should support the plan. Sure, it was not near their homes.

We had our concerns. We are near a river, and our property value would plummet, causing us to lose tens of thousands of dollars, were we to resell. The children now are let loose to play in nearby fields, but with the arrival of homeless the atmosphere of a residential area would be lost. Parents were skeptical of assurances that the 'bums' would only sleep for the night and not venture into our area during the day. Nobody here locked their doors, left the cars out, and tools lay around in the backyard. We did not want that feeling spoilt.

NIMBY. Nimbysts.

That's when the taunting started. It grew ugly. Racial insults started to flow. It's amazing the amount of hatred and vitriol we keep locked up inside ourselves for normalcy, but can unleash in times of stress. The cops grew edgy. But the residents held firm.

In the end a compromise plan was adopted by the city. The 'Home for the Homeless' would be scrapped. Rather, the city would fund a plan to create a Habitat for Humanity project. Instead of a shelter, these are a bunch of actual homes that will be awarded to actual families who are too poor to buy a proper home.

As we left the hall, one resident started to murmer, "This is just double speak. We are gonna fight this too." And many agreed.

NIMBY? I don't know. But I can relate to it.

Tags: NIMBY Toronto

Bengali Wedding In Toronto

My friend the K-man got married recently, here in Toronto. As promised to some Nahdians, here are some of the pics.


The official 'Akhd' and wedding was in the evening.


T and E arrive to be part of the 'Baraat'.


At the groom's cousin's place before departing with the Baraat.


The groom is fed a spoonfull of 'doodh-bhaat' (rice and milk) for good luck.


Naach Mundiye


We arrive at the bride's place. This is the 'gate dhaara' (official symbolic barring of entry to groom until some gifts are obtained).

Crossing the US Border

It would be only a matter of time at any event or social gathering before one of the bespectacled gentlemen would slowly arise and announce, "Ah but, you won't believe what a hassle I went through the other day to cross The Border ..."

The Border, ofcourse, is the US-Canada border, and crossing is usually going from the Canadian to the US side. Living in Canada, trips to the US are a regular part of life. I mean the first time I asked one of my coworkers and a long time Canadian are there any good cities nearby Toronto for a weekend trip? and he answered, Ya! The US!

I don't think most people face too many undue hassles crossing the border. If everything is on the level, and you co-operate and help the officials who are only doing their duty, you are unlikely to face trouble. But that does not mean there are not some, er, amusing incidents.

Once I was crossing with our university group. Our group included a black Jamaican-Canadian with dreadlocks, a red-headed Irishman, his blonde Swiss girlfriend, our Russian instructor, and me, the token South Asian guy. The official looks at us, and barks, "Are you all family?"

And he was quite serious.

This other time, December 2002, four of us friends crossed at the Windsor-Detroit border, on the way to Florida. The official indicated to us to park the car and go inside for 'deeper' interrogation. It was a year and few months since 9/11, and the Iraq war was just being sold to the Americans. And here I was, with three Pakistani friends (all born in Karachi) and me, a Bangladeshi.

[15 minutes before the border, inside the car]

Allright, everyone, do we have our answers ready? As we rehearsed, okay?.

Remember we have nothing to fear, we are all legally here and nothing's fishy. No I am not shivering, it's just cold.

Don't speak unless spoken to, and answer only what is asked.

Maq, dude! Why the hell did you bring your Pakistani passport? Where is the Canadian one? Why do you still have that Pakistani passport?

[I will leave out the rather colourful details of what our driver friend told Maq he could do to his Pakistani passport]

Once inside, the immigration office was daunting. There, in English, French and Spanish, were written the words, "We, are the guardians of the United States, serving our country and our President with pride, ... yada yada."

Then, right underneath, in Arabic, was "Why are you being detained?"

Then an immigration officer comes in, with this really huuuuuge gun. He cocks it, and then yells, "Hey Mike, this thing f****** works!"

Then he comes over, looks at Maq's (short for Maqbool) brother Omar (what a name, at that time) and said, "So you guys want to enter US. Have you ever been arrested, convicted, or charged with assault?"

Omar, the reliable friend he is, replied, "Not me!"

Translation: I don't know the rest of these creeps, but not me.

Needless to say, the official burst out laughing. He was really cordial after that.

Another time, when I was with family, this officer asked me, "so why are you born in ..., and your parents born in ..., and your sister in ... and your brother in ...?"

As if I had any choice in where I was born!

Needless to say, even though at times they may be vexing, I understand they have a tough job. Their country's been attacked. And I know, most terrorists look like us, so we get 'special attention'. I understand that. However, it is also not right to harrass people just because they are of a certain ethnicity. There's a fine line there.

What about the way back? I can honestly say Canadian officials are the least bit worried about you if you are coming back from the US and riding a car with Canadian plates. My theory is, they figure you have already been vetted going into the States, so why bother.

Most of the time they will ask us: "So did you buy anything in the US over your prescribed allowed tax limit so we can charge duty on that? Did you?"

One time we were returning late into the night (2 am) via the Niagara border. The girl only person at the Canadian counter was asleep. We had to honk our horn (loudly) to wake her up.

And the reaction from the Canadians returning is even better. The same guys who are rehearsing on the way in will be like, "You know, if that guy asks too many questions, I am going to let him hear it."

One thing though, a few days into the States, the heart longs for Canada. It is a cherished sight to see the 'Welcome to Canada' or 'Bienvenue Vers Le Canada'. Many times we have burst into a rendering of 'O Canada' after crossing the border.

I would be interested to hear other people's experiences at The Border. I bet they would be equally colourful.

I.T. Is Like, So Easy, Eh?

I really can't stand some people, of the middle aged variety, who thinks we who studied Computer Science have had it easy. They think anyone can do what we do. Without studying.

I ran into this 'Uncle' at one of those society parties. He has just recently moved to Canada after like a lifetime in the Middle East.

Him: "So, Mezba, how have you been?"

Me: "Same old same ... I mean I have been good, Alhamdulillah. How are you?"

Him: "I have been thinking ... you are doing something in computers right?"

Me: "Yes". Yeah, I program those code that work on machines that supply electricity to downtown Toronto, but yeah, I am doing 'something in computers'.

Him: "I have decided to accept a job in that ... field ... too."

Me [surprised]: "Yeah? You have a job offer already?"

Him: "Oh no, I am going to apply to one of those programming positions. I mean with my experience and education it should be easy right?"

Me: "Oh, sure uncle, you go right ahead." Education? You are a Mechanical Engineer who graduated when Bangladesh was still East Pakistan. That too from Solimullah High Institute of Technology. 1960. Experience? You have worked 20 years for the government in the rich Middle East where if a machine was broken they just got a new one instead of fixing it.

Him: "Sure, the job requires ..Ja..Ja.. Java, C, HTML, but I mean I can learn it in 4-5 days right?"

Me: "Oh absolutely." Sure, it took us 4 years of blood and sweat and tears in university, not to mention those pesky linear algebra and discrete math courses, but I am sure you, who requires help downloading an attachment from your email, can learn it in 4-5 days.

Him [continuing]: "Yeah, my son is giving me this book, Programming Java In 7 Days. So I should be OK."

Me [silent]. Isn't your son studying Philosophy?

Him: "I heard they do train you on the job too. So after I pass those interviews, I think I can accept the job."

I.T. is not easy. We did not spend 4 years learning a programming language. We spent 4 years studying how to think like a program. We learnt how to not just to code, but to code properly, efficiently. O(n) instead of O(n²). If you don't know that don't think about it.

We studied analysis, design of information systems, data management. We had to spend 4 years where there were 2 girls for 40 guys. Sure, our social skills may need a little refining, but the next time your airplane lands safely, your car stops properly, your letter prints correctly, that's us.

We are not someone you call to fix your damn computer because you opened an email attachment from Nigeria that said "Be Rich Tomorrow, I Just Need You To Run This Program Today". If you don't know when your printer cartridge is empty and are perplexed as to why your document won't print, don't call us.

We will call you.

When Politicians Lie ...

See also Guests At The Foundation Fundraising Dinner.

What's the difference between lying and break a promise? Come 2007, I have a feeling Dalton McGuinty is about to find out.

You see, paraphrasing Jon Stewart, Canada is like a bizzaro world version of USA. Here, the Liberals (our equivalent of Democrats) are in power, their ideas popular, their men media savvy, while the Conservatives (our equivalent of Republicans) are defeated, rudderless, with no solid leadership. Recently Canada has legalized same sex marriage, decriminalized marijuana, rejected any abortion restrictions, and maintain guns are for police and law enforcement officials only.

So it was no surprise when Dalton McGuinty of the Liberals rode to power in Ontario two years ago, clinching 72 seats out of 104. His signature during the campaign had been a bunch of promises, the most famous of which, repeated most often, was "I won't raise your taxes, but I won't cut them either. Our schools, hospitals and welfare services need that money. I won't raise your taxes, ... I won't raise your taxes, ... "

What's the first thing he does on winning the premier's seat? Raise taxes.

Breaking your promise is when you made a promise in good faith, but on coming to power you realized the situation is bad and you cannot keep your word. That can be forgiven. Not lying. Most Canadians now believe McGuinty lied. He said anything to get elected.

Usually when Liberals lie they can get away with it by demonizing the opposition even more. And the federal Conservative Party has obliged, recruiting sexists, men with big mouths, anti-immigration anti-minority candidates (a travesty in Ontario). But now with John Tory at the helm of the provincial Conservative party, they could just turn things over.

As I said before, whatever the mess the federal Conservatives in Canada are in, the provincial wing have done the right thing in electing this man as their leader. I heard of him first when he ran for the position of the mayor of Toronto (ironically against David Miller, now his good friend). He was speaking at that time of discrimination women in hijab face when job hunting.

Currently he has pulled all the right strings to ensure the Conservatives get good press. He has done a lot to make his party inclusive of minorities and other entities that generally shy off from the Conservatives. He attended the Gay Pride Parade in Toronto this summer, the same time the federal Conservative leader Stephen Harper shied the parade (and then dressed up in a weird cowboy outfit).

Tory will have an important test soon. The Liberal MPP from Scarborough Rouge-River, Alvin Curling, has been made the ambassador to the Dominican Republic, meaning that seat is now empty. The riding has a population of 115,437, of which 97,400 are visible minorities. In such an immigrant, mostly liberal Christian, riding the Conservatives had always run an Anglo, hardline Christian candidate. Needless to say he didn't gel with the voters. You need to be smart in picking your candidates.

This time Ms Cynthia Lai is going to run on their behalf. John Tory has to ensure she wins the riding. This would be the first step towards their victory. They say a week is a long time in politics, and there are still two long years for the election, but when politicians lie, they deserve to be punished.

Guests At The Foundation Fundraising Dinner

The Islamic Foundation of Toronto held a fundraising dinner for the earthquake victims of Pakistan. A host of dignitaries from the political arena attended, showing how mainstream muslims have become in Toronto. Mr. Qayyum of the Foundation got a big applause when he invoked God's blessings on Canada for what they have done so far.


Toronto mayor David Miller is the first of the invited guests of honour to address the gathering.

David Miller has always worked very well with immigrants, minorities and communities, and this was no exception. He spoke well, was concise, and spoke of what Toronto is doing for Pakistan (helping with water purification techniques).


The long-time federal MP for the riding, Derek Lee, speaks of the Canadian response.

Derek Lee has served this community for a long time, and he spoke of the troubles Pakistanis were facing with the onset of winter. He got a few smiles when he said we Canadians know better than anyone how harsh winter can be.



Ontario Leader of the Opposition, John Tory, the leader of the provincial Tories, talks of the pledge.

The more I see of this guy the more I like him. Whatever the mess the federal Conservatives in Canada are in, the provincials have done the right thing in electing this man as their leader. I heard of him first when he ran for the position of the mayor of Toronto (ironically against David Miller, now his good friend). He spoke then of discrimination women in hijab face in job hunting. Today he was full of class, and got a standing ovation when discussing his own pledge.


Ontario New Democratic Party leader Howard Hampton addresses the majlis.

The NDP has always been a muslim-friendly party. It was Alexa McDonough, the leader of the federal NDP, that stood up in the house of Parliament after 9/11, and said, "Mohammed and Osama are Canadian names too". She was discussing the persecution many muslims at that time were facing. Mr. Hampton thus spoke to an appreciating audience.



Cynthia Lai, PC candidate for the area in the upcoming by-election, speaks.

I was happy to see the PC party has ditched their long time loser candidate for this riding and chosen someone who reflects the ethnic makeup of the riding (another positive for John Tory, he has made a big gesture in including minorities in his party, that has always been portrayed, sometimes unfairly, as anti-immigration, racist). Ms Lai spoke well.

Overall it was a great evening. Almost CND $50,000 was raised, with more on the way.

Why I Avoid Certain Parties

I plan to attend a community meeting tomorrow where the leaders of the provincial Conservative Party and the New Democratic Party will be speaking, as well as the mayor of Toronto, so tomorrow's blog will probably be heavy on a serious topic. Thus am posting in a lighter vein today.

I have been desperately trying to avoid Iftar parties. People forget that the month of fasting is supposed to connect you to the hungry and needy people of the world. Instead, I am overwhelmed at the size of the food usually on offer. Bengali iftar parties can often feed the entire Canadian army for a week.

I have found that the best way is to take a very little bit of everything and stay out of sight of the aunt (henceforth referred to as the Aunty) who's throwing the party. Too much of any one thing will make you sick, and you MUST have enough space left for the sherbet (drink) which will help avoid strange gastronomic noises during the night prayers.

The first item will be dates that everyone claims is from Mecca. Now these are very sweet and tasty. After all you have been fasting the whole day so anything will taste good. Do not get suckered in. Eat just one or two. You need space for other foods.

For sure drink the mango lassi (drink) now, for if you go to Maghrib prayer thinking you will have it later, you will find that the little kids have finished it.

Then, after the obligatory Maghrib prayers, comes the main food. This is where you will run into the Aunty who is the hostess - and she will not take Naa (no) for an answer. "No" means you are shy. If she offers you that extra piece of kebab , dripping with a delectable jhol (gravy), never say "No". For if you do she will now give you two of the 90%-oil-10%-meat serving as a reward for your modesty. If that happens, wait. When everyone's attention is reverently focused on her 90-year-old elderly parent who has just entered the room, put the kebab back into the serving dish.

Beware your cousin. If he tastes something awful, he will turn to you and always ask [very loudly] 'hey did you taste this, this is good'. Always in the presence of the Aunty.

Many Bangladeshis prefer to wait until they have finished eating COMPLETELY before going for the spicy drink (yes, spicy drink) called Burhani that's as refreshing to me as two-day old bathroom water. It seems to be a favourite of our elders. We Bangladeshis do not usually drink during the meals - hands are too full of korma to hold the glass, you know. And if you leave halfway through the meal to quench your thirst you will find that in usual Bengali efficiency the next person in line is now sitting at your chair and at your place.

Bangladesh TV has a tradition of producing special natoks (TV shows) during Ramadan. Some of them can be mildly interesting. If you are invited to one such family's house for iftar, where one lady will undoubtedly mention the latest natok that her son's friend's mother's brother has got from Dhaka. Pretend to know everything about it. The plot is usually the same - the daughter (Kulsum) loves this hard working engineer (Altaf) who has come from the village but made it in the big city but her father has planned her marriage to his friend's son (Rana) who is also classically handsome but residing in America. After 12 episodes, the father comes around to her point of view, her boyfriend succeeds in wooing the family with his good Muslim/Bengali values while Rana of America is a dweeb womanizer. Or the Rana from America actually turns out to be super rich and super cool and super good so the poor engineer fiancee Altaf is left in the lurch. Either way the girl wins. Who says women are not empowered in Bangladesh. I miss Kothao Keu Nei.

Finally the sweets. We are famous for our gulab jamuns, rosgollas, faloodas and so on. After a dinner where you have effectively thrown out the Atkins diet for the 'see-food' diet (you know, see food, will eat), this can be the final torture.

No wonder I try to avoid certain Iftar parties.

"Have some meat. Oh, you are vegetarian? All right, have some lamb then!"
- My Big Fat Greek Wedding.