Riffat Murtaza

Last night I was at the Islamic center. After the program was over, I called my hub and told him that if  he was ready, I was ready too – to go home, I mean

In the Parking lot, near our car, I saw something shining. I picked it up. It was a silver ring. I looked around to see if I could show it to whoever was there. No one was there so I put it in my purse. I knew the next day also there was a lecture and we intended to come. I thought I would give it to one of the committee members.

So today, when I took it out and looked at it, it was a silver band and the word ‘Love’  was inscribed all around it. Definitely a very special ring!

While handing it over to the Chair Lady, I said, jokingly

Yesterday, I found ‘love’ in the parking lot. “Oh really? lucky you!” I  laughed  “oh yes, that I am. Here is the proof “.. and handed the ring to her

“Are you sure it was not for you? some secret admirer left it near your car.” Well in that case, I’ll be justified if I kept it. Finders keepers you know”

“You would be breaking someone’s heart.” Now her daughter took the ring and looked at it closely. I think there is another ring – see this groove? the other would fit in here.

Okay, so find her then

Yes, two people -friends – husband and wife – girlfriend and boyfriend … certainly a pair !

We all laughed and agreed that finding the ring person was very important.

It was a long – I mean a real long session and I was a little tired so while coming back home, I decided to spend some time with my albums. This is my mantra , my ultimate relaxing exercise.

Every one in bed, handing the house over to me, I took out some albums at random.

Venice!!

… and the memories started tumbling down. What a beautiful time it was!  The tour package was four nights in Venice.

On the last night there, we went  for the Gondola ride. The trip started from St. Marks Square. Bill and Marrie – an older couple we had met on this tour – and we two with our two children were in one boat. We had a lovely time on the Canal. Going under the Lovers Bridge, taking pictures, receiving Geraniums thrown from the people sitting in Canal side cafes, at passing gondolas, cat calls, kisses being blown on the air ! It was fun. Italians are really fun loving people … happy people, ready to laugh with you, ready to make you laugh!

Suddenly our Gondola man started singing some Italian song, probably a romantic number. He looked at four of us, expecting some show of emotion. The sixty plus couple just laughed, just looking at us like putting the responsibility for the boat man’s demand.  But us two?  there was no question of a public show – not  in a hundred years!  Especially when he makes sure that there is at least a yard and a half’s distance between us when in public.

Romantic? us? no sir, no way

After the ride we sat in the Square and had Late’ . The children enjoyed their hot chocolate. Then the bands started playing and the couples started getting up to dance. We watched some then got up to go to the hotel. The group was starting early the next morning.

Bill, my other half and children were walking ahead of us. Marrie and myself were following them, walking slowly, talking, telling jokes, laughing. When we were getting down the Square’s stairs,  a young Italian passed us by running, then he turned and facing us, started running back words, saying something loudly. What is he saying? I asked Marrie “what did you say? Marrie asked him loudly ” I lovva ya, my fair ladies ” he said equally loudly… lovva you ” he said again blowing kisses. He turned again and ran off.

” what a nut case ” Marrie said. ” but how romantic!”  “oh I lovva ya” she tried to copy him. We laughed, almost falling over each other. Our men turned and looked at us to see what was making us behave like this. That sent us in stitches ! It was certainly Venice!

Oh Venice!!

George Sand, Robert Browning, Lady Ash Burton!  Previous night sitting on our hotel’s terrace, we talked about every one who came to this place. Cathrine Mansfield? no one was sure she ever ventured this far. This damp climate was bad for her anyways, we decided. I never tried to look up to get this information straight.

I put the album down, refreshed.  Thought about a dear friend,  assuring , that no matter what, my love for you shall always be as fragrant as always ! Maybe one day we’ll go there to-gather again and if not then that is okay too.

And then there was Abu Dhabi too. How can I forget that place? Hot and humid, big houses, High rising buildings, villas and shining cars but no humanity! Dull and drab, bloated with money,. But I still love and remember that place. It was an oasis of a different kind … a Cornish to the sea of  ….. but that is for another time. And the time I spent there was a long time ago. May be things are different now.

Forget everything

why remember

what was,

was.

Time waits not

move on it must;

only you stand

stand alone,

crying!

I saw this in my notebook. When did I write this – do not remember. But seems someone was really hurting.  It was certainly not me. I know myself and how I feel when sad or hurting. I just curl and go somewhere deep inside me and stay there till I feel like emerging and joining the humankind.

Yes, I know myself and know my way of dealing with other peoples stress, hurt, loss etc. As they say chot kisi ko lge dard mere dil meIn hota he. This is absolutely how it is with me. Not good , hanh? And if their grief is too deep, I hurt with them for days and later, have to make an effort  to get this feeling out of my system. I also start writing,  pouring out on the paper. I become that person, as if  all that happened to me.  Believe me this is cathartic – very! The writing – I mean.

But with happiness, I am honest. I celebrate being happy and love watching happy people, celebrate with them, celebrate my happiness with them! Feeling happy is easy, not as complicated as being sad or unhappy.

This helps me with my creative work … gives the feel of reality to my writing.

I had a nightmere last night. When little, if we woke up screaming in the middle of the night, our mama would be very concerned. In the morning she would draw every detail of our dream out of us.  She would be very quiet and sitting still, listening to our dream. And when we finished relating it, she would still be quiet for sometime, thinking probably. Once she had thought over each detail, then she would get up saying that dream was good. but it was the way she would say that.  Seriously or lightly. If seriously then for the next so many days she would be seen watching over us like a sentry and the alms giving would be on frequent basis.  Otherwise, it was all well and we would be allowed to go to friends house or let them come over.

So I had a nightmere last night. I don’t know what other couples do if one of them has a nightmere. Mine is very practical. Also, my poor dear gets up for namaz i shab and needs a comfortable, non interrupted sleep. I totally understand that so I myself baby myself in such situations. The question is why do I have these horror dreams in the first place? If it was too terrifying, I would share it with him in the morning,  if it was not that bad, I would forget by morning, so there is nothing to talk to or about.  But this one was a biggie.  It kept me awake for a long time and had an erratic sleep after that. The feeling of horror was still lurking somewhere in the psyche.

Finally it was morning.  I slowly raised my head from under my blanket. The blinds were open and the room was flooded with bright sunlight – like spun gold. Some one was rowing a small red dingy in the lake. Probably a gift from parents or dotting grandparents. The sight filled my heart with equally bright and happy feeling of well being.  “What a beautiful day!” Louis Armstrong  number on my lips, I threw back the blanket  and got up.

But the nightmere ? what nightmere?

At least share ,  who was it about?

No need to go into that either.

I am sure my friend across the Atlantic is going about life as usual !

Excerpts from  …

He woke up with a start and sat bolt upright.

He was fast asleep, a deep sleep, tired and sleepless sleep; and suddenly someone pulled him out of his semi unconscious state – softly touched him on the shoulder. “wake up” a whisper came close to his lips, and suddenly he was awake. He looked all around him but there was nothing unusual – everything was just as it was the night before or even before that. He tried to listen if there was some intruder in the house. Nothing. Even the room felt as it always felt … belonging mostly to his wife.

In the dim light coming from the night lamp, he saw the curtains moving. But it was because the fans were on. Then he realized that he was thinking about her. Denying all the time, pushing the thought, the image away from his thoughts. This irritated him. ‘ why, am I going crazy ? senile? He rubbed his eyes. ‘This is definitely not me. I need to get my head examined’
He again shook his head but it was hard to shake off those hauntingly beautiful black eyes, flecked with something like burnished gold. And those curled up thick eyelashes! He had never before seen such eyes. Looking at her he had always wondered about her younger days and how she looked then.

“What is it honey?” Carol woke up and turning towards him put her hand on his arm.
” Nothing. Go back to sleep”
” Then why are you sitting up? come, lie down please.”
“Go to sleep, carol” his voice was a notch higher than usual this time.
Carol withdrew her hand and again turned to her side, taking an exaggerated, loud breath.

She was fast asleep within minutes, leaving him sitting up in the dark.

He had to make a decision, and soon. She didn’t have much time left but before that happened, he was going to pitch in whatever was there in his capacity. She was a challenge to his profession.

The wheels were already in motion.

April, 2013.
afternoon.

I am incensed. Wasted so much time on useless talk. But my fault only.  “someone only bothers you as much as you allow to be bothered. ” my son once said that. This is a very sound advice but we sometimes don’t pay attention.  It is all in our hands to empower some one to keep probing into your info. Hate myself for being a victim of someone’s designs/ motives.

Actually this never could have happened if I hadn’t gone outside just to feel the feel of the wind blowing in the trees.  I was having my morning cup of tea when across the family room, through the front door, I saw  a soft wind playing with the plants and shrubs, growing near the main door.  Looked so beautiful that with my cup in hand I went out and stayed there for a long time savoring the feel of spring in the air.  A long ago memory visiting, I smiled and decided to go inside, rinse the cups and stacking them in the dishwasher, go and have an hour in the company of my albums. Turkey was on my mind because standing outside, the memory of Ahmad Mohammad and his family had visited. May be in some unknown corner of UK they thought about us at the same time – who knows!. Both our families went on vacation to-gather to Turkey, Murad, a Turkish gentleman was with us too and it was on his insistence we had included Istanbul in our plans. Otherwise, we were going directly to Surrey, UK, where my mum and brother were.

After spending about ten days in Istanbul, Murad stayed with his parents in Istanbul, the Iraqi friends went to London and our family to Greece. and from there to Italy and then to Lake District, then Surrey.  We had talked about meeting again somewhere in London, but never did.  Any ways, I’ll come back to it later.

My mistake was that after finishing with dishwasher, I came to my room and put on my computer to look at and say my salam, my routine. Being oceans apart does not mean anything when you know you are connected somehow! This is my way of thinking

Some one else was waiting and took this opportunity to come forward and introduce. Robbed me of my moment. My mood is ruined now, I am just hitting the keys.  Once this handyman working on our internet speed is finished, I’ll go get the album, if possible, put some pics for you. and continue with my thoughts. Have to see if what I felt sipping my tea, standing outside, feeling the spring on my skin – is still there.

April, 20, 2013

Spent the morning looking for the photos. It was hard to find what I was looking for in that collection of photographs shot during all those years. And once you start looking through the albums, slowly and gradually one by one every one starts coming and joining the group. This is exactly what happened and an hour’s work became timeless journey. It was fun. One more thing – I noticed that pictures need to be transferred – either to the computer or some new acid free albums. We do not have any negatives left. They were damaged while getting transported here along with my precious crystal collected over the years. Transferring was all done by professional packers. Oh well.

Right now I am adding some pictures. Writing part I am leaving to some other time. Some times a broken chain of thought is hard to mend. Also Topkapi Museum pics are  missing. So now I shall only share a few photos and whenever the mood strikes, I would write some more about our Turkish vacation.  Murad left the UAE befor us. Ahmad Mohammad left a year later. The last we heard they were living in London. They wanted to go back to Iraq but Shia Muslims had no future under Saddam Hussain’s rule.

Children from both the families goofing around The Guard in front of Dolmabahce palace

Ali Imran standing in front of Sultan Ahmed Mosque

Do not remember the name but it was on the Bosphorus .

Dolmabahce Palace.

I feel so sorry that  my dear friend Mustafa Karim is ill … has been for a long time.  He answers my emails but they are always very short messages. During the day today I was reading our old correspondence  and thinking about all those times  and the ease with which we used to discuss and share our thoughts with each other. When my mother passed away he was there for me holding a hankie, offering his shoulder to cry on and for that it wasn’t  necessary for him to come all the way to Florida.  He did all that living in UK.  He talked to me about his brother who was living  in India. It was really difficult for him but he did open up.   Always made sure that I get a copy of his books. When my afsana   <  phool, chaand taare aur drakht >  was published in Funoon received rave reviews, he wrote two articles about it.   Talked about < javaab > ,  < pehchaan>and   < gunnah> also.  I had picked the idea for pehchaan  while lunching in a Lebanese restaurant – Beirut – on – Edgware road?  I am talking about 1984 so there could be some memory mix up.  My brother’s friend Rabia was visiting from Saudi Arabia and we two were sent to Paddington  to pick her up and bring her there ) It was a small Lebanese restaurant. there was a family – father and son sitting close by. father was talking mainly in Punjabi and the son was struggling with three languages. English which obviously he was comfortable with, and Urdu and Punjabi for his father So a mixture of three language was a unique experience for me I absorbed it like a sponge and sat down the same night to write it.

Sorry I got carried away.

I was talking about Mustafa Krim. He is a true friend and I feel so sorry that he is not well. I hope and pray he gets well and we continue reading and writing and sharing with each other. Good friends are God’s precious gift to his people

Here is the one that set the direction of our knowing each other. I think you would enjoy this.

“…..when we share our life’s ups and downs with someone, we are actually honoring that person …that is how I felt while reading your previous email. In so many years that we have been in contact this was the first time you shared a little of your life.

I hope you have regained your strength. Both the times your body fought back and won and that is a good news. Problem of dampness in the garages is a tough one though. Handymen love such problems. I’ll certainly read the reviews on your book. Actually I had asked my brother in Pakistan to get that book for me. I had given him the address too where he’d find them but then misfortune struck and his wife had a stroke. I didn’t ask him about the book after that.

Have you read Rohinton Mistry’s novel ‘A Fine Balance’ ? A good read, no doubt about it. Now  I am reading Angela’s Ashes these days. Reading this book is an experience in itself…. I cry, I laugh …most of the time, at the same time. My other half thinks I am losing my mind.

Good luck with Ulysses. My countless efforts failed leaving me no choice but to put the book back on the shelf and never try reading it again ……”