The Curtain Comes Down

It hit front page news on the Independent yesterday – the speculation that the Hollywood first couple, Pitt & Jolie were calling it a day.

Amy Jenkins wrote the article, making it clear that even though the rumours had not been confirmed, that they hadn’t been denied either. Today it seems that the damage control is firmly in place with speculation being watered with the proverbial ‘we are working at it’ and that the couple are ‘very much together’.

I remember when Gere-Crawford split came to be. Didn’t they take out a double page spread in a top US newspaper, denying the rumours and insisting that they too were ‘very much together’? Months later, it turned out that they ceased to be ‘very much together’ for real.

Celebrity gossip is a hobby for many, but that is not the aim of this post (everyone is entitled to a private life are they not?) – the point is that it makes me think about love ‘n’ stuff – If only we could fall in love and stay in love forever? … At some stage or another things come to an end, when they have run their course… Naively, we think that love lasts forever, but the reality is that seldom does it, and if it does for you, then you are truly blessed and never stop being grateful for it.

Love most often is a passing phase, it is never guaranteed, that you will be loved back, or that if you are that you always will be. Falling out of love is just as a reality as is falling in love. Nothing is ever guaranteed; nothing is ever for sure except death and taxes (which ironically Pitt’s character in Meet Joe Black also says.)

Do men like this exist?

Love this track – the lyrics are fabulous! Oh what a tune!

“…A thousand armies couldn’t stop me, no”, “Stormy weather couldn’t stop me, no” – ah! ..

(My respect to all those men out there who are not afraid of the meaning of this song)

‘Love is the only thing that interests me’

‘El amor en los tiempos del colera’, a great novel by Garcia-Marquez, I would say his best one (maybe I am biased though as love stories are my greatest weakness …)

There is a great scene (one of the most memorable for me, although indeed there are so many equally powerful ones) when lovesick Florentino Ariza, goes to work with his uncle, he is told off for his inability to write even a simple commercial letter without romantic poetry creeping in. “It’s no use,” protests Florentino, “Love is the only thing that interests me.”

I often am asked why I am attached to affairs of the heart which are so central to my writing. My reply is the same.

My Immortal – too beautiful for words..

Dear God,

I have no qualms about the wounds, nor the pain, nor time nor the memories. You listen to all prayers, so please accept mine:
Let my love never cry for I am not there to wipe away those tears…

Wake Up

It’s funny how we never seem to notice the beauty of things to be found right in front of our faces …

Cleaned the windows -the same windows we have had for the past 24 years. And even though they are cleaned often, it was the first time I noticed the precious window frame on the outside of the house, which is has an intrinsic beautiful wood snuggling up to the glass, being that pillar of support. It really does enhance the look of the frame. I was taken aback by its beauty. I always thought it was a man-made material, but that is because I did not look close enough. Had I done, I would have known that it  actually is very natural and very breathtaking.

It’s worth not taking anything for granted … it could be there the whole time and you search everywhere for that one precious thing. Open your eyes. See with your heart. Appreciate with your soul – before it is too late.

Scaffolding

Saw something interesting earlier – a very grande, well built, well to do house with scaffolding all over the front of the building itself. How could it be that such a strong looking building, made of concrete and bricks complete with all the inner wall block linings and other trimmings (you can tell I am not a builder can’t you?!?!); a symbol of resilience, of a fortress against the world, against the outside, how could such a protector, shelter from the cold, source of security, need the help of a few tubes of steel?

We all need scaffolding from time to time, I guess.

Butterfly Love

Love. A most wondrous thing, truly it is. Comes to us in many forms and guises. Not always packaged in the shape we perhaps want it, but no less in it’s value.

A friend, on the verge of a relationship, asked me the other day what I thought about the man in question. He is a good man I know; the way he cares for her, his values, how he feels and his beliefs speak for themselves.

‘Yes but I don’t get buttterflies everytime I look at him. I want to feel that. It is important that I feel that,’ she protested.

‘Really?’ I asked, ‘Have you ever watched a butterfly as it flutters around the garden? Have you ever noticed how it will embrace a flower and kiss it for only a few seconds before flying off onto the next one. Have you noticed the way, it repeats this pattern until eventually flying off to pastures new because it was bored? Think back to the last time you did have that butterfly feeling with a man – how long did it last and where is he now?’

And then we just carried on walking, in silence, but deep thought at these beautiful creatures who leave a trail of broken hearted flowers.

New Beginnings

Dear God,

Walking through the suburbs, I notice the beautiful houses that surround me. One after another, each one as welcoming as the one before it and the one after it. The plants, shrubs, greenery that can be found in the driveways is a pleasure to appreciate. People really take care of their homes; it is such a delight to see as you pass by.

And then I come to one house in particular. There are no colourful flowers adorning it; just a small magnolia bush (I know it is magnolia, my brother-in-law loves that and they have what is now a great tree in their garden), with some evergreen plants here and there. I carry on walking but am pulled back by the tree stump which is guarded now with boulders around it. You can tell that it was grand tree once; the base is still strong and defiant. I wonder how it was reduced to what it is now – Maybe with the winds it broke and the owners cut it for safety or that it would grow better? Maybe it was diseased so to save the rest of it, the only option was to cut it and let it start anew? Or maybe there is another maybe or so many other maybes.

All I know is that once grew here a mighty tree and I know also that that mighty tree will grow and flourish here once again. It is only a matter of time. For time heals all wounds (and so they say).

With hope for the future and for trees everywhere, please have mercy ya Rabbil Alamin.

Nasreen

An ode in remembrance

These days I seem to be up very early (an alien concept for me in the past, but then again that is the past…)

For the third day running, at the same time, (5.15am ish), there is a gentleman who walks past my house, singing an ode. I think he is  Polish and even though I do not understand the language, I feel the emotion in his words and the way he sings his poem.

I wonder who he has left behind that drives him to sing this powerfully moving ode.
It gives me great pleasure to listen to him as he walks past and for that brief moment or two that he passes, I remember my own longing and my own heart’s desire.

I may not understand the language in which he sings, but my heart seems to understand, for it weeps, weeps silently.

Love – “the most abused and misused word on the planet”

“… love is probably the most abused and misused word on the planet”

pg. 102, Catch a Fish from the Sea (Using the Internet) by Nasreen Akhtar

It is you know… Sometimes I wonder, if as humans, we ever truly understand the meaning of this word or even it’s value.

Being a linguist, and an integrational one at that, I know that words do not have fixed meanings, for we as their users assign our own meanings to these words, but do we respect the word ‘love’? or do we use the word so loosely as if it is not sacred, not a blessing, not a gift?

I wonder what it feels like to hear someone tell you that they love you? And then I wonder how it feels to hear someone tell you that they love you and for them to mean it. I would love to hear both.

Pleasure & Pain

Dear God,

You are remarkable… Was walking past a florist stall earlier and noticed a display of magnificent roses. I stopped to admire their beauty. As I was looking at them, I noticed the thorns on the stems.

The rose stalk tells the story of the pattern of life itself. With every moment of pleasure, somewhere along the line there will be the enlacing of pain. And that with every point of pain, there is something that has the potential to bring you pleasure. When I think of these little signs, I realise how much I am in awe of You.

With every ending, there is hope of a beginning, and with every beginning there has to at some point, lie an ending.

With every love, there is euphoria, but then at the same time, there is the potential of heartbreak.

When a couple copulate, it is most often a source of pleasure but then should that copulation go on to sow the seed of a new life, the woman will go on experience immense physical pain of childbirth.

(.. whilst the man … holds the woman’s hand in labour, if she is lucky.)
( .. ok, so we really need to work more on this pleasure/pain theory .. but then, You say that on no soul shall You place a burden more than it can handle, so I guess, this only goes to show the strength of women, because quite frankly, after all, the men are the weaker sex!)

For now, thanks for listening, Nasreen

First Behind: Barack Obama’s Buns of Steel

So, the First Puppy has been unveiled.
As it was walking around on the grounds, parading for the papparazzi, with Michele practically running behind, I felt the need to give it a little hug and a little kiss.

But then .. something distracted me …. there he was, looking so handsome .. especially with his hands in his pockets, the split at the back of his suit jacket giving way to unveil the First Behind – a very fit First Behind may I add .. ooh I say, Mr President! *blushing*

Take a peak for I speaketh the truth-eth:

See!!!!

*Note to self: Must not cheat on my husband, the sexiest man alive George Clooney with the sexiest Amreekan President ever.

(… Oh life and it’s temptations – It was much easier when George W. Bush was President.)

My husband – George Clooney

When Leatherheads came out, I remember asking the girl behind the counter, at the cinema, ‘This is the one with my husband George Clooney isn’t it?’

She laughed.

‘I am sorry, did I say something funny?’ I asked.

British Muslim and … love?

Dean Collins (aka Jummy Corkhill from British soap of long ago, ‘Brookside’) asked me recently, when I was on his radio show (he is now a DJ for City Talk 105.9fm) that people may find it strange to come across my story: a British Muslim who sets on a journey to find love.  Yes folks, it’s true, Muslims also love and they seek love too (we just go about it perhaps in different ways).

If you don’t believe me, here is the Author Personal Note from Catch a Fish from the Sea (Using the Internet):

Life is an amazing thing: a blessing, test, gift, teacher, mentor, friend, enemy, emperor, gladiator, passing phase… a mirage. Most of us seek the meaning of life during our short existence.This search will encompass a myriad of delights.One of these delights is finding someone who will journey with you through the splendour of this amazing thing we call life.

This book is about one woman’s search.A search of hope that one day a heart, by Divine Will, would come to honour her with love and mercy contained therein. It is a true story.It is my story.

This book has been the result of much heartache and pain, laughter and tears, disappointment and fears, dark days, darker nights, spells of sunshine, roller coasters, and a whole host of other emotions that I cannot even begin to describe; some I dare not imagine.

This book is for all those who have ever experienced that endless maze of trying to find a hand to hold and, despite their despondency,still carry in their hearts that stubborn hope that someday, someway, they will find that one person …

 

So here’s to dreams; those realised, those yet to conquer, and those that will never come to be.

 

Legal notice 

Why do broken hearts hurt so much?

A reader of Catch a Fish from the Sea (Using the Internet) recently contacted to say that she was unaware that there are so many similarities between Christianity and Islam. Why should it be surprising? The Final Messenger of God reiterated the Message that the Prophets before him had brought to mankind; he did not invent a new religion per se.

Therefore I always find the Biblical stance on pre-marital sex interesting. Ephesians 5:31 describes marriage between two people as them becoming one flesh and therefore when a relationship is broken after sexual intercourse having taken place, it is like ripping apart flesh.

Falling in love has to be more/less along the same lines hence why not encouraged in Islam. Maybe that is why broken hearts hurt so much? Because the heart (irrespective to whether there is pre-marital relation involved) which becomes part of another is then torn away from what it loves. What is certain for sure, is that it hurts (a lot), doesn’t it?

On growing old

I am not afraid of growing old. In fact surprisingly, actually looking forward to it.
Amazing isnt it – women seem to find men with grey hair attractive, but women with a little grey feel obligated to cover them up in the fear of appearing unattractive!

Once upon a time, you never asked a lady her age and most were always stuck on the 36 mark for years and years, well into their mid-40′s! Women don’t want to grow old but, age … isn’t it a fact of life? Besides, what you try to hide, the wrinkles soon give it away! (unless your best friend happens to be a plastic surgeon)

I am definitely feeling the age though. There was a time when I could pull off a 12 hour shift at work (retail) without batting an eyelid! But now … I barely manage to walk down the street without feeling it.

The other day I walked back from the shopping centre and I realised that my body is not what it was 10 years ago. Amazing as I know that in 10 years I won’t be what I am now.

So perhaps the secret is not to try and defy age, but to work with it and rejoice in it.
(As long as they keep making anti-ageing creams, we all should be fine.) ■

The importance of our own foundation

Change is imminent. Everything changes, nothing will ever stay the same. This is a fact that no-one can, ever has, nor indeed can they ever refute.

Life changes with the passing of the years; our thoughts will change the more we encounter the world; our minds through the increased interaction with others around us; our bodies change as nature must do what it has been ordained and age catches up with us; and so too does love.

Love, is something that is constantly evolving and as it does, it sometimes takes us by surprise especially if and when we are not adapted to it’s ever changing nature. As women this is something of which we must be aware. I say that as in the past this has meant nothing to me, but the other day I saw something that made me stop in my tracks and really think about me as a woman and my relation to love in the face of change. 

I was walking past the town centre and saw that a prominent part of the old structure is now rubble. Where once stood a great building, now nothing remained. I remember being a child, holding my parent’s hands, walking to town every Saturday morning. It was an excursion for us; for me an expedition, seeing these huge buildings towering above me. And yet, there I was passing nothing but emptiness.

Yes, they would build something new to replace the old building. Change is imminent. Sure it is. Of course it is. As these thoughts raced through my mind, I stopped. Suddenly. There in my tracks. I looked back at that space of now nothingness and looked to the building next to it. It was still standing, still that popular shop with customers walking in and out with their tills buzzing as they gladly took money for the sale of their goods (especially in light of the lamentable economic climate). This shop seemed unaffected by the disappearance of the building next to it. It was carrying on.

I reflected. Like that building, how many women, how many of us can say that when a loved one, when a man leaves our life, how many of us have that foundation of our own to carry on going and not crumble to the ground? Not many perhaps. I certainly never used to have it. That is why I went through a nervous breakdown when a man once walked out of my life to be with another woman.

You know how they say, ‘be strong, live for yourself first’ I am beginning to understand why they say it. And with the passing of each day, I am beginning to figure out how to do it. The starting point has to be a solid foundation. ■