Do Angels Cry For Pakistan?

Unforgiveable

She laid still and quiet on spikes of grass, surrounded by yellow pale daffodil’s, only hearing the twittering of the birds and the crisp of bell pepper leaves. The sun casted its final shadows on her delicate and fragile cold body, while her mind spun gradually with flashes of images and thoughts of contrast to her reality. Her well worn fast beat to the heart turned slower. She stared directly at the gloomy overcast sky with unblinking almond eyes and dirt smudged across her face.

Suddenly with the flicker of her eyes, she turned gently to her right side and came into contact with the moonlit light. Her face showered itself with the full moon, the same moon she had come into contact with when she was a little girl. Like the ticking arm of the clock, her mind swam into unanswered questions and possibilities of life.

Sweat trickled in the middle of her palms with a simple question of forgiveness sparking in her mind. A voice in the distance yelled for her name, yet she laid facing the moon and ignoring the deep thick voice. It was only her, who trusted him with her beauty and grace. She saw him differently, more than the man he thought himself to be. She sacrificed what she could for him, she was his life…and now she is gone.

The thick voice in the distance turned louder and louder, she placed her ear against the soil with spikes of grass tickling her ear. The sound of thumping feet hurt her heart, like stabs of wounds easing through the veins within the heart. She forced her eyes shut, and wished to vanish forever. The wind blew strands of her hair that cling to her rose cold wet cheeks.

He had failed her and there was nothing that could change this…because he is unforgiveable...because life without 'passion' is unforgiveable.

Written By Neelam Ahmed

Born In Gaza

Death Came Knocking On My Door By Aaqib Ahmed

LOST IN IDENTITY

When I was younger people on occasion asked my mother if she had picked the wrong baby from the hospital. My round chubby face, light plain skin, blushed cheeks, silky hair and the eyes – kind of oriental eyes, the way Chinese eyes are. When I got older into my teens and still now people question if I am Arabic. Yet I didn’t know what it was that could make me seem or look that way. There came a point where I questioned what my identity was?

When people look at you, what is it that you want them to see?
What do you consider your identity to be?
Your Religion? Your Culture? Your Gender? Your Nationality?
Or is it Your Ethnicity? Your Occupation? Your Colour? Your Personality?
Or then again it could be Your Looks? Your School? And Your Family?
And if all, which one is first and which one last, finally?

At some points I found a deep connection and unity with others who had similar identities to mine. Yet I had no idea what a real identity was, can it be more than one thing or does it have to be just one thing? At other times I felt a distance and disconnection with other people’s identities. I speculated if my inability to define my identity was having a negative effect on my life. As I mentored Muslim youths, some of these youths appeared to have similar feelings and views to mine.

I instituted that many ‘ethnic minorities’ established themselves fixed between two different types of cultures, usually the British culture and another culture of their own. Perhaps this was because of the different food, different clothes, different celebrations, different ways of speaking (different language), different attitudes, different motivations etc. Is this an abnormal thing or normal?

The place I have been born and brought up in has always been a mixed place with different ethnic groups, different people of colour, different religions and people with different social factors. Although oddly and usually at the same time, the people who reflect your identity will be those you are more likely to be with, e.g. at school I always see the same ethnic groups huddled together. This can be outside shops, on the streets generally, your work place or at your school/college/university.

Your friends are more probable to have the same or similar identity to your own.

I looked for a very long time and frequently found myself speculating with whom I am and how others portray themselves to be. So I was determined to talk to my mentees on what they thought or believed their identity to be?

Under Which Category Are You? – ‘Are You below Average?’
Some of them didn’t seem to know who they really were or in what sort of position and category they belonged to be. Some said that they felt as though they were viewed as being ‘below average’. So I asked them to tell me what comes to their mind when I say the word ‘identity’. These were the words they had listed for me: Religion, Personality, Ethnicity, Culture, Family, Nationality, Occupation, Gender, School, Colour, Country, Friends and Looks. I was proud of what they listed for me, especially because they had realised and were aware that they should know their identity and were interested to go thinking and questioning on it.

When I looked at those words, I thought to myself, ‘how could all of these be put into one word - identity’. Could identity be just one thing or could it be lots of things? My next step was to try and find out which one of these words from their list they thought was first in their identity and which one last. So I asked them to write down from the most important to the least important with a reason on why they thought that.

Since most of them already found themselves fixed between two types of cultures they suggested that culture could not be a fraction of the highest part of identity. So they put that aside as being the highest part of their identity.
They tried to establish nationality which is British most of them but not all. Most of them questioned if they were actually British or other? Just because of being born and raised in a Western place or having to inherit the Western nationality, did that mean their ways have to be traditional western too? They claimed that they didn’t feel British nor did they feel that they belonged under the British nationality. This was put aside too.
Ethnicity - this was a difficult one. Some of them didn’t know what to say about it. Some thought that ethnicity had the same views of culture that we had talked about previously. I found that the meaning of ethnicity is ‘where someone belongs to a group that shares the same characteristics, such as country of origin, language, religion, ancestry and culture. Therefore ethnicity is a matter of biological and historical fact and is not changed by the culture in which a person grows up’. When I mentioned this definition it put complexity into their ethnicity. Therefore they found it anomalous to put ethnicity as a first thing on their identity. Yet it is still part of the identity.

I found it odd on why some of them had put ‘school’ and ‘friends’ down as being part of identity. When I asked why this was the reply: “That’s because I spend more of my proper day time at school than anywhere else and because friends are part of school, it kind of puts the two together”. When I asked the same about family, this was the reply: “Well I wouldn’t put family as the highest part of my identity; even though they have similarities with my identity…my time spent with them is less, sometimes not at all”. I found that there were mostly personal reasons on why ‘family’ wasn’t put as the first thing on their identity list.

When it came to ‘colour and looks’ many of the youths had various opinions. Some said that it was highly important and when someone looks at you they always look at you by your skin colour or the way you look. One of the boys said this: “I know colour is an important thing in people’s minds, yet people won’t show it because they are afraid of racial offenses. But come on…everyone probably has a racial side to themselves where they might think negatively or positively towards someone’s skin colour…it’s either in conscious or unconscious, but it’s still there!” I asked a girl on why she thought that colour was important as she agreed, this was her reply: “Just from experience, like when filling out forms for jobs and that or other forms for like driving lessons or for a passport or whatever…they always ask you for your ethnicity, and most likely when they ask you this they are going to be wanting to know your colour at the same time, you get me. Like if I go and tick a box on a forum saying that my ethnicity is African-Caribbean…obviously they are going know that I’m black or if I go ticking a box saying that I’m Pakistani then they are going to know that I’m brown”. Even though they all found that colour was important, they didn’t think it was important enough to be put as the highest form of identity because they found that it was just a social factor, not something inside them.

Gender also had its resemblance; all of them thought it was important just as colour is important. However some of them thought that gender isn’t as important as it used to be in the old times. I asked why and this was the reply: “Gender was more important back in the days, same with age really…like with women, they weren’t really allowed jobs, not proper jobs anyway, and most of them were just housewives. Plus even in schools girls and boys had separate subjects taught to them, like the males were more likely to go on and do wood work (D.T) or sports or I.T, like technical stuff. And the females went and did textiles, like sewing and that or they learnt about doing the washing up…actually this still happens in today’s world, in this school. But there is some equality now…mostly because the law has changed in the past decade”.

Finally we came to our final identity part – Religion. All of them had told me that religion was definitely part of their identity and I could see certainty in all of their eyes. I asked why they were so sure that religion was part of their identity. No one said anything. Instead most of them lost eye contact with me and looked away or just stared at the ground or fiddled with their hands. I paused for a while thinking that maybe they need to think and that I needed to give them some space. After a minute or two I asked again and one of the girls said: “I don’t know…just because it’s a way of living init”. At this point I could tell that they had lots of opinions and views in their mind but yet none of them were telling me clearly. Were them embarrassed, uncomfortable or shy of their views?

Consequently I was pushed to pick on one of them. When I asked one of the girls who kept making eye contact with me on why she thought that religion was surely part of the identity, this was her reply after a short while: “To me…well…religion is just a way of living. Islam is like ermm all around. Like it’s in my heart and mind, everything that is done is done so in an Islamic way”. I asked her to expand a little bit more on how everything is done accordingly to Islam. She replied with this: “Like when you eat, you eat the way Islam has told you to eat, when you go to sleep, when you wake up, when you leave the house, when you enter the house, when you look in the mirror, when you leave for a journey…” One of the boys stopped her from talking and carried it on for her. “Yeah yeah, like just everything you do is done the way Islam tells you to do it init. Like even walking up the stairs and coming down the stairs we gotta say a prayer, before drinking water we recite a small prayer…even when sneezing or yawning…there are many thing. So Islam is like part of everyday life and like she just said it’s in the heart and mind. And if it’s like that then it can’t be taken out no matter what. It’s like tattooed to the body, you get me!”

Once the two of them had given their views on why religion was 100% part of the identity, more of them had started to include their views into it. At this point I felt that they felt comforted by having this discussion, like most of them had so many views in their mind but it was blinded out because no one had asked them or talked about religion with them. After we had discussed the importance of religion and why it was put as their identity I asked why some of them looked like they were unwilling to answer when I had brought up the questions on religion, this is what one of the boy said without hesitation: “You know like this world…it pulls you down sometimes, especially on who you are. Like I’m Muslim but like from what the media has injected into everyone’s mind these days makes me feel bad for who I am…a little”. I found that most of them had the same feelings and views and they had said that society has changed over time. Before I spoke one of the girls said this: “Just because society and the world has changed and just because the media portrays Muslims as bad most of the time, that doesn’t mean that Islam has changed and that we got to go believing in the crap that the media puts out to us…stupidly people go looking at Muslims instead of looking at Islam! Really” The other members were quiet surprised with what this girl had just said, and so was I quiet surprised honestly. Although most of all I was proud of them all and had got them thinking about their identity, including religion. I suggested that some of them needed time and lots of thinking to do. So I left it to that.

What your identity holds first?
Two days later I met up with the group again and asked the final question on what they supposed that their identity held first, all of them replied with ‘religion’ and ‘Islam’. Some of them even said that nothing else was held in their identity and it was just Islam!

We had our final discussion on identity and Islam and there were many views yet to come from these youths so I let them discuss and talk about it more. All of them had clearly stated that everything else in their identity had some conflicts and splits. However Islam united them all together and there weren’t any conflicts to be seen.

“Do not divided among yourselves. And remember Allah's favor on you, for you were enemies and He joined your hearts together, so that by His Grace, you became brethren (in Islamic Faith), and you were on the brink of a Pit of Fire, and He saved you from it. Thus Allah makes His Ayat (proofs, evidences, verses, lessons, signs, revelations, etc.,) clear to you, that you may be guided."

"And be not as those who divided and differed among themselves after the clear proofs had come to them. It is they for whom there is an awful torment."
(Surat Al-Emran, Verse 103 and 105)

Written By Neelam Ahmed

Cancerous – 6 Years On

Cancerous – 6 Years On

Been a while now since I haven’t been far away, didn’t know why and didn’t care to try
Put that smile on my face when mama talked to me about the adventures she’d been to
They interrupted when they came in with their suits
Told her something that turned her face so grey
“What’s the matter mummy, why won’t you look at me?”
“Nothing Neelo baby I just gotta go make myself some tea”
Too many people here under the weather
Trying to stay awake while in their beds
Alone that night with needles in my hands and arms
And a machine beside me that wouldn’t stop beeping
It kept me up all night from sleeping
Too many pills, injections and equipment
This nurse now was starting to make me sick
“Cant I just go home now?”
“Naw, you can’t cos’ you’re not allowed”
The next time they came and took my mummy away I followed sneakily
To place my ear against the door and hear a cry
What are they saying? All I hear is the words ‘fighting’, ‘trying’, ‘spreading’ and ‘dying’
What’s this new word I hear? Something that sounds like ‘Leukaemia’ – mia – mia

Damn this, I feel like running far away to nowhere
Because this world is strange and staying alive isn’t fair
Need more air this room feels too tight
Even better everyone is here now without an invite
Aunts, uncles and cousins from across the world
They can’t be here just to see me
You stand a meter away from me like I’m some alien
Whisper things thinking I can’t here, so what I’m cancerous?
Not like it’s gonna be getting to y’all within a sneeze
Instead of making me better, this all is making me more ill
A low percentage of living isn’t something to worry about
Maybe it’s a good thing because now I won’t get any shouts
Made a gracious new friend across my room that day
She called me over every night to her bedside to play puzzles and to pass time away
She got what I got, she talks of how long she been here
And how much it hurts when she can’t live like a normal girl
“Walk to school in hand to hand, stuff your face in whatever you like, let the sun soak into the skin and the wind blow your hair”
Those were the normal days
I thought to go by her bed to share some chips on that Sunday
She slept motionless even when I quaked
Her mother sobbed while they took her away
What does this all say about me? Will I not succeed?

Some familiar faces disappearing slowly
That night I put my hands together to say a pray
“Oh Allah, if I don’t wake the next day, make sure that my loved ones stay safe”
Later on nine weeks went by and I couldn’t see anything
Dreamt weird things like they were trying to tell me something
Felt way too much pain but couldn’t get myself to scream
Everything was on fire and I could hear mumbles of prayers
‘Please don’t go planning a funeral for me
Because it’s something that you all won’t need
I will come out of this and you will see
See how I am a fighter and how strong I can be’
I said to myself without my mouth speaking and without anyone hearing
I wish to see someone’s face and to feel someone’s touch
I can’t stay on this life support because it’s all mistaken
And it’s not doing anything but making me ill
Flesh peeling is making my body itch
Tape over my eyes is hurting with ablaze
Maybe I’ve gone blind and that was the reason for their stupid tape
I’m not dead just yet; I’m just hanging of the chain arc
That’s attached to the ship
Just grab my hand and help me out of this mad sea
But wait a little longer, because now there is something I see
Something below this sea, oh how beautiful this is glimmering my eyes
It disappears and I wish it would come back; maybe that under world isn’t so bad

Six years on and I’m just fine
Got a job and studying full time
Just living with these memories of such pain and signs
I keep within me that beautiful thing that glimmered my eyes
Trying to picture it all in my mind
Even though those deep dreams and memories are clearly remembered
And those words that the docs said
Sometimes it still feels like its living in me in the red
At times my fam would tell me that they lost me for a short while
And about how at times I got violent, bad and crazy
But shush now because I don’t like to hear about it
You tell me what you saw and heard
But you never asked me how I felt and how I saw it all
I hope that none of my loved ones go through this
So it don’t matter that I missed half of my childhood life
It don’t mean that I didn’t catch up much easily as you
So they say all is ok now from outside, but what about the inside?
Oh Lord, what’s this new thing that I hear?
(Sigh) maybe this thing does pass about
My guardian can’t have got it
He isn’t meant to go through with this
Even though it’s not all the same
But still it has to be the same shame of blame!

Being a prisoner in your own mind you don’t need
Your heart telling you to keep fighting for your life – fighter
Fulfil your goals and dreams
Believe things will get much better – believe yourself
Just because you’re going through this
It don’t mean that you got to quit – please don’t quit
Have patience for the pain
And you never know a miracle might be yourself – a miracle
Stay much stronger and don’t give up
Because you don’t really want your life to break itself – right?

Written By Neelam Ahmed

Oh Allah I thank You for giving me life, for maybe giving me another chance in life. I thank You for keeping my loved ones safe. I thank You for helping my family and friends help me go through my past. And I thank You for what You have given me today.