DesiGhee

Muslim Men

2011-10-14T20:43:00.001-07:00

Muslim men you dream of paradise,

Helping at mosques with your kids and wives.

You work long hours for bread and butter,

You help with schoolwork, your son and daughter.

Muslim men you dream of paradise,

At Ramadan you’re hosting grand iftars.

May Allah bless your family with happiness,

May Allah grant your children true success.

Muslim men you dream of paradise,

May you have it, with your kids and wives.

But some of you are a blot of shame,

Cowardly men hiding behind Islamic fame.

You work long hours for bread and butter,

Then beat your wives, in front of son and daughter.

You’re only hosting grand iftars during Ramadan,

Your fasting women work in the house and kitchen!

Allah sees what you hide from everyone else,

Etched into a book of deeds, sit your vicious sins.

You brutal men you dream of paradise,

So keep dreaming, dream of paradise!

Abeer S Najaf Parkar

14-Oct-11

~ In support of Rumana Manzur & October, Domestic Violence Awareness Month~

Goodnight!

2011-10-14T20:40:00.003-07:00

Some thoughts keep us from sleeping at night,

Unforgettable memories, a bunch of good times.

Before closing our eyes, we’re already dreaming,

Of beautiful castles, roses and prince charming.

Have we become delusional or forgot to grow up?

MASH is gone, now phone bills, food we count up.

It was always house, doctor, cops we’d be playing,

Now it’s real, “wanna go back” is what we’re crying.

We didn’t have to fit in or have the perfect body,

The best love was a night kiss and hug from mommy.

We dreamt of growing, now we dream of returning,

Dude, we just got dumber as our brains kept growing.

Thought poop was disgusting? Now there’s politics,

In your jobs, family, government, it stinks and reeks!

This was your dream, welcome to your future,

Now go to sleep, where the dreams are much better.

~This poem is the original work of Abeer Saeed Parkar, composed on 29th May, 2011 at 3:20 a.m. Do not copy, she has studied Media Law and will drag you to court!~

Stay

2011-10-14T20:40:00.001-07:00

So much truth in your eyes,

I see faith, I see no lies.

You’re beautiful in every way,

Your beauty asks me to stay.

So much worry in your voice,

I hear promise, I hear no vice.

You’re comforting in every way,

Your comfort asks me to stay.

So much peace in your arms,

I feel care, I feel no harm.

You’re loving in every way,

Your love asks me to stay.

If I couldn’t see it, I would hear.

Or feel the love, if I couldn’t hear.

Your love defines purity,

Continuously enchanting me.

Drawing me closer every day,

So here I am, I’m here to stay.

By: Abeer Parkar

For: You know who :)

On: 04-Sept-2011

Sea

2011-10-14T20:39:00.001-07:00

The sea knows all my pains,

The sea has heard all my screams,

I kick at the waves rushing my way.

The sea has seen the worst of me,

The sea has seen the best of me,

I share my secrets with her every day.

When you laugh at me together,

When you make me cry longer,

The sea snatches my tears away!

The more you people ridicule me,

The closer I am to my loyal sea,

Every scoff from you sends me away.

I freely race along the open shore,

In salty air till I can breathe no more,

Paradise for now, I’m compelled to stay.

Abeer Parkar

12-Sept-2011

Muslim Me

2011-10-14T20:38:00.001-07:00

I've set my mind on what I want to, what I need to do.

I'm a Muslim, I'm a woman.

I'm not oppressed, by my father, brother or husband.

I choose to wear my hijab and everything else I do.

Don't judge my story by my appearance.

Don't assume I didn't go past high school.

Nobody forced me into marriage.

Nobody’s forcing me to bear a child or two.

I’m a Muslim, I’m a woman.

I’m not oppressed by my God, people or religion.

I’m a Muslim, I’m a woman.

I’m free when I wear the hijab.

I’m free when I go to school.

I’m free when I have a job.

I’m free when I'm a wife.

I’m a Muslim, I’m a woman.

I’m only oppressed by your misconception.

Abeer Saeed Parkar

23-Sep-11

Mississauga, Ontario

Canada

~I wrote this poem out of inspiration and in support of Kenza Drider, French Presidential candidate.~

Love at Aldo's

2011-03-01T22:39:00.000-08:00

By: Abeer Parkar
19-March-2010

Something’s bothering me and I really don’t know what. I think a lot is happening at one go. Good stuff and bad. So I think I need a new Aldo bag. Having a good-looking bag gives me such a boost of confidence. I first got my bag last summer, 2009. Every where I went with it, people complimented my beautiful Aldo bag. Those compliments meant a lot; because I fell in love with that bag, it was love at first sight and here's how it all started.....

I was strolling around Square One with Mom. It was the first time Mom and I went on a shopping spree. I had just returned from India. Obviously I had brought back new clothes and “stuff” for myself. But I don’t know why I was so obsessed with shopping that day. I think it was because I had a part time job and was willing to spend around $100 on that beautiful Saturday afternoon. My heart kept telling me that this is what I deserve for having worked so hard. I need a break, I need to spoil myself a bit. Mom and I walked into various stores in Square One. I bought clothes from American Eagle and Suzy Shier. Of course, I only bought items which were on sale.

This was a great achievement, I had never bought branded clothes. I’m the usual, Desi immigrant type of person who likes to buy stuff from Walmart. And most certainly I had never bought an Aldo bag. So we were on our way to the food court. And just before I entered it I saw the Aldo store. My Mom told me how she longed to own an Aldo bag. So I suggested we go inside and take a look. Now some of you may already know that there are two Aldo stores, right beside each other. I have no idea why they have two stores and I never bothered asking why. However, we went into the first one. Roamed around, looked at bags, I realized that most of them look like shit and just aren’t my style. I wouldn’t let Mom buy any of those weird looking bags. It had to be the perfect one.

Mom decided that there was no need to buy a bag, there’s nothing good here, let’s just go to the food court and have something to eat. So I said “Fine, let‘s go”. We exited the store. My Mom wasn’t satisfied with the failed bag search. I just knew it. “Oh my! Another Aldo store! Okay Mom, let’s go inside!”. We were going to give it one more try. I cheerfully entered the store, constantly scanning my eyes on the items around me. And there it was. I found the bag. It was love at first sight and guess what, it wasn’t even on sale.

I ran to it like a Bollywood actress who is finally uniting with her lover in a song where he waits half way across the corn field with his arms open for her. I have found you! Finally! Oh how I longed to have a bag like you! It was perfect. Black, my favourite colour too. Huge bag; the straps were thick, joining the carriage part with metal rings. The side pockets were deep! Just the way I like a bag to be. There was a secure part in the middle with a zip. I took the bag off the rack and lo and behold! What is this!? A metallic chrome bag?! It was behind the black one. Wow! It must be my lucky day! Oh this is just marvellous I thought to myself! “Mom! Mom! Buy it, buy the black bag. Please Mom just buy it.” “Wait,” she said, “check the price.” Oh God, I totally forgot, yes the price, I should check the price.

I found the little tag which dangled off one of the metal rings…thirty dollars!? What the hell!? No, no, no! It can’t be! It just can’t…Oh God please don’t do this to me, please! “Hi Ma’am, may I help you?”, it was a sales representative. A white, blonde lady with a kind customer service smile, except hers wasn’t fake. “Oh, it’s okay, we were just looking around, I liked this bag but it’s not even on sale” I said to her sadly. “Well, I can give you five dollars student discount if you’d like” she replied positively. I looked at Mom, she looked back at me. No, not happening. “It’s okay,” I said to the representative, “thanks for your help.”

We exited the Aldo store, disheartened once again. Or wait, wasn’t it just me? My Mom didn’t show much interest in the bag, she did not feel the same way about it. Damn, I don’t even think she liked it as much. We had walked a few metres away and I screamed “Mom wait!”. “What, what happened?” she turned around asking me worryingly. “Mom, I need that bag. I need that bag Mom, I have to buy it before they run out.” “But it’s not even on sale Abeer.” “Yes Mom I know, but I really need it.” “Okay then go get it” she said.

I ran. I ran as if I could hear my bag calling me, wailing in disappointment. “Come back Abeer! Come back to me! Take me away from these shelves where people simply come and look at me! They don’t care enough to take me home! Come back Abeer! Take me away to your world.” “Yes I’m coming, don’t worry dear I’m coming to you, you don’t have to be afraid, you’re not alone anymore!…I’m here, I’m here.” I rushed into the store and to counter. “I’ll take it.” The blonde lady quickly looked up from her paper work, stunned to see me. “Oh you’re back!” she said smilingly. “Yes I am, I‘d like to buy the bag. I just know I have to buy it now, otherwise I‘ll regret it for the rest of my life.” “Haha, okay,” she chuckled. She went to the back and got me a new bag wrapped in plastic. “Is this the one Ma’am?” Oh my God! Yes that’s one I nodded happily. Oh beautiful chrome bag, oh you’re finally going to be mine.

I received a five dollars discount. I wouldn’t care even if I didn’t. Nothing could have stopped me from having it. And now, 10 months later, I still take it with me wherever I go. I never let go, not yet. I promised I’ll be with you forever. I see you’re being roughed up by the daily wear and tear. But don’t worry baggy, I’m going to find one just as good as you. It is time for you to rest now. You’re tearing apart. Soon enough, I will get a job and with my first salary I will buy a new Aldo bag. You will then rest peacefully in my wardrobe amongst 15 other bags. I will not throw you away. You will be mine forever, just like I promised. And I’ll always be there for you the way you’ve been for me.

Death; Transition to the Hereafter

2011-03-01T22:31:00.000-08:00

I walked into a home not knowing the man or his family. We entered while a sister was reciting prayers for the deceased man‘s soul. (May he rest in peace.) I sat on the carpeted floor with my hands raised and saying “Ameen” after each sentence. I glanced over and saw his daughters, young women, three of whom were still unmarried. He can’t give his daughters away, see his son graduate or to play with his grandchildren.

I looked at two toddlers in the room, crawling and running around silent mourners, blabbering away in baby talk with no worries. How innocent and ignorant they seemed; unaware of what lies ahead as they grow up into fine, young men.

Then I skimmed over the faces of the women sitting in that room. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts, probably reminding themselves of their own deaths to come. I did not know this man, but I know he was sent upon this earth with only one purpose. He, like the rest of us, was given allotted time to worship the Lord while living in a world full of trials, deceit, materialism and beauty. Now he’s returned to our Creator, someday we will too.

This afternoon the man’s body will be washed, covered in a clean, white shroud and placed into a wooden case. His friends and relatives will conduct the final prayers and then the body will be driven to a cemetery. He will be placed into the grave and covered. That’s it, four feet under soil, all alone. His books are closed, he had his time.

His hereafter will begin as soon as his friends and relatives walk away 40 steps. The agonizing pain of hell or sweet serenity of heaven awaits him. It awaits all of us. In our dark, compact graves our soul will return and two angels will descend upon us. We will be questioned; “Who is your lord? What is your religion? Who is your prophet?”…

"O mankind, fear your Lord and fear a Day when no father will avail his son, nor will a son avail his father at all. Indeed, the promise of Allah is truth, so let not the worldly life delude you and be not deceived about Allah by the Deceiver." [Surah Luqman (31:33)]

Abeer Parkar
25-May-2010

The Why to Studying Media Arts.

2009-07-17T11:58:00.001-07:00

By: Abeer Parkar
Written between 07-Apr and 16-Jul-2009

I am returning home after attending my last CCT (Communication, Technology & Culture) class of first year university. And my mind has this sudden urge, wanting to explode with ideas. As the 1st year comes to a close I feel as if my brain took a long swim in the media pool. Being a Konkani and maybe one of the few Indian Konkani members to venture into media studies has put me in a position others in my community haven’t even thought about stepping into. As a media studies student, I suddenly feel that I have a responsibility towards my Konkani community and I hold a degree which grants me this opportunity. In a way I want to prove to “my people” that being a doctor or engineer will not take you to the knowledgeable places I visited during the course of my study. There’s a quote from one of the books I recently read, Stephen Duncombe’s Dream. He says that the specialization of knowledge actually makes the society member ignorant of other important knowledge; issues that they should be concerned about.

Right now, what matters to me most is that I am able to read, learn and study new material and theories. And I will put all this into practical use! If I’m going to receive a degree just so that I can boast about studying media I’m basically fooling myself. So no, I’m not going to do that. Instead I would like to become an active member of society. I’m slowly becoming an integral part of society; one which controls its mind. I am joining the media workforce. By reading my work audience members (like yourself) might be influenced by my ideas.

So why is this important? Well, do you realize that you’ve become dependent on technology? You are being exposed to ideas, products, theories and intertextuality continuously. We, the media have become so ubiquitous that you have taken us for granted. But guess what, you can be a part of it too. If only you can stop thinking that Art is a waste. It is not; Art is driving you. You learn from Art. Language studies is just as important as Biology, Chemistry and Algebra. It is because of communication that you’re actually reading and comprehending my words. Words are important, symbols are important and ART is important!

Okay now forget media for a while, think about religious texts. Force your mind to think about the significance of the Quran in your life (If you‘re a follower of it). Some people read/memorize the Arabic text without understanding because they don‘t converse or write in the Arabic language. Most people in my family have memorized several verses/chapters but they don’t always know the translations. So tell me, what have you learnt from the Quran, unless you‘ve read and understood the translation. How will it positively affect your life and create inner peace if you don’t get the “message”? Now, I do not want to connect the Glorious Quran to media studies. I’m not going to get into any legal/religious complexity. I simply want to bring your attention to the significance of language. Language comes in different forms; it can be visual, aural or something else.

Whatever form it takes, it is important because it helps you learn. I hope most agree that the ability to learn is a great gift to mankind. Think about it, we are blessed because we can read and write English. If it wasn’t for English you wouldn’t even be reading my article right now. You probably wouldn’t know how to navigate through the internet either. If I didn’t know English or any other language, these ideas would have been stuck in my head all my life. I’d be unable to share my thoughts/opinions with anyone (…unless I‘m telepathic…).

However, at least by sharing my experience I can attract potential journalists and media professionals. Media is part of the global change! If you don’t understand it, as a language…as a form of communication, then you’re simply a passive audience member. You become less important because you have no opinions. Or you have opinions but aren’t able to express them.

Agreed, there are other forms of expression, but come on, is it really a fuss to be part of the news/educational media? Does it hurt to study Journalism and/or Arts? Think back a few years, our villages (in Ratnagiri, Maharashtra, INDIA) were bustling with farmers and fishermen. But now we have doctors, engineers and of course, travel agents. Education helped us rise. We merged into different careers and streams of study. So where has your passion disappeared now? Is this the end? Is science and travel & tourism your only contribution to the Konkani community?! Come on people, get on your feet! Don’t forget Media Studies! Television (news channels and soap operas), news papers, magazines, radio and the internet are giving shape to a changing society. You (The Kokani individual) are a part of this community…step up and be an active member. And this advice goes out to all the individuals who feel they can contribute to their own diverse communities by becoming a media professional or journalist.

This article is my contribution to the ethnic, Kokani community I belong to… where’s yours??? …………… Now relax and give it a thought.

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Peace.

Abeer Parkar -- an aspiring student-journalist from the multicultural city of Mississauga, Ontario, CANADA & a Kokani from the village of Kalusta (District:Ratnagiri), Maharashtra, INDIA.