New Angels

Days go by so quickly, but once in a while, the clock stops, and you find out that out of the blue, someone you love and care for suddenly passes away from this world.

At those moments, I am struck by my memories and am in wonder whether I could have pushed the time a little further back to share another minute, a conversation or hug with people we love. Its ironic that the people we miss the most are those who gave so much of themselves in life.

Perhaps that is what it is all about...

"You would know the secret of death.
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?
The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.
If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.

In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;
And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.
Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.
Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?
Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance."

KHALIL GIBRAN

Marches in Mumbai

I was struck today listening to NPR's report of marches in Mumbai, how thousands of people flooded the streets marching in solidarity against the bombing attacks last week, some calling out for war, for peace, for justice by the government, mourning over relatives, and anger against Pakistan, and anger at the security forces that did not do enough to prevent this tragedy from happening.

As i heard the news, a strange sense of culture rooted me into the story. As if I was pulled into this chapter of current events and felt deep concerns about the issues that the news report focused on. I felt deeply connected to my background.

My family is from Pakistan.

While the reporter continued his story, I could see the faces, sense the feelings of outrage and hurt, and could fathom the loss of life in an instant of a loved one unfairly. Their voices were angry, passionate, determined and demanding justice. Somehow the sound of their cries were heard, and I felt sorry, sad and unsure what I should do.

My Father risked his life as a 13 year old boy as he traveled by train with millions of others when he left India during the partition. He was hiding in a basket, witnessed many atrocities that I never asked him about, and then he life in Pakistan began.

Amazing, how many thousands of miles away we are, back to the present, that when I first heard foggy details about the killings in Mumbai, I was at my sister's in Upstate NY, enjoying thanksgiving, and learning a to play Apples to Apples and laughing together about how many arguments we could create around words.

Whenever people ask me where I am from, I say I am an American with Pakistani Parents, not a Pakistani born in America

And yet, now I feel connected to them, that part of the world. Is this because the sound of the injustice from the voices rang so true to me, or because I was connected to their pain, connected to their hurt and want so much to help fix it. Everyone should fix it. I even thought up a campaign for all Pakistanis around the world to wear the Indian national colors in solidarity with their loss (White Saffron and Green anyone?).