Happy new year from Naim
Dear Friends,
Wish you all a very happy and prosperous new year 2012. May God bless you with good health, happiness, peace and contentment.
Regards
Naim.
Please note the new email address -
naimtkhan@gmail.com
The Rainbow at night
The long stretch of highway 5. As if someone took a 250 mile ruler and drew a line on earth. Two suns, one above and one in the river by which are footsteps of cars.
The tears that bring tears. The silent smiles and witty winks. Girls in the mall proud to show, men with questions invoking strength.
Steam pouring out of a cup of tea in the balcony after the dawn prayer. The train hurrying to a halt and the aeroplane waiting still, pasted in the sky wheels down and spirits up.
The dim green light bouncing off the love's cheek. Droplets on grass afraid of feet. Arnold's muscles and Stallone's guns. Sister's handwriting, father's gait.
David asked me again if they were all going to be as beautiful as I had described to him. I nodded. He pulled my shirt and leaned closer . I told him yes. "Yes, these are beautiful."
He smiled from ear to ear.
And said his prayer.
That one day God will grant him the blessing of seeing that man has taken for granted.
Naim.
November 9, 2009.
Close to the heart
As a small boy, I wanted to do big things when I grew up. Things that will astonish people, things that will make me famous and big and powerful. But as I grew up, what I learnt looking at my parents and my friends' parents and my teachers changed my perspective of what "BIG" was. My father used to tell me stories about his childhood and his father. He told me that the day he got his PhD, he wished grandfather was alive to see that moment - It would have been the best gift the son could give to his father. My Grandfather was a Deputy Superintendent of Police when he retired. That in itself was an achievent back in those days. But when I heard my father say that Grandfather had lost his father at a very early age, and how he survived on charity from relatives and unknown noble hearts, and how he struggled to become a self made righteous man, I could not but be moved. With all thanks to God, I wondered - if it was not for those noble people who helped my Grandfather after his father died, where would he have been, where would my father have been and where would I have been? These were simple people like you and me who took the time to help him at that young age. Their small act of 'following their heart' has earned them a reward from God that no paycheck or bonus can match. My father, my family and every one in our future generations are all indebted to these simple people - who were just like you and me.
These stories of hardship and overcoming those, changed my perspective of the world. I still wanted to do big things - but my definition of BIG has changed. Those simple people, did the real BIG thing. They changed the course of history. I am a Computer Networking Engineer in San Jose, California today, and I remember my dream now.
So what do I do?
I learnt about the Association for India's Development from a colleague, who they are and what they do. And at once I knew it was time for me to do my BIG thing. I liked their projects - the most touching were their education plans for the unprivileged or the underprivileged. For example, they have the "Tsunami Middle School" Project that will improve the quality of education provided by the middle schools in the region. They have several such projects as you can see on their website -
AidIndia How do I help them? I joined them.
We want to reach out to people like you and me. For that, we have undertaken that we will run the San Francisco Marathon race this year on July 26, 2009. Being my first go at a long distance race, I have decided to do a half marathon - 13.1 miles (21.08 KM). So yes, it is not simple - it is going to squeeze every bit of strength in me. But every drop of sweat during my trainings and during the race will be sweet because it will be for a good cause - to help the projects of AID and because I know that I am doing something both BIG and close to my heart. You can look at the progress I have made in my running since April 18 at this site :
Naim's Runs If you would like to support me in our path, please donate for this noble cause. We are reaching out to you through our running. Our every effort can be made meaningful only with your support. This year I plan to raise $2500 dollars. Try to donate as much as you can - as much as your heart tells you - and know that you have done something that eventually - maybe 3 generations later will inspire a young boy or a girl to do BIG THINGS.
There is no doubt that every penny you spend in this cause is actually spending it in God's way.
In the Holy Quran, God says (Chapter 2 verse 261) :
"The likeness of those who spend
of their substance in the way of God
is that of a grain of corn:
It grows seven ears, and each ear has a hundred grains.
God gives manifold increase to whom He pleases;
And God cares for all and He knows all things."
And the Bible is very clear in saying in Psalm 41:1 and 2: "Blessed is he that considerth the poor: the Lord will deliver him in time of trouble. The Lord will preserve him, and keep him alive; and he shall be blessed upon the earth: and thou wilt not deliver him unto the will of his enemies."
So take a few moments - please recognize the efforts that I am putting in, and as an appreciation, and believing in God's promise of everything good if we consider the poor, please donate generously. And God is always true to his Words.
Here is the link to read my blogs about the world, things define me :
Naim's Blog.
Here is my running graphs and training :
Naim's Runs.
Here is my Orkut page :
Naim in Orkut.
Here is the page to get to the donation button :
RunForIndia Naim's Page.
My email ID is this :
email. Please email me if you want any clarifications or details. I will be glad to get back in touch with you.
Please donate now, as much as you can. And make a difference in the lives of millions.
Yours Truly
Naim Tabriz Khan.
The Joy of our Lives
The lonely Crowd : http://blogs.thehindu.com/delhi/?p=19980
From: Jo
Date: May 11, 2009 11:16 PM
Subject: Re: website comment
To: g@gmail.com
Dear Gulnar,
Thank you for writing about my article. My daughter Moy Moy has a degenerative disorder which has caused her to regress developmentally. She is now 19 years old and doing pretty well. She uses a wheelchair to get around and gets her nourishment through a tube, but she is a happy delightful young woman and the joy of our lives.
Thank you for asking.
Jo Chopra
On Sun, Apr 26, 2009 at 2:31 PM, wrote:
Below is the result of your feedback form. It was submitted by
(g@gmail.com) on Sunday, April 26, 2009 at 14:31:44
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
name: Gulnar Khan
comments: I just read the beautiful article 'the lonely crowd' by Jo Chopra, and I am eager to know how her daughter Moy Moy is now, and what ailed her.
submit: send
empty plate
When you look back at your past, there are many things that stand out apart. As if these few bits and pieces in the collage held special meaning - the montage that comes out is simply prestine.
Or no great significance at all.
It could be as simple as the scent of that oil under the burning wick in the Madurai Dargah. It could be as big as standing with your mother in the long queue in the Collector's office awaiting your turn to know your 12th standard score. All the same, they are memories. Etched deep in your mind in gold. And when you least expect it, they flash in front of your eyes and take you to that very moment in time when they happened. You want to stay there a little longer reliving those moments. To get a closer look. To stand before that boy. To let him see you, but not recognize you. To look at that boy and wonder.
All of us wearing navy blue knickers and white half sleeve shirts tucked in...chasing dragon flies in the shrubs with no respect to the burning sun... those were the days of innocense. Of no care. All that mattered were the dragon flies. There - there's one...thats the one with the multicoloured tail...like a tiny helicopter.......walking tip toe with the black BATA shoes on those thorns, and besides those violet flowers shaped like funnels which cry in milk if you hurt them, the white socks helping the cause of pollination......trying with all the might to not make a sound, gently bringing out the hand from behind, towards the back of the dragon, studying its rhythm of when its wings meet and when they spread... calculating by instinct, pushing the hand closer...closer...SNAP....Gotcha! THAT FEELING!!! Immediately announcing to the world what was just accomplished...and getting that stare from the classmate because you scared away his dragon fly.
Then I remember the picture of me throwing a bit paper to my classmate "Paruppu" and both of us getting caught by Shiny miss.
Being made the class leader by Jannath miss...When she pinned the black chip with my name etched on it on my shirt above my pocket in front of the whole class - I remember thinking how my mother would feel seeing this.
My mother being told not to punish me for being naughty by Margaret miss...
Exam season. Exam pads were suddenly cricket bats. The few privileged ones whose aunts lived "gulf-la" had the steel bats with smaller holders with alligator teeth. Others had to make do with wooden pads with big bulky paper holders with that the characteristic thin steel blunt pin protruding through the hole in the handle...Cholakkaruthu (half a maize pod, stripped of its pearls) was the ball...the red bricks from the construction site beyond the fence in the PF building were brought to mark the "bails" on the neem tree. The crease was not one and a half times the length of the pad - who were you kidding? The cholakkaruthu was also used for another serene game called "yerippandhu". Its a game that should rightly hold its place in the olympics. Any number of people can play this game - from 3 to 15. The game is started with a ritual that will put the newzealand rugby HAKA routine to shame. The boy with the special ball shouts "PANDHEY PANDHEY", everyone else shouts back "ENNA PANDHEY"...the first boy shouts "THOOKKI POTTA"...then all shout "YERI PANDHEYYYYYY". The translation of these sacred lyrics goes like this - "BALL BALL"...."WHAT BALL?"..."If I throw"...."ITS THROW BALL". Now dont you dare make fun of this practice. The ball is now aimed carefully at the closest boy and thrown with such force that Arnold's rocket launcher in Commando will bow down to his powers. Everyone checks to see if he was the chosen one...but the real chosen one will know by the sweet sound of cholakkaruthu on supple skin.
Pictures in my mind of my cute sister in her green petty coat with eyes half open to confront the bright sun :)
Girls. In 4th standard, they were just... you know... shall I say... did not stand apart, did not grab much attention, did not waste our time, let us mind our own business. Well, I dont know if they knew, but the boys used to play a game...if they happened to touch or even brush by a girl, everyone around that boy would touch their hair... the victim now has to look out for a boy who is not holding his hair, then touch him (pass the curse) and now hold his own hair. Thats how it was played and I bet the girls didnt have a clue :)
My birthday is June 4th and I never got to wear "colourdress" to school on my birthday because school would always reopen on June 5th. After the summer holidays in the middle years of school, it was always fun to get back...friends...the boys always remained boys but the girls started noticeably changing a lot. Once in a while some people from outside would come and call only the girls out to another empty class room. We boys were left to wonder what the heck was happening in there. There was a rumor that one boy knew what was going - the girls were being shown some videos. Why this partiality? When they all came back to class in a row, they all looked scared, looking down. Some were giggling. They were all carrying something in their hands trying hard to hide it. We asked Shruti what it was but she wouldnt say.
Jumping while riding the kinetic with Ammi sitting behind and screaming at me to stop..haha...she gets really scared when I do such things...well she has every right to be scared...its not like I have accident immunity looking at my road record.
Those were the days.
It had just rained. The sun was out, giving birth to the faintest rainbow. So Ammi need not take the auto to office. I could drop her this saturday morning since I did not have work today. So we started in Abba's Hero Honda. She wore a silk saree that day because there was some function in her office.
I chose to take short cuts whenever I could to avoid Chennai traffic that knows no mercy even on Saturdays. From Valluvarkottam to get to Jemini, theres a nice not-so-well-known-shortcut that I enjoy taking. We cruised along. Ammi was already getting late. She would pull my shirt from behind when I sped. This was the button to slow me down because I was wearing a helmet that was impervious to words like "slow down". But songs would make it right through to my ears. Ammi and I that day were singing old heartwarming songs - "Zindagi bhar nahin...bhulegi woh barsaat ki raat...Ek anjaan haseena se....mulaakat ki raat..."...I pulled up the visor to make sure my contribution to the song could be heard.... and to enjoy the cool breeze blowing on my face...and to smell that smell of sand after the rain. Right then...
Right then Ammi pulled my shirt hard...but I wasnt even going 30kmph. I sensed something wrong and pulled over to the side of the road. Ammi got down after the Premier Padmini zoomed past. She pointed me to the man sitting on the steps of a petty shop that hadnt even opened that early. He was wearing bits and pieces of cloth that was once been a proud purchase. Not by him, it was clear. His lungi had a million holes. He hadnt cleaned himself for God knows how long. And what was more clear was that he had not eaten. For God knows how long. Ammi opened the side box in the bike, whose lock I once broke open because I lost its key. She took out her tiffin box. And without a moment of hesitation except to look right-left-right as she was taught in school, started to cross the road and walked towards him. She asked him something or said something that I could not hear from across the road. She bent down as he thrusted his plate towards her feet, she moved a few steps back. Opened her tiffin box and emptied its contents into his plate, gave a smile to him.
I kept looking across the road for an eternity after she had walked back to me, and put her hand on my right shoulder, stepped on the pedal and sat herself behind me, and said lets go. I turned on the ignition, kicked the bike to start it, put it on gear and moved. There were no more songs. I could sing no more. I pulled shut my visor, and cried. Tears started gushing out of my eyes. I couldnt speak a word. I was too moved, too proud, to be her son. The image from across the road, of my mother in a red and crimson silk saree bending down to transfer the lunch she had hurriedly packed, into the plate of a beggar that morning - moved me beyond words, beyond anything in this world that has moved me. I cried and cried behind the visor inside my helmet. I tried my best to not show. Ammi does not have a clue. Dont tell her.
When I get old, and Allah decides to relieve me of memories, I wish he would be so kind as to let me have just one for myself - this one scene from the collage - that of my mother in silk smiling at the beggar.
Purity
I should have checked the label. My car battery was dying all the more often these days, and I wanted to waste no time in getting myself prepared for the next outage. I thought this item in the shelf looked similar to the one Talha had. I thought I could charge it at home, and keep it in the car. And pull it out when my battery decides to just get up and go to lunch. I bought it, came home, opened it, and saw that it had the cigarrette lighter power connector, and looked completely different from Talha's. Hmm... so now I have to read the instructions. Its then that I learnt - this piece of fine engineering is actually to take power from the car battery - and I can power laptops and such with this. If this device just knew the condition of my car battery, it would have laughed along with me.
What a blunder.
One thing I like about USA is that we can return things like this back to the store with no need to explain why. Well as a formality, they do ask you. You can say things like - "I didnt like it", "My neighbor has a better one - I am going to get that", or "I could really do with that cash back in my pocket". I think they liked mine - "I made a blunder".
It was a blunder for sure. But something happened that day when I went back to return it. I felt as if I was somehow made to make this mistake - to bring me back to the store. I was going to witness something beautiful. Something that will stay with me the rest of my life. Something I will want to share with the rest of the world.
I was standing in the boring line at the customer service counter. I was eighth or ninth in the queue. I decided to try to listen harder to amuse myself with stories that these people in front of me had brought with them. One person was returning a photo frame. That was the height of it. Man, what could be wrong with a photo frame that he did not notice before buying? Maybe his wife did not like it? Maybe he found that his desk was too big for the frame? Maybe he lost the photo that was
supposed to go in it? Or did he lose the girl whose photo this was for? As I leaned forward to get a better listen of what he was trying to explain, I got distracted. An employee of the store was trying to make his way through to the front of the line. He was a tall man, and had to bend his stature a little to be able to hold the hand of the small girl he was walking.
She must have been 5 years old. She was wearing a pink full sleeved T shirt with a hood hanging behind her neck, dark green pants. Kids are always so beautiful. But this Chinese girl was a ball of such cuteness. But something was wrong. It was easy to see the restlessness. She was trying to cover all 360 degrees in one go. She was trying to break away - but unsure of what she will do once she is free.
She was lost. Walmart is so huge, grownups get lost. When my phone battery went dead once and I couldnt call my friend, it took me 20 minutes to find my friend in this expanse.
All this girl could see was people, people and more people everywhere. She couldn't see her mother. She was cringing with discomfort. Tears flooded her purple cheeks. She couldn't care less about wiping them away. Shew had left that job to gravity. Her uncontrollable emotions would make her involuntarily lift her foot a few inches in the air now and then. She crumbled in pain, leaving me wondering how her tiny heart was being tested. It looked like someone just took away her air supply and she was locked up in a glass room with no air.
She would suddenly stop - no one but God knows what goes on in the girls mind the next 5 seconds - Is she trying to remember how her mother looks? - Does she feel a sudden rush of confidence that she has to be strong now more than ever? did she suddenly forget how to cry? Did someone just stumble over the power cable and pull it out of the wall socket?
Then as if the power comes back after the blackout - she starts crying again.
The elderly lady at the service counter was trying to get the name of the girl. But the resistance from the girl was infinite. She looked at everyone as danger. She didnt stand still for half a second - turning in circles that would put the radar screen to disgrace.
Accepting defeat, they just announced that a girl aged such and such, wearing such and such is here at the customer service desk, requesting the parents to come for the girl.
I kept looking at the girl. Thinking whether her mother heard the calls or not. If they did, did they understand? What must be going on in the minds of her parents? Their hearts must be racing with the shock - "Will we ever find her?"; "how could we be so careless?"; "has she been kidnapped?"
The girl was facing the desk near the beginning of our line, still crying, but a little subdued now. She was looking at the lady in the counter. A beautiful lady appeared on my side, and started walking with commendable pace towards the girl. It mush have been the sound of her shoes that the little girl was so familiar with - she turned back as if her name was being called on her ear out of a horn.
The moment she laid her eyes on her mother - is the picture that I will carry for ever. The girl's then subdued cry shot up with such force that it commanded her mother to kneel down and fling her arms open at once. The little girl honoured the mother's beckon by crying louder and more uncontrollably - and ran towards the warmth.
Mother got up picking the girl clinging to her chest, cheeks soaked, face buried, cries muffled, eyes shut.
The mother waved to the lady at the counter who was more than happy to get back her space, and left. I kept looking in the direction where the girl was when she laid her eyes on her mother when she found her. And I kept seeing her long after they had gone. It felt like an eternity had just passed by me. Did I just witness love in its truest, yet simplest form? That between a mother and her own?
I realized that all this had occured and ended and I only had to move a couple of steps ahead in the line. I have the receipt of return so I must have returned the piece. My car is parked in the garage so I must have driven back home. The plate is in the sink, so I must have eaten. But I dont remember.
But what stays with me from that day, takes no effort to remember.
Wish you were there.
Naim.
People like you
It was my second visit to Albany, New York. My work brought me here. I felt honored that my company would send me to solve this difficult problem at our customer site. The tall buildings all around did not hide the wide hearts of the people I crossed ways with. Almost everybody was kind. Their broad smiles in the cold heavy winter air reminded me of the California sun. Well, all except for the waitress at the Spanish diner Sunday night who took away my plate when I had enough in it to make another mouthful, but not enough to object - she reminded me of God.
The work was done. The name was restored. The time was right - for a little celebration. I decided to treat myself to a one and a quarter pound lobster. My purpose in Albany would be complete. Not wanting to risk the clock interrupting my fine lunch, I had collected the boarding pass and checked in my luggage with the airlines at 2. The flight back home was at 5. I had all the time the lobster would demand of me, and still be left with some for the security check before boarding the plane. I loved the way indulgence felt. It somehow brought out my serene memory of the full moon at the heart of that july night that lit the empty dust road by the paddy fields with no soul but mine privileged to enjoy it. Contentment.
It was time to say goodbye now. To beautiful Albany. Albany - which gave me my first snow shower. The place that taught me how ice is fire. I couldnt help thinking - neither Ice nor Fire can wound me any more.
The city whose cold could freeze all motion.
Singing aloud in the car I drove it to the return location. I dropped the red Impala, filled out the form, thanked the attender, and was on my way to the airport building on foot. Then halfway across the zebra crossing, I realized - I had forgotten something in the car. O My GOD, I had bought it after a lot of deliberation on which brand to buy. I stood there for a second thinking if I should go back for it - I still had 45 minutes for takeoff. I turned back.
I walked up and down the lot looking for the vehicle - I was sure the keys would be in the car and I would then just take the cable and be on my way. To my dismay, I couldnt find the car. And I couldnt find the attendant who had helped me but a few minutes back. I walked up to another attender and told him about my situation. He asked me to talk to another employee who was just getting into another returned car. I stopped him and said I forgot something in my car. He smiled and asked me the details of the car and said "Jump in!", shouting to the other man - "He forgot something in the car - I'll be back". He started driving me.
I asked him where they take the returned cars. "5 miles south". WHAT??? My God!!! "I dont want to miss my flight!". He said "We will see" with a smile. I was completely beyond myself on what to expect. If I were to miss the flight, it would be the a costly mistake. He said he will call me a cab to get me back to the airport. Now just hold on one second. I felt comfortable with this man who looked to be in his early 50s. I was sure he was joking, but if I turned out to be wrong, only I was to blame.
On our way we saw a police man questioning a lady at the window of her car parked by the side of the road. Our hero said - "Wow, at last!! - she was talking on the phone driving erratic here and there - and boy, am I happy she got caught". I figured this road must carry my man many times a day.
We entered the open air garage with many many cars parked for inspection - all returned cars. He waved at at least 5 people from the entrance till the time I identified my Impala. I pointed the car to him, he stopped, I got down, ran a few feet, opened the door, and then, there it was - my stereo headphones cable I use for my blackberry phone to listen to music with. I dont know what the reaction of the driver was when he saw what that "something" was, but I know I was not sure if I wanted to know. I was too busy feeling happy I would not miss my music in the flight after all. So I jumped in to the car along with the driver and we were on our way. I couldnt help thinking I cant thank him enough - for what its worth, Im coming back in the same car and not a cab I would have had to pay for. I pulled out a bunch of cash I so characteristically had stashed into my left jeans pocket. I picked out 5 dollars from the handful, and put back the rest.
I asked him if he was allowed to drive customers like this to pick up lost things, to which he replied "Well, I only broke 15 or 20 rules with you today. My supervisor cant question me, you know why? Because he doesnt know. Always remember - no matter what wrong you do, always make sure there is no witness. You can commit any crime, but make sure there is no witness". I gave him a smile of disagreement. Disagreeing that what he did does not come under "wrong". And, disagreeing that the self is more witness than any video camera can ever hope to be. But I did not talk back, since I knew he was proud of having helped me today.
We reached the spot we started our 10 minute journey from. He turned back and smiled - "There! You didnt miss the flight after all". I reminded him that I still had security clearance to pass through. He suggested, "Well talk your way through the line - scare people that you are going to miss your flight - believe me - people dont like to feel guilty". Without letting him turn his eyes away, I offered the money I had ready for him in my hand, "Can I give you this?". It was easy to see he was happy. I could almost sense his satisfaction that his deed did not go unrewarded after all.
He remarked "Of course - thank you very much! Isn't this what makes the world go round - The Green!"
"No" I told him. "Its people like you".
Naim Tabriz Khan.
Albany, NY - February 25, 2009.
