tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222537582024-03-14T02:08:12.354-07:00Riz smiles with ReasonAbout the moments we take pictures of.
Bec we know the mind fails us all.
Eventually.Nusrat Fatima Jafrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05478091856212987071noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22253758.post-19157014421416847332017-09-18T10:18:00.000-07:002017-09-18T10:26:10.053-07:00Junnu Mammu!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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June Bhai is old now. But Dylan (my 3.5yr old son) is older than him.<br />
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My sister Itrat, explained this well, "All kids grow up, but Juney remains the baby of the house."<br />
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Dylan has grown past his curious questions of wondering when Junnu would start talking. He adores Junnu Mammu the way he is.<br />
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June and Dylan love each other. I'm hoping to start writing about my son and my brother's special relationship, here.<br />
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Nusrat Fatima Jafrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05478091856212987071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22253758.post-40565232292664577772013-11-01T02:37:00.000-07:002013-11-01T02:37:05.993-07:00Lets Play! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Thank you for reading and sharing my last post. Hope it can make a tiny difference somewhere! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Here's a HAPPY Post with photos of my Techno friendly brother! :)</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjSAXVBoN3O82q4bIVuk9MnVuGGfCrIsSfofmI9g1yP4kcZqxvFG_VAmqnfd2HF-YeJnum6JQp42Vi9dcO2A7D1IOq1f19hoUbNmGLKZGT6_06iKJEyZf6FL3pmAZOZ4QN1zTheg/s1600/2013-06-28+15.42.09.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjSAXVBoN3O82q4bIVuk9MnVuGGfCrIsSfofmI9g1yP4kcZqxvFG_VAmqnfd2HF-YeJnum6JQp42Vi9dcO2A7D1IOq1f19hoUbNmGLKZGT6_06iKJEyZf6FL3pmAZOZ4QN1zTheg/s320/2013-06-28+15.42.09.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Busy exploring the Tabla Ap on Mummy's Tablet. In fact he's great on it</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm8FA7MGwXY9_R__zb0AumxBefF25jkTTG17R_BW3_Oov81krYKg4Cg9Vt6nc-R_R4yyvitkLcrjiq9OmLcsuHfrWnzkPP9lrFfHDYItVYL1WekAH82MS2A67Ef2eShGo0io78yQ/s1600/2013-06-28+15.43.26.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm8FA7MGwXY9_R__zb0AumxBefF25jkTTG17R_BW3_Oov81krYKg4Cg9Vt6nc-R_R4yyvitkLcrjiq9OmLcsuHfrWnzkPP9lrFfHDYItVYL1WekAH82MS2A67Ef2eShGo0io78yQ/s320/2013-06-28+15.43.26.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Uno! And look who won! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB0Uk6kpiwLsT5CXiHOFfptMJBMpN5BBOxP3XAP1TOBQzMfSa4mX12N-BCEdZcKJiHpi7NKFrn5TJgyf68HChd2F7GG8G-V9GOGjr894NrkzdVdmaj_MHmfQ1IFvbezLM0Z53Rxw/s1600/20130411_103615.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB0Uk6kpiwLsT5CXiHOFfptMJBMpN5BBOxP3XAP1TOBQzMfSa4mX12N-BCEdZcKJiHpi7NKFrn5TJgyf68HChd2F7GG8G-V9GOGjr894NrkzdVdmaj_MHmfQ1IFvbezLM0Z53Rxw/s320/20130411_103615.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Favorite toy!</td></tr>
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Nusrat Fatima Jafrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05478091856212987071noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22253758.post-11526223377718499662013-10-30T22:40:00.000-07:002013-10-30T22:59:44.129-07:00No County for Special People <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Let me admit, I have written and deleted similar posts many times in the past. It's about the truth we mask with love to protect our brother. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Last night when my elder brother Arshad was reversing his car to drop me to my place, he pointed out a group of young boys sitting under his apartment window. He said that when he was placing the new curtains, he saw these boys along with a couple of girls, (who live in the same building) point up at him. They were discussing if he was the "mad guy" or not. They were talking about June. It didn't bother them, that Chiggu bhai (Arshad) was looking at them or could hear them. </div>
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Neither my brother nor I were shocked by this incident. Every time, people behave like this, regarding June Bhai, it just leaves us stoic. The coldness with which people say such things, transcends to us as coldly as it were meant. Mostly. But sometimes we break. </div>
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Why are people so scared of what they don’t understand? My
brother’s brain is severely damaged but to the “young educated adults in my housing
society” he is a spectacle to talk about or to stare at through the window of
his first floor apartment. Uneducated children from the nearing slums think
it’s “funny” to pelt an occasional marble or a pebble at him if he’s sitting unattended at
the window. Luckily, he's never got hurt. Luckily the vigilant watchmen have driven these children off the compound.</div>
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It’s June’s birthday next month. Mummy and I wanted to take
him to a park. But our immediate concern was that it’s on a Sunday and the
place will be crowded. People will stare at us and laugh at him. June has no
understanding of why people laugh at him, but as his family, we feel
exasperated and torn between, ‘should we tell them not to laugh and explain his
condition, or should we ignore them or perhaps should we express our anger?’<o:p></o:p></div>
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This post is not just about my brother. It is about a general attitude the Indian society has, towards people with special needs. Forget being sensitive to people with special needs the only
thing the public in India can do is to indeed make such people feel “out of
place”. </div>
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At the recently concluded Mumbai Film Festival, delegates were cueing up to
get into the theaters hours before the actual shows. The venue was crowded with the same competitive air you witness at any local train station in Mumbai.
On one such day, an elderly man, with a limp was climbing a staircase ahead of
me, feeling impatient at being slowed down because of his handicap, a young boy pushed
both the elderly gentleman and me to move up. I felt bad and took a resolve to not let anyone
do the same, by guarding his space. I could sense the frustration people
felt behind me…but what the hell?</div>
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Some friends complain of crying infants in flights. Crying
infants. Pray what are these young parents supposed to do, pack up their infants
and check them in with their luggage? I have seen young couples feel so
embarrassed when their babies cry at take off. Just the way I feel embarrassed
when Juney as much as opens his mouth on the flight. The words of Rahul Gupta the Indigo employee, who once denied us our boarding passes, echoing in my mind, "Your brother seems aggressive and is a potential threat to the safety of passengers."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Why is that when most Indians see a person with mental or
physical disabilities they get overwhelmed with sympathy or callousness? Some even feel compelled to offer weird logic like "pichle janam main kuchh burra kiya hoga!," Yes I have actually been told that too.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Loves looking out of the window</td></tr>
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In my brother’s case, we are lucky to have an excellent group of friends and family.
Our friends have their own equation with him. When little kids of our friends visit the house
and are curious about June, I have heard some beautiful explanations from their parents.
Ranging from “He’s a big baby!” to “He is a small baby who had a lot of
bournvita so he looks big, but is actually small!” To the plain truth, that “he
had got hurt as a child and is special.”</div>
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When you teach your child to be sensitive they are so quick
to learn. Kids love June, but you just have to give them the special
introduction he deserves! Likewise, adults in India need sensitizing programs to help make the society friendlier to people with special needs. We need to learn to be patient and allow everyone the equal space they demand in society. Old people, infants, children who are still learning the fine world of manners, people with special needs, whether mental or physical. Our judgements on individuals need introspection. </div>
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"The, Thank god, you didn't make me like this" approach needs to change! Please be thankful, but not derogatory to anyone.</div>
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It's high time!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--StartFragment-->
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg6EBJ8-zcO1X-VEMmnyMl8e0Qc0mPlntZEiQSpq0LhXxtuXnIGEytcKl18-Zp-4IvS1h2W6D0X0QWn9XTV03u0SmjVLbLxndhxpK4_xdFsgoBvhyphenhyphenb9gddc0jZK2w6jROiWpFACg/s1600/20130411_110309.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg6EBJ8-zcO1X-VEMmnyMl8e0Qc0mPlntZEiQSpq0LhXxtuXnIGEytcKl18-Zp-4IvS1h2W6D0X0QWn9XTV03u0SmjVLbLxndhxpK4_xdFsgoBvhyphenhyphenb9gddc0jZK2w6jROiWpFACg/s200/20130411_110309.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Window love!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI3KD60P5tO_GKH6DHcqrwD1GWH5H2XeWZVyNLlw1ON6vMLpgZmhrjEJMSItMROZBqiPKzbiVdPE31qF5VuQw3QnEOKESxfZD5argJQdMIsMQhWAZyUTxbbtF7slGQPEhQ8X4g_Q/s1600/20131017_213214.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI3KD60P5tO_GKH6DHcqrwD1GWH5H2XeWZVyNLlw1ON6vMLpgZmhrjEJMSItMROZBqiPKzbiVdPE31qF5VuQw3QnEOKESxfZD5argJQdMIsMQhWAZyUTxbbtF7slGQPEhQ8X4g_Q/s320/20131017_213214.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hell! I'm sleepy but I have to hear this song first! :)</td></tr>
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<br /></div>
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Nusrat Fatima Jafrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05478091856212987071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22253758.post-86501888173015107812013-05-13T11:39:00.002-07:002013-05-13T11:43:10.083-07:00"He Called me Mumma!"<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5tzCNQ2j0P-lZnwjcW5wxoKkndzy_oTYmcPI7BWRIu8pAsk7SjmE0dFKZgJIEXFcOFvRDFeY4qEA8PQ1OTkvc5KqrFM7L3FEPDb7afxcgqgd-9zyjT7XQlcdW9Psk8CTe-TjAcA/s1600/PaperArtist_2013-04-03_21-36-05.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5tzCNQ2j0P-lZnwjcW5wxoKkndzy_oTYmcPI7BWRIu8pAsk7SjmE0dFKZgJIEXFcOFvRDFeY4qEA8PQ1OTkvc5KqrFM7L3FEPDb7afxcgqgd-9zyjT7XQlcdW9Psk8CTe-TjAcA/s1600/PaperArtist_2013-04-03_21-36-05.jpeg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"He's going to start talking at 40," that is what my
Naana used to say about June. I had never met Naana, but Mummy has told me this
story many times. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Since last year Juney has been unwell. It’s been one
illness after the other. Including an increase in tremors, which scared all of
us and brought back memories we never wanted to visit again. He's better now, though
his balance is seriously affected.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Post illness, June has emerged more intelligent and
emotionally very sensitive. He tries to shape words in his mouth but his tongue
fails him. Sometimes he tries really hard and some long sentences of jumbled
words flow. It’s gibberish. But then we’ve never desired words with
June. His eyes have always done the talking. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ1pHzOZc070HMt-NQxdfEsVN2v6VOZraqPcbpd9jHflds4zlchVGKvDnbFyLryfgVim7xn0GoDNhv246KwrDjSkzrpbqmyEJAQwbbEluMbsTDuLIVoEQBz-qcgIouFJpUg_CTXA/s1600/20130330_173404.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ1pHzOZc070HMt-NQxdfEsVN2v6VOZraqPcbpd9jHflds4zlchVGKvDnbFyLryfgVim7xn0GoDNhv246KwrDjSkzrpbqmyEJAQwbbEluMbsTDuLIVoEQBz-qcgIouFJpUg_CTXA/s1600/20130330_173404.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Bhai is extremely dependent on Mummy now. She is
the constant in his life. Recently, I was helping her re-arrange her cupboard, her saris
were strewn all over the bed. I noticed that Juney was looking concerned; he
would look at the saris and then look at me, questioningly, as if dreading that Mom was packing for a trip.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My pet name is Sona and for years June has called
me "MamMam," more recently he started calling me "Ona" and my
latest name from Bhai is "Amna." Mummy pointed out that "Amna
was the name of the Prophet’s mother. "I love my new name, I love it's meaning.
It means Peace.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">June’s favorite spot in the house is the window
ledge. He likes to perch himself there and look at kids playing and at cars
passing by. Being busy for a few days I couldn’t visit Mummy, so Juney
started throwing tantrums. And on one of those evenings, when Juney was in a
bad temper, mummy observed that he was trying to get the attention of a few
young girls standing downstairs. Seeing that Mummy had noticed, he smiled and looked
her in the eye and said, "Amna."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He was contented the rest of the evening, because
he was able to put words to an emotion. He was missing his Amna!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yesterday, my phone rang late at night, "He
called me Mumma," mummy exclaimed ecstatically! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">June has a few favorite words, one is
"eeeeeeeeee" more recently "abbababababa" and for as long
as I have known him, "mummmmmmmamamama." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But a well-formulated “Mumma” spoken just for
mummy, to mummy, with that look in his eyes as she hugged him, meant the world
to her!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was a conversation, between her and June. A one-word
sentence, that outlined their relationship. Something that makes her want to live, to
enjoy and absorb more from the gift that Juney is!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVFN8hQTxfU7vKnMz1LiSG8ZGCcysn6Dss7UAFAYQlvWXeJabcL1qtD1wwRMEhR6V_JZqaAeIvRaPNm03svxviGdkDAJZSqZiU6UNnAVQqB9pz56XFRbD6RbYU7TaznjopZxL7xQ/s1600/20130317_180310.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVFN8hQTxfU7vKnMz1LiSG8ZGCcysn6Dss7UAFAYQlvWXeJabcL1qtD1wwRMEhR6V_JZqaAeIvRaPNm03svxviGdkDAJZSqZiU6UNnAVQqB9pz56XFRbD6RbYU7TaznjopZxL7xQ/s1600/20130317_180310.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying the Sea on a bike!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<!--EndFragment-->Nusrat Fatima Jafrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05478091856212987071noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22253758.post-75113737862704620022012-10-31T23:10:00.000-07:002012-10-31T23:10:05.296-07:00Have you seen this yet?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
My website! View it now!! </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
www.nusratjafri.com</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZfo-H9yRXLqUacpj3qPEMNDVP6-hV24Dav6BcYiue6IGSgl9Gr0DkjJiN-onc7ArjAAsw8IARPuwwrxrxiyOox7mqgOWfHj57FWF_Vv2ngevqqkut6kHTIPQ4PqRegBucpLkr5A/s1600/screen+print.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZfo-H9yRXLqUacpj3qPEMNDVP6-hV24Dav6BcYiue6IGSgl9Gr0DkjJiN-onc7ArjAAsw8IARPuwwrxrxiyOox7mqgOWfHj57FWF_Vv2ngevqqkut6kHTIPQ4PqRegBucpLkr5A/s320/screen+print.bmp" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj00mPkbfFrmQ8Wd-jdnCcWqKic6ppH9x5LZn_8P5Sa5Onlh5Uh8dzdzHxUaum2yw9ioeA0Rz-VZCdM6QGfguTeoCbXcUWhCBEpNV7hYYYmHGOWqzKnpmMrotGQH0ZZQ_l_V9gdqw/s1600/website+screen+print.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj00mPkbfFrmQ8Wd-jdnCcWqKic6ppH9x5LZn_8P5Sa5Onlh5Uh8dzdzHxUaum2yw9ioeA0Rz-VZCdM6QGfguTeoCbXcUWhCBEpNV7hYYYmHGOWqzKnpmMrotGQH0ZZQ_l_V9gdqw/s320/website+screen+print.bmp" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
Nusrat Fatima Jafrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05478091856212987071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22253758.post-10587799901042527602012-10-31T22:46:00.001-07:002012-10-31T22:46:18.648-07:00Hello Is Junnu There?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I finally got Juney on the phone. I spoke for 5 mins and he heard me babble for that much time. It's quite a big task to get him on the phone. Actually, that's the easy part; he likes mobile phones, but only for listening to music. To get him to actually listen to you talk, is the bigger challenge!<br />
<br />
I applied a different strategy today, speaking to him like a grown up. I told him I'll be coming to Lucknow next month to take him back. And that I miss him because no one makes tea for me anymore. QED!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGKRmqIhgq85W18v6_OS1p8MlJFc0j7UkEtviv741SmFQDqOLHnPskyJBhV34jJwYMILs_I9f5ztHzhOLgEjVAiS9b1H0m_or8mbaqPvSqLTOsnKS-EeWNTP6OSSrTN4-jN-1SPQ/s1600/IMG_4254.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGKRmqIhgq85W18v6_OS1p8MlJFc0j7UkEtviv741SmFQDqOLHnPskyJBhV34jJwYMILs_I9f5ztHzhOLgEjVAiS9b1H0m_or8mbaqPvSqLTOsnKS-EeWNTP6OSSrTN4-jN-1SPQ/s320/IMG_4254.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Phone to his Ear , not without style though!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Nusrat Fatima Jafrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05478091856212987071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22253758.post-85718875054303876722012-09-10T05:43:00.001-07:002012-10-31T22:49:57.904-07:00Pappa...I Miss You!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Pappa...I love you!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">I took a train to office, collected a P2 Card and left for 3 different locations for shoot. Between lighting and waiting, my mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Pappa. My mind was playing re runs of "this day - three years back"...I couldn't help myself from being sad, so I started typing on my phone.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">Today is the saddest day of my life. Three years back I lost a parent and learnt the meaning of a new emotion. An emotion I mistakenly associated only with my trivial break-ups (with my then boyfriend and now husband), and fights with siblings. Something that fooled me for 29 years to teach me its true meaning ruthlessly - Grief.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Three years...of not seeing Pappa and not hearing his voice.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">How unimaginable this seemed on 10th of September three years back, when the news was first broken to me. Over these days and months and years, I have come to realize that, self healing is a wonderful thing. I can't say I've completely reconciled to Pappa's absence but for now its in the little things in my life where I find Pappa.</span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOQL79CDkqMWSkTjfwL3vGMu2YdZ3g9QSAYIYkwGHgy05PSyrh2coTNH2bHFGNVjqXTkN95REJxb9bUrcrnmuhPYBwuaqpb1av8hLjx-KOZY3TS7urPdixK28tYqi4OCW8GOnnxw/s1600/chiggu+b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOQL79CDkqMWSkTjfwL3vGMu2YdZ3g9QSAYIYkwGHgy05PSyrh2coTNH2bHFGNVjqXTkN95REJxb9bUrcrnmuhPYBwuaqpb1av8hLjx-KOZY3TS7urPdixK28tYqi4OCW8GOnnxw/s200/chiggu+b.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Chiggu bhai, tired from work, but nonetheless, excitedly serving mithai to mummy, feeding us all from the same katori- just like pappa used to. Chiggu Bhai's face, but Pappa's voice in my head...</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Sonaji hum aap ke liye apples aur kaaju barfi laye hain."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">In June's rare pensive expression fading into a shy smile. That tiny bit of nostril flaring before his lips break into the shyest smile possible. Just like Pappa's.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-AzQ1QeEkBJYthVbv1URQex46-SlZUU0pJyC_cm6eHPz11GAX-kMqlDMLpewUaZXO8LEA9n26KBsBotfNjULZS9HS1enYPcoqJcNbahDU-Mgka8eCFfVH8K-c5gPbE-f2GBgdmA/s1600/june+n+mom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-AzQ1QeEkBJYthVbv1URQex46-SlZUU0pJyC_cm6eHPz11GAX-kMqlDMLpewUaZXO8LEA9n26KBsBotfNjULZS9HS1enYPcoqJcNbahDU-Mgka8eCFfVH8K-c5gPbE-f2GBgdmA/s200/june+n+mom.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">In the lyrics of a song that I listen to everyday on the train to Lower Parel... "Kal kya pata, kin ke liye aakhein taras jaaengi..."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Every IPL season, because I have wonderful memories of enjoying the first season with him. During the second season, Pappa had complained "iss baar aap hamaare saat matches nahin dekhti hain..."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Every time I fall ill and go for a medical test... Because on hearing about my bad health, Pappa's reply was always the same. "aap ghar aajaeye, hum aapke saare test karwa denge." Said with deep concern in his voice "</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">When some big political developments take place in the country, because on my trips home, Pappa and I would talk about politics a lot.. We would watch news after news and some random Chinese kung fu films dubbed in Hindi between ad breaks.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The opening sting music of BBC news, because he heard it so loud and Mummy hated it..</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">When ever I say I'm tired, I remember one of my last conversations with him, when he told me the house renovation tires him a lot.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The fatigue that eventually took him away from us. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But Inshallah Pappa is at rest now. He's closer to Allah and always in my prayer. We'll meet someday again, till then he lives in my memory always in a white kurta pajama...smiling radiantly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZJkxe8v5g3whyphenhyphenQjbGP5tXB39aB_8EXe0qJvrODhZ2-iwoVPnNXVRp9S25Ef9Dk9i6k13pd5j0gXs7f3El35O6sM3mRAS8_uIMl_FXOsXMaQFWc11Xv1f-oTTl3DNXTog2s8Vfbw/s1600/pappa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZJkxe8v5g3whyphenhyphenQjbGP5tXB39aB_8EXe0qJvrODhZ2-iwoVPnNXVRp9S25Ef9Dk9i6k13pd5j0gXs7f3El35O6sM3mRAS8_uIMl_FXOsXMaQFWc11Xv1f-oTTl3DNXTog2s8Vfbw/s400/pappa.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">You're always there, you're everywhere</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">But right now I wish you were here</span>
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Nusrat Fatima Jafrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05478091856212987071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22253758.post-7380927743174784322012-08-14T23:53:00.002-07:002012-08-14T23:53:31.632-07:00Up and Awake<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnRhOQ-sHkYyBEVfGXBbQITVzdGT2eCoV9djUEbnJV6vhizWdC5WKe0_DTv3W5fdfHNhakG6Tj9n_To6LDwX6j_LG8k0csBkuw8_2beR3UhKALpuK6XChwy2QTcZfxRGYitR6gqg/s1600/IMG_2453.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnRhOQ-sHkYyBEVfGXBbQITVzdGT2eCoV9djUEbnJV6vhizWdC5WKe0_DTv3W5fdfHNhakG6Tj9n_To6LDwX6j_LG8k0csBkuw8_2beR3UhKALpuK6XChwy2QTcZfxRGYitR6gqg/s320/IMG_2453.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Junna and Sumit</td></tr>
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Not Quite! I love these men!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjziyGF_5hbaJJgLFT1AI592schX0GFU9DH7talEyMnZbt60jn_iDtVb3ZyOYJupCyIvgJ-DV8IqJHn49eyzOnwrD9HzR3fmDRCrMFEn_ZoA2mjQdIjxEGHgbSUxK78jCy-Juj4MQ/s1600/IMG_1096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjziyGF_5hbaJJgLFT1AI592schX0GFU9DH7talEyMnZbt60jn_iDtVb3ZyOYJupCyIvgJ-DV8IqJHn49eyzOnwrD9HzR3fmDRCrMFEn_ZoA2mjQdIjxEGHgbSUxK78jCy-Juj4MQ/s320/IMG_1096.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Junna And Chiggu Bhai</td></tr>
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Nusrat Fatima Jafrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05478091856212987071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22253758.post-3470215798061946712012-07-14T10:22:00.002-07:002012-07-14T11:49:04.594-07:00Embryonic Sweet<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia4gID3E2SWCtwJlb6l_bqWn-b2knXb8ChNZUg4jeZ9S9hvcqU7DZLQkeg-usnx4ZVXeXeyIAiCCqpPyXl2bqO4LtGMWBYfqQdlNG0YBB5KsYFkJnwkOTkZ4eXthHPxGKwEJ9-dA/s1600/photo-26.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia4gID3E2SWCtwJlb6l_bqWn-b2knXb8ChNZUg4jeZ9S9hvcqU7DZLQkeg-usnx4ZVXeXeyIAiCCqpPyXl2bqO4LtGMWBYfqQdlNG0YBB5KsYFkJnwkOTkZ4eXthHPxGKwEJ9-dA/s400/photo-26.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">After a hearty meal, its time to sleep.</span></td></tr>
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I have a towel covering my head and face because I had oiled my hair. And at some point, Sumit clicked this photograph of June and me! And now its a favorite!<br />
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June, since he was a kid, has a sleep habit of digging his legs into the person next to him. To keep them warm. No one taught him this, its just his way to cozy up before slipping into sleep land.<br />
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My mind flips back to winter afternoons in Lucknow, when I see this picture.<br />
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I remember returning from school and cozying up to bhai like a little teddy bear, for a quick afternoon nap. I remember Mummy getting angry at me, for encouraging him to sleep in the afternoon, because that would mean he'd disturb her at night. Not sleeping at night, is something he still does...:)<br />
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Even now, after all these years, if i say "Bhaiyya mujhe ninni karao", he pats my face with his hand, like elders do to babies.<br />
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His patting is strong and painful, but the emotion is in the right place.<br />
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<br /></div>Nusrat Fatima Jafrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05478091856212987071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22253758.post-73794422968566958112012-05-09T06:06:00.002-07:002012-05-10T12:14:31.130-07:00Will I be a petulant mom?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisLrmfKrmy0q5J9FcGf0jHJnsOV995s7u7k5oTJWLcomjUIQelDiKadvDAuhxKiGF1-RH8WJHeVbDc4GJH7Afjy_K5jjBfEvVmEsRKWDZ7YiDyiY4sKOOP0Xu7xr9nRqPvftu1pg/s1600/meera+mumma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisLrmfKrmy0q5J9FcGf0jHJnsOV995s7u7k5oTJWLcomjUIQelDiKadvDAuhxKiGF1-RH8WJHeVbDc4GJH7Afjy_K5jjBfEvVmEsRKWDZ7YiDyiY4sKOOP0Xu7xr9nRqPvftu1pg/s320/meera+mumma.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">June with his Mom-Mom</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I lose my patience so often with June. I shout at him, I ignore his requests for play. I scold him and avoid him. Why do I get angry?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Agreed there's a lot on my plate with Mummy unwell. But will I be so easily irritable with my child when he's two. Or will I make allowances and bend backwards all the time?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I wish I had more strength and definitely more patience. Being a mother must be tough. Every time my period is delayed ( which is every month, because I STRESS A LOT as my Gynaec puts it) I get into a strange zone mentally.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Is this the right time, can i handle a kid? Can i bring up a child selflessly, will i wake up from my sleep to take her/him to the loo, will I cancel a trip to take care of my child? Embarrassingly, the answer to most questions is a blatant, brazen no.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, what is this space that people need to fill with the presence of a child in their life?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">May be with Bhai in my life that space is already full. I get my chance to molly-coddle someone, i get to bully and police someone, I get away with just about everything because he's my baby and I'm his sister-mom.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sister-mom is a safer zone, but Mom -Mom isn't. At my convenience I keep berating Mummy for June's naughtiness. I keep telling her if she was stricter with him, he would 've been far less difficult. I object to her being lenient. Sometimes, I attribute June's naughtiness to his permissive upbringing, roping in Pappa to share the blame. And i would just throw these random obsevations of mine at her, and sometimes even offer hypotheticcal solutions to how I would've broght him up.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Embarrasing as it is, but that's just me blowing off steam. When I have a child of my own, will I be half as lenient as mummy or will I be the sister - mom type that i am with June. If the latter were to be true, I won't be a much liked mommy either!! Since I'm sure Juney must be thinking the same about me and mentally accusing mummy of bringing up this tyrant in the name of a daughter!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The fight between us continues and I hope someday I'll inderstand the dynamics of bringing up a child. And a naughty one for that.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYf7C4QrLW6SQdXknP1huOE0Fs5W-4tKwH6HoFZQ3WHOkpAX461dzmT0tr3TOzHDIK3_Odr2G00trzALOW-7pbXjI2pdVfpgl48TNhaesntlcWLSj6NKfnToldXYHpJa1Ec6n5pA/s1600/20110116_0039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYf7C4QrLW6SQdXknP1huOE0Fs5W-4tKwH6HoFZQ3WHOkpAX461dzmT0tr3TOzHDIK3_Odr2G00trzALOW-7pbXjI2pdVfpgl48TNhaesntlcWLSj6NKfnToldXYHpJa1Ec6n5pA/s320/20110116_0039.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">TRUCE!</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Till then, I'll just keep the war on with Junna Baby!</span><br />
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*----------------------------------------------------------------------------------*</div>Nusrat Fatima Jafrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05478091856212987071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22253758.post-14403135798423000252012-04-03T03:25:00.000-07:002012-05-10T12:14:52.943-07:00Rizwan and the Monkey<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Written By Meera Jafri</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We've had new neighbours move into the flat adjacent to ours. A young friendly girl with a pet dog are the new occupants of that apartment. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One evening, our friendly neighbour came up to Sona and me and introduced herself and her dog Kabi, whom she claimed was a therapy dog. The concept of a therapy dog was new to us and we were curious to learn more. Apparently, Dogs are great stress busters and Kabi was used to playing with cancer patients at a centre. So she volunteered to send her pet over if she could help Rizwan as well!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">We had several dogs as pets when the kids were younger. </span>Rizwan<span class="Apple-style-span"> had a special tacit relationship with each pet. He was shy of touching them but one could see there was a special bond between them. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I remembered an incident from June's childhood. He was 7 0r 8 years old when this extremely shocking incident took place. My husband and I were not home and my mother was baby sitting </span>Rizwan<span class="Apple-style-span">. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS-NkTntJXeiPLWQDF_bcnUdClNjFfquLT25rbFYhQwckdw64J0aF2NFb1j8KFWSoPM32FY71JdY93Y0t2EytO68nAx13wvTwszlKVSDqUfwv2ZMZGmJP9a49RfE7GREu_VF5tcg/s1600/_MG_5027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS-NkTntJXeiPLWQDF_bcnUdClNjFfquLT25rbFYhQwckdw64J0aF2NFb1j8KFWSoPM32FY71JdY93Y0t2EytO68nAx13wvTwszlKVSDqUfwv2ZMZGmJP9a49RfE7GREu_VF5tcg/s320/_MG_5027.JPG" width="213" /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Our kitchen was in one corner of the courtyard, with an iron grill door which had a locking system from both sides to prevent </span>Rizwan from getting in. As established in an earlier post by Sona, Rizwan loves food and cannot control his diet.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mummy was inside the kitchen, the door was latched and Rizwan was watching her from outside waiting for his Nanna to fix him some food. However, to my mother's horror, just then a monkey also came and stood next to Rizwan. My mother was dumbfounded, she didn't know what to do. The monkey was standing right next to Rizwan, so she thought it would be imprudent to scream for help, lest the animal would get agitated!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">However, Rizwan was unnerved, he did what he does with everyone for a physical contact - he stretched out his arm and pulled the monkey's hair! The monkey turned and stared at Rizwan, and just when my mother thought he would attack Rizwan, the monkey retreated towards the terrace instead.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But it didn't end there, almost as an after thought, the monkey suddenly turned back and came up to Rizwan again, this time it was the monkey that extended its hand and kept it on Rizwan's head, then walked away again!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My mother who was terrified till now, had tears in her eyes watching this spectacle. She quickly opened the door and hugged Rizwan, half relieved and half in disbelief at the bond she witnessed between our special child and an unpredictable animal.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> *---------------------------------------*</span></div>
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</div>Nusrat Fatima Jafrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05478091856212987071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22253758.post-35568329025556309602012-03-31T04:24:00.000-07:002012-03-31T04:25:30.391-07:00Play Time is Play Time!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We went to play Ball. June Chiggu Bhai and Me!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP4dHAZl8JA8CDkjfeckDU40_VWajCawMVWGOnASzKFkvnVJUVNtw1QzjGqQUSWosYzgrE7kZ_F32E0uWhQHlMrB2-v-Qgs0ogwMWg_hbe6AxzJG8ZZ4vJi2hScJpV5x7U6h3K6w/s1600/photo-22.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP4dHAZl8JA8CDkjfeckDU40_VWajCawMVWGOnASzKFkvnVJUVNtw1QzjGqQUSWosYzgrE7kZ_F32E0uWhQHlMrB2-v-Qgs0ogwMWg_hbe6AxzJG8ZZ4vJi2hScJpV5x7U6h3K6w/s1600/photo-22.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taking a photo break!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMsKaTD6mkj2TvMHOikKXUIIX5Gw9Xg1vXSDATKWAcHdQcrNni70KAAwHNhAo-JATmgBMXOU2F7pZvn_107ZHZbHmPBNlM0e3bbMSReaoqc-72W7qgxhuGr5e0QyZXqSx3SNOm9Q/s1600/photo-18.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMsKaTD6mkj2TvMHOikKXUIIX5Gw9Xg1vXSDATKWAcHdQcrNni70KAAwHNhAo-JATmgBMXOU2F7pZvn_107ZHZbHmPBNlM0e3bbMSReaoqc-72W7qgxhuGr5e0QyZXqSx3SNOm9Q/s1600/photo-18.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With Chiggu Bhai!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivoCFV36efBv5JgYpyYj8VnQ8qGgzChCCiqFacC7FndeasEuD0u7AbDe_rp1Ik1rD1qv0D3eUubzRdct5G09Y8OGz0slddJ1qt_rCQM8DPGu8FKhEm390g7ZKH1kG54pSIH7ugmQ/s1600/photo-17.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivoCFV36efBv5JgYpyYj8VnQ8qGgzChCCiqFacC7FndeasEuD0u7AbDe_rp1Ik1rD1qv0D3eUubzRdct5G09Y8OGz0slddJ1qt_rCQM8DPGu8FKhEm390g7ZKH1kG54pSIH7ugmQ/s320/photo-17.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fun!!</td></tr>
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<br /></div>Nusrat Fatima Jafrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05478091856212987071noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22253758.post-12499892395251912112012-03-09T09:12:00.002-08:002012-05-10T12:13:29.318-07:00Playing Mummy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mummy went to Mysore to attend Mysha's first birthday. And i got to play Choti Mummy to June.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Initially, both Mummy and I were apprehensive about June Bhai staying away from her for 5 days, but we managed well! This was the first time, I was babysitting him all by myself. Also, i couldn't have done it without Sumit, my husband's support.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">First day went smooth, because June thought it was just one of his night outs at my house, and then the second day onwards, he was bored, sad, introspective and naughty to say the least.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Over the years, June, has become very sensitive, he understands a lot more than he used to a few years back. So, i gather he made sense that mummy was not in town. Partly, also because i kept telling him 'mummy ghummy karne gayi hain' (she's travelling, my nonsense talk that probably, only June understands!)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, we were pleasantly surprised when June declined my elder brother's offer of returning with him to his home, and instead made his loyalties clear by clinging on to Sumit's arm. I felt happy that he 'chose' us over Chiggu Bhai, (I'm forever competing with my siblings for June's attention!) </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjeMfKmra4xU1CZrgUapjFtVFVjUxtDFqyb6IwK5n_0XxUbNCS9MorfF-eawXOn0fcd5S7jiDwBoSenlRZt_xQZfYhoL-6_QT7Rey_CiJVuKd3kWGvLMssqm-NUGyK_UijhGaEuA/s1600/IMG_2455.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjeMfKmra4xU1CZrgUapjFtVFVjUxtDFqyb6IwK5n_0XxUbNCS9MorfF-eawXOn0fcd5S7jiDwBoSenlRZt_xQZfYhoL-6_QT7Rey_CiJVuKd3kWGvLMssqm-NUGyK_UijhGaEuA/s320/IMG_2455.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Clinging on to Sumit, as Chiggu Bhai talks to him.</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">However, the next few days were not exactly smooth! June began to miss mummy. I could see it in his eyes. He felt lost and confused. I felt a little helpless because, I could only take care of his needs but not be Mummy for him! I learnt so much about parenting in these days. I have never contested that it is difficult for Mummy to take care of Bhai, but in the 5 days of playing Mother to June, i have renewed respect for mummy. I had increased love for my precious brother! </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The toughest task was to keep him out of the kitchen. June's cerebellum is damaged and with that, the satiatory centre of his brain. His hunger is never satiated and over eating results in increased blood sugar and other complications. So his diet needs to be monitored. He is a naughty boy, and i dare say, he loves to steal himself into the kitchen when no one's looking! </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My apartment is probably June's dream house, it doesn't have a kitchen door. So its easy access, which means every time he gets up, he goes directly to the kitchen. The first few days Sumit and I would follow him to the kitchen, much to his annoyance (he hates being monitored!). Later on I tried to intimidate him by scolding him, but in vain! The last resort for me was to place dining table chairs in the thoroughfare, so he could not enter the kitchen, and to my surprise, he looked rather amused with the arrangement! But it worked.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM59igl3RZw61mUMVGV0XSgkBFOaZAkkUVu4q4FY4S5HbVDjzlpxwZRAMRNOS5DspOWLG27mpbJUNcjWwCC9yaJ_7FFF4jVrI5u0m4rthPj_qUsXj3jsRjJCiiMvg9QiE28QdNjA/s1600/IMG_2466.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM59igl3RZw61mUMVGV0XSgkBFOaZAkkUVu4q4FY4S5HbVDjzlpxwZRAMRNOS5DspOWLG27mpbJUNcjWwCC9yaJ_7FFF4jVrI5u0m4rthPj_qUsXj3jsRjJCiiMvg9QiE28QdNjA/s320/IMG_2466.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">June with his monkey hammer. Sleepy and pensive.</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We bought new toys for him to keep him busy. I watched Band Baaja Baraat with him, he seemed to enjoy the songs! By the 5th day, both of us were longing for our mother! For all my playing big girl and choti mummy to June, i realised that he doesn't look at me as a mummy replacement! And that Juney and I together are just two small adults trying to play BIG ones. By the fifth day, we were ourselves. I stopped playing big girl and Junna stopped being calm. He would hug me confused and i would hug him tired.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I realised how small a baby Bhai really is. He bullies me alright, because he knows i am much younger to him. But when it comes to trust he lays immense of that in me. So I played slide shows of family pictures for him on my laptop, and he immediately reacted to mummy's photos. I kept telling him mummy will be returning tonight and i think he understood that. Later at night when Chiggu bhai came to take him home he went readily! He knew his mom was home now! </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> *--------------------------------------*</span></div>
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</div>Nusrat Fatima Jafrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05478091856212987071noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22253758.post-5088137483124629402012-02-09T05:23:00.000-08:002012-02-09T05:24:13.739-08:00Mother's June,<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(An Article written by our mother, Meera)</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">3yr old</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was a happy day
when I had my second baby boy. Everything was so beautiful and new.
But, on the third day my baby fell ill with a stomach infection and started
having motions. By the fifth day he was totally dehydrated. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then began the rush
with high dose medicines. A cut was opened in his vein and drips were
administered. We were all praying. Seeing my three day old braced with
medical paraphernalia made me anxious and nervous.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">God heard our fervent
prayers, Rizwan recuperated. All seemed to go well till he was 7-8
months, but then we realized that he still could not balance his head.
From there commenced a saga of many trips to doctors and hospitals. My
June (Rizwan) was diagnosed with cerebral palsy. This came as a shock.
Honestly, we had never heard of it before. After recovering from the
initial shock began the reality of everyday life. June was special, so
every thing in our life became different.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTlRcr8lTSppj6EvomV-7t_Ldovy-qePtySDiKXpwtVsG9sE-fKcLWEPuid0Tqxnqh83Sgl0o9lElVzQ6tBdvHJhJcfzH2ypi1ybtrHOqG1m3pgZ3ZmOvtJcDM-QW7NKK7EHDw1Q/s1600/_MG_5152.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTlRcr8lTSppj6EvomV-7t_Ldovy-qePtySDiKXpwtVsG9sE-fKcLWEPuid0Tqxnqh83Sgl0o9lElVzQ6tBdvHJhJcfzH2ypi1ybtrHOqG1m3pgZ3ZmOvtJcDM-QW7NKK7EHDw1Q/s200/_MG_5152.JPG" width="155" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">l</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">-r, Shaheen,Itrat, Nusrat, Arshad, Abid</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I had five more
children after June. Each of my newborns had June as a playmate while they were
growing up. There were always two feeding bottles, one for the toddler and the
other for June. As June’s brain was not developing much, it was always
the younger sibling who had to sacrifice his rights for the benefit of
June. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I still remember an incident, when I was visiting a friend with June
and his younger brother, then a two-year-old-child. I had June in my arms
and the younger son by my side. The younger son asked me to pick him up
but I said “beta please walk the distance I can’t pick the both of you
together” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This was the day when I vowed never to go out with the children unless
I had an escort.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1KO74v20snqkol0KR7Fs5d7JWHHBah23k_dZ_6hNzaMByAo7WE-jYKDhsT0sj4AFwmvazucQbHUNTESh-ohpSTeAyJWD1SILNfwOGvlWlFck0z_0daqNsDtcJg0Ix_KNPMfbpSg/s1600/_MG_5090.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1KO74v20snqkol0KR7Fs5d7JWHHBah23k_dZ_6hNzaMByAo7WE-jYKDhsT0sj4AFwmvazucQbHUNTESh-ohpSTeAyJWD1SILNfwOGvlWlFck0z_0daqNsDtcJg0Ix_KNPMfbpSg/s200/_MG_5090.JPG" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">June with his Pappa and Nanna</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My husband and my mother were always a pillar in bringing up
June. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">With six children going to school and June still a baby, life was not
easy. School going children had their own needs and June also needed full
attention, he was always very hyperactive. There was constant chaos in
the house. “Mummy, June has chewed my eraser”, or “June Bhai broke my
pencil” or “tore my book”, but it was always the sensible child who was
reprimanded for not keeping his or her things properly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">All children were made to understand that June was a special brother
and that they had to insure that he didn’t get into trouble. Despite this
pressure, my children excelled in their studies and extracurricular activities
in school. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We had our special moments with June. He was unable to walk till
the age of 6-7 years. So the slightest change in his behavior was a
moment of joy for the whole family. His first staggering steps, his
response to his name, the way he handled his toys with intelligence or just
playing with his ball or balloon filled us with happiness and joy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When June suffered the whole house was sad, and when he was happy and
playful everyone’s spirits soared. Our lives started revolving around
June. As time passed by June learnt new tactics to express himself and it
made life a bit easy for us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He responds to questions like “where is your bottle (he loves tea), and
“sit down”. He loves to travel in his car (he can’t sit on the
scooter). His outings mean that he will be bought a packet of Chips and
he waits for it patiently. Dare you forget to buy it and drive past the shop; a
tantrum is bound to happen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So this in short is life with Rizwan, a little child (as we call
him). Life was and is still an uphill journey but all of us are very
proud of having Rizwan in the family and we are proud of him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What hurts then is when you realize that other people don’t look at him
as special in the same way as we do. Recently, when my daughter and me were
trying to fly with him to Mumbai – the ground staff at Indigo Airlines didn’t
allow him to board the flight. According to them he was a threat to the other
passengers, as he could attack them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But June had already flown with the same airline twice before and all
had passed off peacefully. We even had a medical certificate that deemed him
‘fit-to-fly’. But what was worse though was that the ground staff was
completely awful in their behavior – making jokes about how this crazy boy can
make the plane crash etc. It seemed that because both June and I were on
wheelchairs and were not accompanied by an able man – we could be bullied and
taunted. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is a recent incident, and it has left a bitter taste in my mouth.
We’ve met some wonderful people over the years, but it takes just a few
insensitive people to shake up your faith.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJfk_NaBwoDtUQmAqsN1if__hSdJdBXGxhhqPol08qVfv0r4HgYTKxWDecRSBfVlYJjh7ftKvYy5lyeFH7fjyD0Nwr5zYlqr6Xjq78Q_ivVs-gEfiDRyL5f5v9kG4NesY_6x_Ueg/s1600/_MG_9786.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJfk_NaBwoDtUQmAqsN1if__hSdJdBXGxhhqPol08qVfv0r4HgYTKxWDecRSBfVlYJjh7ftKvYy5lyeFH7fjyD0Nwr5zYlqr6Xjq78Q_ivVs-gEfiDRyL5f5v9kG4NesY_6x_Ueg/s320/_MG_9786.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Our Strength, June's Father</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Rizwan
was very fond of his maternal grandmother and his father. Unfortunately,
he lost both of them within a span of 7 months in 2009. God rest their
souls in peace. It is in moments like these, that my mind longs for their
support, even though I know I find my inner strength from their Blessings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Rizwan
is special and all I want is to protect my son and to not allow anyone to
snatch his fundamental rights to travel and his fundamental right to
expression.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My
son is lucky, he has the support of a loving family who are ready to fight for
him (we have served a legal notice to Indigo Airlines & have also filed a
public grievance) but there are many who lack the means to fight back. Who will
help those people from humiliation at the hands of people like the ones at
Indigo Airlines? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs8o_sJ-cYu1gvHSpWbWNm8ZGP9WHXndEA2BAS-9qozPCmiW6dTupbKdJMgm837McYIdffq-xb4e36yvzd9wrfY_yHLmRuWDpsNOGzljeixWQdLM5uuN9a66293FTdwBX2rzl-NQ/s1600/IMG_3157.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs8o_sJ-cYu1gvHSpWbWNm8ZGP9WHXndEA2BAS-9qozPCmiW6dTupbKdJMgm837McYIdffq-xb4e36yvzd9wrfY_yHLmRuWDpsNOGzljeixWQdLM5uuN9a66293FTdwBX2rzl-NQ/s400/IMG_3157.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Memories and photographs</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Rizwan in the Islamic theology is the angel at the gateway of heaven
and truly he is our gateway to heaven. I thank God for choosing me to be
his mother. Thank you God. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">(Article written by Meera Jafri, originally in 2009 for Tehelka's last page; post the Indigo incident. I'm not sure if it got published)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
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</div>
</div>Nusrat Fatima Jafrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05478091856212987071noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22253758.post-42141968799327518352012-02-06T00:45:00.000-08:002012-02-06T00:45:30.386-08:00Waking up<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I keep telling myself I''ll write regularly, but in vain. I do actually have a lot to share with the world about Rizwan. But laziness and other things keep me away.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
However, this post is just a collection of photographs of Rizwan, with me or mummy; groggy, half awake or just nonchalantly having his bottle of milk or green tea!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This post is a slice of our life with bhaiyya! All photos are taken on my bad quality phone camera, so please excuse the quality!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM1WbA_IxaClGXx5nBYgUJjTrVdZwv_YLSitdjqJRDBO4YZbEStE79ZvNlP3Xsb8nFXrZgrA0la06vbfEiSdi2nkYrxQyvFLrx-oPsKPlh_sakvsmNh6kiefCDZ78iLKY41lZ6yg/s1600/IMG00128-20100628-1222.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM1WbA_IxaClGXx5nBYgUJjTrVdZwv_YLSitdjqJRDBO4YZbEStE79ZvNlP3Xsb8nFXrZgrA0la06vbfEiSdi2nkYrxQyvFLrx-oPsKPlh_sakvsmNh6kiefCDZ78iLKY41lZ6yg/s200/IMG00128-20100628-1222.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clinging to Mummy and still not quite up!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEits0hKtQ2MfxcpQ4w_N6l6SYOERGhUJQDeT-2TITMT5dS-lXUtnm4vm9owMdsIII9ZwNYHtOeYIzGBcd38Q2WZ0bNapS25Ow6JvxpAW4D9IKJZHWHCUPlLoN34IUwdA1T1aXPCkg/s1600/IMG00349-20101214-1231.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEits0hKtQ2MfxcpQ4w_N6l6SYOERGhUJQDeT-2TITMT5dS-lXUtnm4vm9owMdsIII9ZwNYHtOeYIzGBcd38Q2WZ0bNapS25Ow6JvxpAW4D9IKJZHWHCUPlLoN34IUwdA1T1aXPCkg/s200/IMG00349-20101214-1231.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poser, since he's not a big fan of stuff toys,. He an out and out cars and bikes kind of a boy!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinvPwqVSs7oDKCKLbMyK-ygDQA22oOWzJC7A3k7px2-7wVCFy_9HnoCojEIjXrLl5nTYl2TLxWjPqXKKYpKCrcQJYRhRS2KXrY1CDTIqTGcrN5PjuSuQ6jUBphp9lNnpCYUF30rA/s1600/IMG00786-20110923-1455.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinvPwqVSs7oDKCKLbMyK-ygDQA22oOWzJC7A3k7px2-7wVCFy_9HnoCojEIjXrLl5nTYl2TLxWjPqXKKYpKCrcQJYRhRS2KXrY1CDTIqTGcrN5PjuSuQ6jUBphp9lNnpCYUF30rA/s320/IMG00786-20110923-1455.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My baby! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4gZeqINVHxWHI0tH81EbOUglpG4foHeEJ3KtbpSOpkhY7FPWvqdSTnl2fEDEuaINvE7pZL_jijDA1lVy3dOoikoKdPUJE1DtgPEaWvtsp8921RUbqlP7pJxRvQ1jkCWIwM3xsNA/s1600/IMG00987-20120105-0832.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4gZeqINVHxWHI0tH81EbOUglpG4foHeEJ3KtbpSOpkhY7FPWvqdSTnl2fEDEuaINvE7pZL_jijDA1lVy3dOoikoKdPUJE1DtgPEaWvtsp8921RUbqlP7pJxRvQ1jkCWIwM3xsNA/s200/IMG00987-20120105-0832.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At my place, he hates staying away from mummy, but I bribed him into spending the night at my house.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnbvO3n7ioiObwYtcaHeWArgRkcz2K1UjrBN4Eoe0Nji-fRXzLb5nK6WfgRT2BBfWwbpHYPS6OIy2NMwug038GRsWNvnsTIlnd_SL60jT0DaxmDxzfdFrMcxsdqvC4k39sD4bA5Q/s1600/IMG00900-20111114-1154.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnbvO3n7ioiObwYtcaHeWArgRkcz2K1UjrBN4Eoe0Nji-fRXzLb5nK6WfgRT2BBfWwbpHYPS6OIy2NMwug038GRsWNvnsTIlnd_SL60jT0DaxmDxzfdFrMcxsdqvC4k39sD4bA5Q/s200/IMG00900-20111114-1154.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picture clicked to be BBM'ed to mummy early in the morning!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>Nusrat Fatima Jafrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05478091856212987071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22253758.post-73242187098767597612012-01-23T20:40:00.000-08:002012-01-23T20:40:56.946-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Riz in the Morning</span><div>
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<div>
He's a light sleeper. </div>
<div>
Early riser. </div>
<div>
Tea lover. </div>
<div>
Sun - Chaser. </div>
<div>
Has a great sense of time, and just as most other children like him, he knows his schedule better than us. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So, he wakes up, lounges about for a bit in bed, then urges Mummy to prepare tea for him. Which means a bit of sweet smiles, kisses and hugs.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then he gets out of bed, to lounge a bit more on the sofa in the living room. Collects his bottle of tea (drinks tea from a baby bottle, because he has weak finger dexterity,) and enjoys it.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And then whether, he's in his Lucknow home or his Mumbai apartment, He finds the Sun!</div>
<div>
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<div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7nGxa7dUpavF1IXVweFEvQCEnq_56-48oDNp9AXow7JYpqjBrga_9Rxa02sbDLZNYpWiILyHx3LMjGDqKdMbjS2L0zT7yBSCYf5euHc3k65dBOBCMFfyb3eiugFY-52E-gjY0XQ/s1600/IMG_3349.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7nGxa7dUpavF1IXVweFEvQCEnq_56-48oDNp9AXow7JYpqjBrga_9Rxa02sbDLZNYpWiILyHx3LMjGDqKdMbjS2L0zT7yBSCYf5euHc3k65dBOBCMFfyb3eiugFY-52E-gjY0XQ/s200/IMG_3349.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Groggy, sleepy boy!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm5ppCADFK-7RB_8yRXmJWdFRvxJVnkJq8Y1MJ19QiiIRk6uqBB-e1hR8WZffD9tfZinqJWI1uXR7eK04RWi5YsGvqVEiKb5qyxKH74LMdkCcqChqCAjJOQqxH9bHa03LBf7VrOw/s1600/_MG_0031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm5ppCADFK-7RB_8yRXmJWdFRvxJVnkJq8Y1MJ19QiiIRk6uqBB-e1hR8WZffD9tfZinqJWI1uXR7eK04RWi5YsGvqVEiKb5qyxKH74LMdkCcqChqCAjJOQqxH9bHa03LBf7VrOw/s320/_MG_0031.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Sunflower!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicxNViWwpqBnRG2W5ls_8m1tlkexUfN7fp8klUpjjxxnHso4SZ-JvK5ClRmip8h2v6xr-oBbvUecQUYsS79noYhrijyPJoYQMW_6IMwmlSNDh1t-Ay3mecH-GnDVleMRskbTRarA/s1600/_MG_9314.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicxNViWwpqBnRG2W5ls_8m1tlkexUfN7fp8klUpjjxxnHso4SZ-JvK5ClRmip8h2v6xr-oBbvUecQUYsS79noYhrijyPJoYQMW_6IMwmlSNDh1t-Ay3mecH-GnDVleMRskbTRarA/s200/_MG_9314.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tea lover!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHGZBWT8C-y9sjdOobo3QWaXJsl540lIcpOixQl67Hp7XxzLgeuoASLDb-R_bb2A1Sr16XF2ythQP9bylVe0hDcYj-yQwE-N_cciEAGrxpqaJI36C7n2pamp7KQjeLROF6clWjYQ/s1600/IMG_1158.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHGZBWT8C-y9sjdOobo3QWaXJsl540lIcpOixQl67Hp7XxzLgeuoASLDb-R_bb2A1Sr16XF2ythQP9bylVe0hDcYj-yQwE-N_cciEAGrxpqaJI36C7n2pamp7KQjeLROF6clWjYQ/s400/IMG_1158.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">True Poser!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div>
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</div>Nusrat Fatima Jafrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05478091856212987071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22253758.post-20607787077732239412012-01-14T07:24:00.001-08:002012-01-14T07:24:53.077-08:00I shall sit here, serving tea to your friends;<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/75813140@N00/6691004905/" title="I shall sit here, serving tea to your friends;"><img alt="I shall sit here, serving tea to your friends; by recent realisations" height="208" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7023/6691004905_06d30fd53e.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/75813140@N00/6691004905/">I shall sit here, serving tea to your friends;</a>, a photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/75813140@N00/">recent realisations</a> on Flickr.</span></div>
"Perhaps you can write to me."<br />My self-possession flares up for a second;<br />This is as I had reckoned.<br /><br /><br />(lines, from Portrait of a Lady)<br />Apologies for the horrible water marks!<br /><br /><br />So I made a Self Portrait after ages! And I'm glad the way this one's come out. It's amazing, how one grows in any Art they do. What may have looked too bare in the past, may look too much just yet!<br /><br />And, of course these are new clothes! They were bought off a sale from a fairly expensive store. The cheap thrills of wearing cheap-expensive clothes! If you know what i mean!</div>Nusrat Fatima Jafrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05478091856212987071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22253758.post-72417393118712581682012-01-03T23:57:00.001-08:002012-01-04T00:11:05.744-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Please have a look at my etsy shop. I have photography listings at very affordable prices. Also introduced so some crochet stuff. I'm new to crochet and my latest additions would be amigurumi stuff!!<br />
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Here and also on the right hand of my blog, the link is given out.<br />
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http://www.etsy.com/people/recentrealisations?ref=si_pr<br />
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Place your orders now!!!!! Some listings are on sale, so hurry!!<br />
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</div>Nusrat Fatima Jafrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05478091856212987071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22253758.post-28402868654330830162011-12-30T20:05:00.001-08:002011-12-30T20:05:09.770-08:00I used to have a house,<div style="margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0; font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/75813140@N00/6160191686/" title="I used to have a house,"><img src="http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6200/6160191686_f44ea47657.jpg" alt="I used to have a house, by recent realisations" /></a><br/><span style="margin: 0;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/75813140@N00/6160191686/">I used to have a house,</a>, a photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/75813140@N00/">recent realisations</a> on Flickr.</span></div><p>a house that was protected, a house that was mine. Now i just have a heart.</p>Nusrat Fatima Jafrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05478091856212987071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22253758.post-87659136235046257432011-11-30T12:41:00.001-08:002011-11-30T13:49:39.561-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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लवली आमलेट!<br />
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The Best Omelette in The WHOLE World!!!<br />
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Pranati, my friend and I were loitering around Mall Road, in Mussoorie. We were hungry and cold. So, we tried looking for some fast food. Momos shacks were in big numbers, but since anyone who's eaten a veg momo would know excatly why we kept looking for more options mostly we looked for hot maggi but in vain!Till we chanced upon this quaint omelette shop.<br />
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The idea of having an omelette in Mussoorie, somehow took me back to my hostel days in DU, where Ponta, Sapna, Anshu and I had spent many evenings eating bread anda and maska bread at Chacha's near Madhuban's on Civil Lines!<br />
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So we walked in, shared a bench with a few students from an engineering college in Dehradun. We chatted with these kids till our Cheese Omelette was served to us.<br />
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Everything about this place even before we took our first bite, was enchanting! The omelette of course, was LOVELY indeed. We thought it was fortuity and that we had just chanced upon this superb, quaint shack in the middle of a hill station. We thought we'd blog about it and let the world know its charm, till Rashid bhai the owner of the place started chatting up with us.<br />
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He showed us newspaper cuttings and a paragraph recommending Lovely omelette to tourists in the Lonely Planet! He also requested us to "like" their fanpage on facebook!! He also said that he hadn't increased the cost of the omelettes in the menu, because he was happy, just being appreciated! Also, that every now and then, he would alot a few hours on a sunday morning for free omelettes to school kids. He spoke and reinforced my faith in humanity, that simple hearted people still existed in the world.<br />
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I came back, stomach full and glad to have stolen a few hours to visit the busiest street in Mussoorie! I felt glad to have discovered the Lovely Omelette shop by myself. I felt happy that the place was already famous! And that many in India shared a common taste with me! And of course, I went ahead and "liked" the official fan page for Lovely Omelette on Facebook!</div>Nusrat Fatima Jafrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05478091856212987071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22253758.post-67461103510002984792011-11-30T12:31:00.001-08:002011-11-30T22:13:03.056-08:00My name is Red!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/75813140@N00/6423546497/" title="My name is Red!"><img alt="My name is Red! by recent realisations" src="http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6232/6423546497_af42abfc3e.jpg" /></a><br />
<span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/75813140@N00/6423546497/">My name is Red!</a>, a photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/75813140@N00/">recent realisations</a> on Flickr.</span></div>
My close friend's wedding. I travelled to Mussoorie to attend it.<br />Love this photo of hers. Anticipation, excitement and nervousness- all wrapped in one expression! <br />Also, she looks so lovely here, she always does!<br />My best wishes to the couple!</div>Nusrat Fatima Jafrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05478091856212987071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22253758.post-19387389903691786222011-09-20T12:31:00.000-07:002011-09-20T12:31:22.241-07:00Who's Riz?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
He's a baby,<br />
He's a boy<br />
He's a man.<br />
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He's so irritating,<br />
He's so naughty,<br />
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He shouts,<br />
He screams<br />
He laughs,<br />
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He is my brother - He's Riz, and he smiles.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisyRwzatdNHsM6YzYjCZKGHRKT96RRPYZynB38JSbYBZEQxVsgROf3Ugrc_Qy7R-DMi-YT98EAYXqGyKfpboi4MngcBPWl5OuRbTtP_wZrsO77fop2MdpY6ytG3jdpOcH0y9Y1iA/s1600/_MG_7651.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisyRwzatdNHsM6YzYjCZKGHRKT96RRPYZynB38JSbYBZEQxVsgROf3Ugrc_Qy7R-DMi-YT98EAYXqGyKfpboi4MngcBPWl5OuRbTtP_wZrsO77fop2MdpY6ytG3jdpOcH0y9Y1iA/s320/_MG_7651.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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He's special.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Very special to me.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div>Nusrat Fatima Jafrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05478091856212987071noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22253758.post-5963229622536698552011-09-16T00:45:00.001-07:002011-09-16T00:45:43.452-07:00Beauty!<div style="margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0; font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/75813140@N00/6148859623/" title="Beauty!"><img src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6179/6148859623_8a6ac14dff.jpg" alt="Beauty! by recent realisations" /></a><br/><span style="margin: 0;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/75813140@N00/6148859623/">Beauty!</a>, a photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/75813140@N00/">recent realisations</a> on Flickr.</span></div><p>My trip to Ooty was just what i needed to get away from the rains and maddening rythym of Nasik Dhols in Mumbai. I got back feeling rejuvinated and in love!<br /><br />In love with nature, blue skies, tall trees, small wild flowers and an all pervading smell of eucalyptus!! <br /><br />I will be posting a few pictures from my trip. <br />This is a rock lizard/gekko i spotted on my way to Lamb's Rock in Coonoor. He's beautiful!!</p>Nusrat Fatima Jafrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05478091856212987071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22253758.post-60421565981380571232011-03-28T11:43:00.000-07:002011-03-28T11:45:48.399-07:00My Commissioned Work<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Qu-Iiwf7ZrByk-1MMXhOKji1ZgjEoPvU_GieiRLCY15nxe-wimJQ3EWq8qesjXe-r_hFYjcqzSZ2SQJ7bquBEeoFHTnbQVBxMtNNB_-RycYvwacs45lBxzVNqQq0OuILVhM4fQ/s1600/forfb.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 202px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Qu-Iiwf7ZrByk-1MMXhOKji1ZgjEoPvU_GieiRLCY15nxe-wimJQ3EWq8qesjXe-r_hFYjcqzSZ2SQJ7bquBEeoFHTnbQVBxMtNNB_-RycYvwacs45lBxzVNqQq0OuILVhM4fQ/s320/forfb.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589203646926702194" /></a>I'm posting after 4 years! Nusrat Fatima Jafrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05478091856212987071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22253758.post-1155561421955579092006-08-14T06:10:00.000-07:002006-08-14T06:17:01.970-07:00Spider Wider<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"><div align="justify"><br /><br />There once lived a man named Tarantula. And a woman named Quentin.<br />Tarantula’s parents had been avid aracnomanics (Spider lovers) and Quentin’s parents were movie buffs.<br /><br />Quentin’s parents were film school graduates. In the early days of their career they has started a company called “White and Black Feather films.” Unfortunately the company couldn’t survive after some south East Asian countries banned film making and American film maker Quentin renunciated the US of A for Buddhisism in Tibet. So as a tribute to much of their success, they pledged to name their only child, a girl Quentin.<br /><br />Tarantula’s mother was a lucid dreamer, she could control her dreams. She loved her spider named “Spider” so much that it even over shadowed her love for her husband. She once dreamt of making out with Spider in a webby situation. Nine months later, when a son was born, she was disappointed and refused to even look at him. Weeks later when two eunuchs, named Shola and Shabnam came on their regular rounds, they found the little one quite fascinating. “hai main mar jaauun, ye to mujhe makde ki yaad dilata hai, ( oh, god I’ll die, this one reminds me of a spider,)” said Shola, Shabnam giggled.<br />Hearing this, ten thousand temple bells rang in the mothers mind and she turned to look at her baby. It was very thin (out of weeks of neglect) and had black spotted legs (because of excess melanin clotting. But the mother fell in love with son, and in excitement undid her entire blouse to feed the son for the first time. While Shabnam letched on, Shola stole the gold chain from the mothers neck and together they ran out.<br />She named him Tarantula. At night when the husband returned hungry with lust for his wife, he died. Tarantula’s saliva on his mother’s breast was poison. Like a Black Widow, she smiled as her husbands body was taken away by weeping relatives. “Spider’s love had finally won her over completely, she thought. She’s been dreaming about Spider more and more, but thankfully no more Tarantula’s are born, though the spider population in her collection has risen much to her neighbors dismay.<br /><br />Quentin was a rather androgynous girl. She was tall for an Indian 5ft 10” her face was squarish and lips thin. She spoke very fast and very soft. She loved the marshal arts and learnt chow. And always wore yellow leather body suits with yellow high boots. She was outlandish in them. She went to MCRC , a non discript film school in a very descript city in Asia.<br />Quentin always presented films for the class in film ap classes. She was once asked to present her favorite hindi film “thorns” to the class as punishment after being caught cheating. But the teacher loved her presentation so much, that she was made to present all films in the future. She would rent DVD’s from the “bhookha” store in Def Col and astound the class the next day.<br /><br />Tarantula would grow into a natural aracnomanic. With 10,000 spiders under the same roof in his studio apartment in Andheri East , Mumbai, he had to learn to love them. Not only that he excelled in preparing exotic spider recipes, clandestinely. His mother would freak if she ever noticed. That was the only way Tarantula could control their population, since his mother continued to be in her dreams of love with big Spider, (who refused to die and fathered more and more spiders.<br />Slowly Tarantula was a star. He started featuring on reality shows on TV and started earning through spiders.<br />So it was natural for Quentin and Tarantula to meet one day. Why, is not known to the writer, but it was natural according to her. Take it at that. On the mega premier of the 25th version of Spiderman Returns, Quentin G became Quentin T. Quentin Tarantula.<br />That was the first time they met, in the movie hall. Tarantula had worn his bermudas and Quentin her high boots. She looked at his spotted hairy legs, then looked again and this time dropped her cellular phone , and looked at them, bent and closely. She was fascinated, she asked him his name and Voila!!! Someone some where, became this one right here, …was made for ,me!! Towards the end of the film she was his. They were both very attracted to each other, so naturally after the film they went to the beach side bar W Lounge, where they kissed. Initially, Tarantula was reluctant, because he thought his saliva would scar her or make her dumb, just as many women has died in the past, by a rumored serial kisser.<br />Just as he realized nothing happened, he gallantly pulled her under a grass shack, Quentin tried to resist, but in a swift movement, Tarantula had smashed broken the Smirnoff bottle top and in another swift movement he struck a match stick under his arm pit,( axe effect) to light it. And heroically, flung it into the vodka bottle.<br />Quentin followed Tarantula seven times around the fired Smirnoff, each time repeating in unison, “with this I thee wed, om om shaadi namaah…”<br /><br />After the wedding they went to his studio apartment and watched “Aracnophobia”<br />That night Tarantula’s mother died in an orgasm in one of her dreams. They found cobwebs on her thighs and under arms as spiders could barely find any room in the apartment. Ironically even Spider died that night.<br /><br />Tarantula turned his studio apartment into a lab for spiders and shifted to a two bed room kitchen set in a posh Mumbai locality.<br />Quentin Tarantula revived “White and Black Feather films.” She produced her first film called “Mira/max Arri/flex.”<br />The poster outside Gulmohar at IHC read.<br />A WHITE AND BLACK FEATHER presentation Quentin Tarantula’s MIRA/MAX AND ARRI/FLEX. A sublime story about lucid dreamers, spider ghosh and MCRC…<br /> </span></div>Nusrat Fatima Jafrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05478091856212987071noreply@blogger.com0