Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Square Mile Coffee Roasters
I had the good fortune of chancing upon London's newest roasters in full swing the other day. Coffeegeek.com's forums are all aglow with praise for the new company that boasts the World Barista Champion 2008, Stephen Morrissey, on their staff.
Anyway, after a relatively painless drive through East London and a bit of almost-legal parking I wandered along a narrow alley until the smell of roasting coffee and enormous brown sacks signposted the way. My perseverance was rewarded by a super-fresh batch of roasted coffee (the WBC limited edition espresso blend). As it was so fresh, the staff advised to let it air for a while otherwise the resulting coffee would be too gaseous.
So I drove back with a half-open bag of freshly roasted coffee beans on the passenger seat, stopping at red lights to inhale the aroma, like a refined glue-sniffer.
Anyway, after a relatively painless drive through East London and a bit of almost-legal parking I wandered along a narrow alley until the smell of roasting coffee and enormous brown sacks signposted the way. My perseverance was rewarded by a super-fresh batch of roasted coffee (the WBC limited edition espresso blend). As it was so fresh, the staff advised to let it air for a while otherwise the resulting coffee would be too gaseous.
So I drove back with a half-open bag of freshly roasted coffee beans on the passenger seat, stopping at red lights to inhale the aroma, like a refined glue-sniffer.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Speech at my sister's wedding
Respected scholars, my elders, brothers and sisters, salaam alaykum
For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Tauseef and I’m the bride’s brother
I’m honoured to have been lumbered with the thankless task of thanking everyone and inevitably forgetting someone. And speaking kindly yet amusingly about my sister and inevitably cutting it a bit too close to the bone.
But before we get to the nitty-gritty, I hope you’ll indulge me by accompanying me on a whistle-stop tour of how we came to be here in the first place.
No, I’m not referring to my father-in-law’s fondness of grilling me on directions to and from venues.
I’m talking about a dark, winter’s night in 2006 when dad’s usual evening slumber with a cup of tea precariously hanging from his fingertips was interrupted by a phonecall. The phonecall.
Dad did what anyone would do in his situation and got mum to answer the call. It was her cousin Rizwan mamu’s wife from Bolton, somewhere near Greenland I think.
Fatimbai Fazal beat around the bush for what seemed like an eternity but eventually divulged the ulterior motive to her call. There was a respectable, law-abiding young man named Mohamed Raza in Leeds…a dactar, no less…who was on the transfer market.
After confirming Mohamed Raza’s registration with the General Medical Council and a clean Criminal Records Bureau check, the unavoidable Indian Tea Ceremony was arranged.
After the water-boarding and electric-shock assisted interrogation Mohamed Raza finally disclosed his name. The remaining answers were easier to extract than some of the horrific dental episodes from her training that Zaheda has regaled us with and the rest is well…history.
The couple have decided to embark upon what George Bernard Shaw described as an alliance entered into by a man who can't sleep with the window shut, and a woman who can't sleep with the window open.
Fast-forwarding to this last fortnight the Mehrali house has turned into Mehrali HQ – a command and control centre to rival the Pentagon. Dad has had a telephone attached to each ear for what seems like every waking hour. Mum has overturned all laws of physics and reached sound levels previously unheard of.
As the time for the wedding drew closer and closer we managed to recruit more and more people into the madness.
The wedding favours on your table are produced by our very own child slave labour production line to rival Primark’s, a hidden benefit behind Zaheda & I having 14 uncles and aunties.
A fitting moment I believe to thank each and every one of you for gracing the event with your presence today. Some from very far afield indeed.
Thank you to all those who have been soldiering away behind the scenes to make sure things run (or at least look like they’re running) to plan, including today’s volunteering staff.
A special thank you though to Manzoor uncle for covering most of Birmingham in his white-van; Abbas Ali & Sadiq Hassan for not really knowing why they’re here but still proving to be incredibly useful; Batul aunty for her ability to diffuse those high-stress moments; Ronnie her taxi service; Fehmida and Noor Hussein for their endless supply of cushions, and our limitless chachas, chachis, fuas, fuis, mamus, mamis, masas and masis. Not forgetting all our cousins!
But enough pre-amble. Now for the nitty-gritty.
What better way to reflect on my experience as Zaheda’s brother than in the form of a day planner for Mohamed Raza.
Mohamed Raza,
Zaheda’s brought happiness and lots of loud laughter into our lives. Her impressions have entertained many a house guest.
In fact dad is quite worried about Zaheda’s departure from the family home. Not for the reasons you might imagine though. Just the other day, whilst gardening, my dad was interrupted by our elderly Gujarati next-door neighbour.
Mum used to drop us off at the primary school gates with the advice “be good”. Zaheda’s certainly heeded that advice.
I know that bai, dadabapa, nanabapa and nanima would have been proud of her today.
I’d like to end by requesting you all to please recite surah fatiha for those souls and the souls of all marhoomeen.
For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Tauseef and I’m the bride’s brother
I’m honoured to have been lumbered with the thankless task of thanking everyone and inevitably forgetting someone. And speaking kindly yet amusingly about my sister and inevitably cutting it a bit too close to the bone.
But before we get to the nitty-gritty, I hope you’ll indulge me by accompanying me on a whistle-stop tour of how we came to be here in the first place.
No, I’m not referring to my father-in-law’s fondness of grilling me on directions to and from venues.
I’m talking about a dark, winter’s night in 2006 when dad’s usual evening slumber with a cup of tea precariously hanging from his fingertips was interrupted by a phonecall. The phonecall.
Dad did what anyone would do in his situation and got mum to answer the call. It was her cousin Rizwan mamu’s wife from Bolton, somewhere near Greenland I think.
Fatimbai Fazal beat around the bush for what seemed like an eternity but eventually divulged the ulterior motive to her call. There was a respectable, law-abiding young man named Mohamed Raza in Leeds…a dactar, no less…who was on the transfer market.
After confirming Mohamed Raza’s registration with the General Medical Council and a clean Criminal Records Bureau check, the unavoidable Indian Tea Ceremony was arranged.
After the water-boarding and electric-shock assisted interrogation Mohamed Raza finally disclosed his name. The remaining answers were easier to extract than some of the horrific dental episodes from her training that Zaheda has regaled us with and the rest is well…history.
The couple have decided to embark upon what George Bernard Shaw described as an alliance entered into by a man who can't sleep with the window shut, and a woman who can't sleep with the window open.
Fast-forwarding to this last fortnight the Mehrali house has turned into Mehrali HQ – a command and control centre to rival the Pentagon. Dad has had a telephone attached to each ear for what seems like every waking hour. Mum has overturned all laws of physics and reached sound levels previously unheard of.
As the time for the wedding drew closer and closer we managed to recruit more and more people into the madness.
The wedding favours on your table are produced by our very own child slave labour production line to rival Primark’s, a hidden benefit behind Zaheda & I having 14 uncles and aunties.
A fitting moment I believe to thank each and every one of you for gracing the event with your presence today. Some from very far afield indeed.
Thank you to all those who have been soldiering away behind the scenes to make sure things run (or at least look like they’re running) to plan, including today’s volunteering staff.
A special thank you though to Manzoor uncle for covering most of Birmingham in his white-van; Abbas Ali & Sadiq Hassan for not really knowing why they’re here but still proving to be incredibly useful; Batul aunty for her ability to diffuse those high-stress moments; Ronnie her taxi service; Fehmida and Noor Hussein for their endless supply of cushions, and our limitless chachas, chachis, fuas, fuis, mamus, mamis, masas and masis. Not forgetting all our cousins!
But enough pre-amble. Now for the nitty-gritty.
What better way to reflect on my experience as Zaheda’s brother than in the form of a day planner for Mohamed Raza.
Mohamed Raza,
Zaheda’s not really a morning person as shown by her mummified appearances at the dining table for daku during the month of fasting. It’s actually easier to summon the dead back to life than it is to summon Zaheda from her sleep.But in all seriousness, these last 24 years have gone so quickly – a testament to the fun we’ve had.
Well, how about late morning? I recently came to know that Zaheda’s nurses at the Dental practice keep a supply of concentrated glucose drinks especially for the late afternoon when Zaheda’s blood sugar levels have been known to drop and her drill begins to slip.
So we come to the afternoon. Siesta time. Zaheda is a Mediterranean in an Indian’s body. Her siestas have been known to last longer than her overnight sleep!
The evening can be a bit tricky too. Mainly because of the dim-lighting levels making it difficult to see things clearly. I fondly recall walking back from Qur’an classes as a kid with Zaheda one evening and managing to persuade her that a hardened, pebble-like dog turd was actually a precious stone worth collecting. Mohamed Raza, you may want to bear this in mind when you go jewellery shopping.
And that brings us to night time. Zaheda needs her 8 hours of sleep otherwise you should see what she’s like in the morning!
Zaheda’s brought happiness and lots of loud laughter into our lives. Her impressions have entertained many a house guest.
In fact dad is quite worried about Zaheda’s departure from the family home. Not for the reasons you might imagine though. Just the other day, whilst gardening, my dad was interrupted by our elderly Gujarati next-door neighbour.
Bhaiyya you look a bit sad. Is it because your daughter is leaving, to get married?Zaheda’s a meticulous, thoughtful and caring individual and I couldn’t have hoped or prayed for a better sister.
My dad looked at her, shook his head knowingly and said, no. I’m worried because now I have to find something to talk about with my wife!
Mum used to drop us off at the primary school gates with the advice “be good”. Zaheda’s certainly heeded that advice.
I know that bai, dadabapa, nanabapa and nanima would have been proud of her today.
I’d like to end by requesting you all to please recite surah fatiha for those souls and the souls of all marhoomeen.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Channel 4 documentary: Misleading & Defamatory
Channel 4 is getting a much deserved coordinated roasting for its woefully inaccurate documentary entitled The Qur'an - specifically its portrayal of Shia beliefs.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Letter to Channel 4
Dear Sir
Anthony Thomas’ much feted documentary entitled The Qur’an was indeed a refreshing, challenging and welcome piece. However, its provocativeness belied a disappointingly naïve understanding of the chronic Sunni-Shia schism in Islam. Both communities in this country in particular have strived hard to reconcile theological differences and debunk mutual misconceptions. Thomas’ nonchalant dismissal of Shia theology, strangely echoing a Talibanesque position, as having no basis in the Qur’an will unfortunately help to dismantle the fragile bridges built between the sects and consolidate the extremist aspiration to brand the Shia heretics, Islam’s own fifth column, a barely tolerated cultish minority. The brutal consequences of such perpetual misinformation can be witnessed in the Parachahar region of Pakistan as I write.
In his book The Failure of Political Islam, Olivier Roy writes “we find Islam divided into three geographic and cultural tendencies: the Sunni Arab Middle East, the Sunni Indian subcontinent, and Irano-Arab Shiism.” While the Pentagon reconsiders its ‘Neo-Con Shia-philia’ as one commentator puts it, ‘Irano-Arab Shiism’ continues to forge an emerging political presence. The strategic importance of the Shia diaspora has never been reflected in what is generally known of them and their beliefs. Unfortunately Thomas has done little to redress the balance.
Anthony Thomas’ much feted documentary entitled The Qur’an was indeed a refreshing, challenging and welcome piece. However, its provocativeness belied a disappointingly naïve understanding of the chronic Sunni-Shia schism in Islam. Both communities in this country in particular have strived hard to reconcile theological differences and debunk mutual misconceptions. Thomas’ nonchalant dismissal of Shia theology, strangely echoing a Talibanesque position, as having no basis in the Qur’an will unfortunately help to dismantle the fragile bridges built between the sects and consolidate the extremist aspiration to brand the Shia heretics, Islam’s own fifth column, a barely tolerated cultish minority. The brutal consequences of such perpetual misinformation can be witnessed in the Parachahar region of Pakistan as I write.
In his book The Failure of Political Islam, Olivier Roy writes “we find Islam divided into three geographic and cultural tendencies: the Sunni Arab Middle East, the Sunni Indian subcontinent, and Irano-Arab Shiism.” While the Pentagon reconsiders its ‘Neo-Con Shia-philia’ as one commentator puts it, ‘Irano-Arab Shiism’ continues to forge an emerging political presence. The strategic importance of the Shia diaspora has never been reflected in what is generally known of them and their beliefs. Unfortunately Thomas has done little to redress the balance.
Tasteful or Tasteless?
The current 'satirical' frontpage of the New Yorker has generated a whirlwind of angry opinion.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Kulfi and Gajrela - Double-hit Combo
Just got back from a friend's delightful ultra-lavish wedding reception the highlight of which was a malai kulfi - gajrela - raspberry sauce combo for dessert. Heaven on a plate.
A Case of Exploding Mangoes
Earlier this week I managed to pop in to the London Literature Festival taking place at the Southbank Centre and hear Mohammed Hanif read from his admittedly hilarious first novel 'A Case of Exploding Mangoes'. His laissez-faire demeanour, outrageous accent, deadpan delivery and the endless contortions of his plasticine face only added to the mirth. He also had to endure a conversation with the terribly 'high-society' Muneeza Mirza in which his rapier wit really left her reeling - a delight for the audience.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
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