Peering into the Plaza de Toros - Bullring

The Plaza de Toros, Seville, Andalucia ©Tauseef Mehrali 2006

Death by Breakfast

During the midst of a wonderfully eclectic chat yesterday the conversation turned to the immensity of our respective Sunday breakfasts. So I thought I'd have a scientific look at the composition of a typical 'Day of Rest' breakfast in my household.

Sweet condensed milk (1oz/28g)	91 calories
Fried egg x1	92 calories
Paratha x2	600 calories
Clotted cream (1oz/28g)	265 calories
Total	1048 calories

By way of comparison, a typical English breakfast (2 rashers of bacon, 1 sausage, 1 fried egg, baked beans, 1 slice of white toast, mushrooms and 1 grilled tomato) consists of 540 calories. A Coffee shop special in the form of a Starbucks white chocolate and strawberry muffin and grande latte with whole milk would endow 843 calories on a consumer.

I'm off to the gym.

The Burger King Mosque!

The Burger King Mosque, Cordoba, Andalucia ©Tauseef Mehrali 2006

PBF

Nicholas Gurewitch, the (admittedly disturbed) mind behind the Perry Bible Fellowship cartoon series is a genius.

Security with Style

Security with Style, Granada, Andalucia ©Tauseef Mehrali 2006

Easter Sunday of Semana Santa - Holy Week

(Don't forget to click on the images for larger versions!)

Alhambra Arches

Alhambra Arches, Granada, Andalucia ©Tauseef Mehrali 2006

Historical Aside

History is said to be the propaganda of the victorious party, modern Turkmenistan being no exception. The Guardian covers the recent 'Freedom to Write' awards - a ceremony to "honour international literary figures who have been persecuted for defending or simply exercising their right to free expression. As such, the vast majority of winners are behind bars or in hiding when their names are announced."

History was made at the Freedom to Write awards last week when, for the first time in the contest's history, the winner turned up. Novelist and dissident Rakhim Esenov made a surprise appearance at the New York ceremony following a week of intense diplomatic negotiations prompted by the award sponsors, writers' organisation PEN America.

Esenov, 78, had been under house arrest in Turkmenistan since 2004, when he was charged with smuggling 800 copies of his banned novel, The Crowned Wanderer, into the country.

According to PEN, Esenov was accused of inciting ethnic and religious hatred because his novel portrayed the 16th-century Turkmen hero Bayram Khan as a Shia rather than a Sunni Muslim.

Bamber Gascoigne paints a wonderful picture of Bayram Khan in his 'A Brief History of the Great Moghuls'. Khan is portrayed as the lynchpin to securing emperor Akbar's magnificent reign whilst acting as regent during Akbar's infancy by some cunning diplomacy backed up with exceptional military prowess. He was rewarded for his loyalty by being appointed Khan-Khanan (Lord of the Lords). According to Gascoigne, Khan - as a Shi'a - was outnumbered amongst the Moghul nobles but was not particularly backward in coming forwards, "appointing an insignificant Shia divine, Shaikh Gadai, to the office of Chief Sadr, one of the two highest ecclesiastical positions in the land."

However, he makes it quite clear that the mirage of religious hostility was a convenient peg upon which the gentry could hang their deeper resentment of Khan's power. Harem intrigue coerced Akbar into parting with his tutor when he came of age and Khan was offered the Moghul version of ostracism by being invited to go to Mecca for the pilgrimage. Khan was murdered in Patan, the ancient capital of Gujarat, by an Afghan warlord keen on exacting revenge from a previous military encounter.

Andalusian Graffiti

An abstract look at the beauty of Andalusia.

Whilst in southern Spain and revelling in the architectural splendour surrounding me it became obvious that a different look at the place was what was needed. It was during one of the many evening strolls, initially through the albayzin in Granada, that we stumbled on some pretty cool looking wall art.

Here we have a photographic tour of the major cities of Andalusia (Granada, Cordoba and Seville) via the medium of graffiti!

I particularly like the thinking moped.

al-Andalus - Day 7

The reconquest continues in Seville. We arrived yesterday in the midday heat (29!) providing a good enough reason (not that we needed one) to satiate our parched gullets with Seville's renowned orange juice. Please warn the grocers back home that orange prices may rocket as my dad works his way through Andalucia's crops.

After Granada we spent a couple of nights in Cordoba, the former Muslim capital. I had forgotten the strong emotions that the provocatively remodelled Mezquita (mosque-cathedral) hybrid could evoke.

Seville's April festival is in full flow - a strange counterpoint to the sombre Holy Week earlier in the month. There are bullfights every day and we visited an exhibition dedicated to Seville's Matador par excellence - Manolo Vazquez - which consisted of some wonderful black and white photography and more surreally the severed ears and tails of the bulls he 'defeated'.

I've rediscovered a previous addiction - cafe bombon. A straight espresso poured into a shot glass laced with sweet condensed milk.

Tahir Shah's 'The Caliph's House' is proving to be a good holiday read. Each chapter is headed with a Moroccan proverb. The most fascinating thus far being "Tomorrow there will be apricots".

Got to go; more of Seville to be discovered.

al-Andalus - Day 3

We spent the morning wandering through the Albayzin - the former Muslim colony built in the 13th century to house refugees (predominantly from Baeza, hence the Arabic derivation of the name) fleeing south from the ethnic cleansing campaign of the Catholic Monarchs. Early Islamic cities have a timeless feel to them and without the subtle Nasirid touches you could quite easily convince yourself of being in the old quarters of Fez or Damascus.

My attempts to build on no formal Spanish language teaching are drawing strange looks; I´m finding it very difficult to fight an overwhelming urge to pronounce every 'c', 's' and 'z' with a prominent lisp making me sound like an even less comprehendable version of Manuel from Fawlty Towers and giving my sister no end of delight.

One of Granada´s local delicacies is the churrito which consists of doughnut like sticks to be dipped in a thick chocolate drink. Needless to say we needed little coaxing into trying this particular specialty. We're planning to return to the Albayzin this evening for a meal and some inspiration - we face the daunting prospect of queueing at 7am tomorrow to secure tickets to visit the Alhambra.

al-Andalus - Day 2

We arrived in Andalusia yesterday following surprisingly little jostling with beer bellies for seating. The plane literally bounced into Malaga confirming my suspicion that the Cockney sounding pilot was in fact a black-cab driver masquerading as a captain - perhaps there's some sort of pioneering time-share scheme between Easyjet and London cabs.

It took a little while to come to terms with the left-hand drive setup but the 2.0l TDi engine meant that I could reliably import my trusted technique of accelerating out of trouble (it's one of those glass half-full/emtpy things). Thirty seconds into our journey we were thanking each other's sagacity in deciding to hire a GPS navigation system.

Our hotel in Malaga was a lovely art-deco building located in what seemed to be...Spain to our utter disbelief - not a single tattoo or St George's cross in sight!

This morning we stumbled across the finale of the Semana Santa, the week leading up to Easter Sunday. The main thoroughfare was awash with parades, marching bands and lined with onlookers. The procession is steeped in imagery, symbolism and iconography, the most visible and distinct being the garments adopted by participants - not too dissimilar to a Klu Klux Klansman's uniform! Some of the floats were of an incredible size requiring tens of young men bearing the weight on their shoulders. The whole event bore a striking resemblance to the Ashura processions held by Shi'a Muslims during their commemoration of Muharram.

Granada was beckoning though and we arrived in Boabdil's last stronghold this afternoon. The hotel is situated on the cusp of the Albayzin looking up to the alhambra itself.

The place is bathed in the most delightful sunlight enhancing the uniquely vibrant colours, the Andalusian pace of life suits me just fine and the coffee is wonderful. Off to get some sleep!

Mocha Madness

Mo•cha n.
1. A rich, pungent Arabian coffee.
2. Coffee of high quality.
3. A flavoring made of coffee often mixed with chocolate.
4. A soft, thin, suede-finished glove leather usually made from sheepskin.
5. Colour. A dark olive brown.

A mocha can prove to be the perfect beverage when you can't quite face the intensity of an espresso but are in no mood to uncover the child within by ordering a hot chocolate. Unless you're in Seville.

Last time I was there, I popped into a reputable looking coffee shop with some friends and ordered a mocha. The barista wouldn't have looked more clueless had I asked for a liquidised poodle in Japanese. I proceeded to explain (via the medium of mime and my primitive Spanish) how the drink was a wonderful concoction, perfectly balancing coffee with chocolate. He repeated my instructions slowly to himself and subsequently to his fellow baristas who in turn broadcast my seemingly blasphemous order around the cafe. By this point everybody was laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of such a drink and of a person who would order it.

I ended up ordering a hot chocolate. Good Friday Mubarak!

Blogistan's State of Affairs

Kitabkhana's Babu gives us a rundown of Delhi's recent Kitabfest 2006.

Jabberwock makes Shashi Tharoor even smoother.

Hijabman makes me laugh with the Jihad Pot.

Avari-Nameh as always serves up food for thought with a very personal account.

Ninjai - The Little Ninja

The awesome Ninjai animated series continues with Chapter 12 now available.

Roman Columns

Columns, Rome, Italy ©Tauseef Mehrali 2001

It's the Postman I feel sorry for

As you drive/walk/crawl down Stratford Road (Birmingham's Asian thoroughfare) you'd be forgiven for thinking that the council was having a laugh - every other premises appears to be number 786.

Rest assured that this is not an elaborate tax evasion ploy. In days of old, each of the letters of the Arabic alphabet was allocated a numerical value. Words, phrases etc could thus be rendered in numerical form to prevent writer's cramp and facilitate spiritual symbolism. 786 is the numerical representation of the first verse of the qur'an.

The total value of the letters of "Bismillah al-Rahman al-Rahim" according to one Arabic system of numerology is 786. There are two methods of arranging the letters of the Arabic alphabet. One method is the most common alphabetical order (used for most ordinary purposes), beginning with the letters Alif ا, ba ب, ta ت, tha ث etc. The other method is known as the Abjad numerals' method or ordinal method. In this method the letters are arranged in the following order: Abjad, Hawwaz, Hutti, Kalaman, Sa'fas, Qarshat, Sakhaz, Zazagh; and each letter has an arithmetic value assigned to it from one to one thousand. (This arrangement was done, most probably in the 3rd century of Hijrah during the 'Abbasid period, following the practices of speakers of other Semitic languages such as Aramaic, Hebrew, Syriac, Chaldean etc.)

If you take the numeric values of all the letters of the Basmala, according to the Abjad order, the total will be 786. In the Indian subcontinent the Abjad numerals have become quite popular. Some people, mostly in India and Pakistan, use 786 as a substitute for Bismillah ("In the name of Allah" or "In the name of God"). They write this number to avoid writing the name of Allah, or Qur'anic verses, on ordinary papers.

Allamah Tabatabai - Philosopher, Exegete and Gnostic

Professor Hamid Algar of the University of Berkley, California, has written a wonderful biography of the late Allamah Muhammad Hussain Tabatabai, erudite author of Tafsir al-Mizan, for this month's Journal of Islamic Studies.

Prof Algar's lecture series on Topics in Islamic Thought and Institutions and Shi'a Islam are worth checking out.

Naipaul's Second Chance

Don't worry. I'm not gracious enough to offer V S Naipaul a second chance. His brutal demolition by the late Prof Edward Said (in amongst other places the essay 'Among the Believers' found in his remarkable collection of essays entitled 'Reflections on Exile') rendered me more likely to eat a vegetable than read anything by Naipaul. (Those of you who know me will no doubt be smiling in recognition of my carnivorous tendencies). However, I must admit to being pleasantly surprised at the wonderful dialogue in Radio 4's dramatisation of Naipaul's book 'A House for Mr Biswas' over the weekend.

I couldn't possibly end with praise of Naipaul so here are some snippets of Said's cutting prose:

"In the post-colonial world he's marked as a purveyor of stereotypes and disgust for the world that produced him - although that doesn't exclude people thinking he's a gifted writer."

"…on the basis of his being a Trinidadian, [Naipaul] has had ascribed to him the credentials of a man who can serve as witness for the third world; and he is a very convenient witness. He is a third worlder denouncing his own people, not because they are victims of imperialism, but because they seem to have an innate flaw, which is that they are not whites."

Hosni Mubarak - the Idiots' Idiot

Why Hosni Mubarak would feel compelled to utter such stupidity I know not.

The episode does bring to mind a scene from Haroon Moghul's (AKA avari-nameh) wonderful novella The Order of Light wherein Egypt disintegrates into the brink of chaos and revolution looms as Hosni makes a terrible slip on public television. He is celebrating yet another term in power and his audience, the Egyptian masses, are stuperose - any semblance of choice comprehensively wrestled from their hands. He goes on to introduce himself with the usual grandiose honorifics but when it comes to his name he pronounces it 'Khosni' rather than Hosni and the irreparable damage is done.

The masses pick up on this seemingly innocuous error and interpret it as a predilection for Hebrew over its Semitic cousin Arabic providing sufficient evidence for them to conclude that Hosni is in fact an agent of their nuclear neighbour and they take to the streets!

Capturing the conqueror

Orhan Pamuk, recently exonerated from offending Turkish national sentiment by daring to mention the Armenian genocide, wrote a fascinating piece in this week's Guardian review on a new exhibition at the National Gallery - Bellini and the East.

The article offers a scholarly insight into the friction and cross-pollination that took place between Renaissance and Ottoman-Persian art that formed the basis of his groundbreaking My Name is Red. The book touched on the rivalry between miniaturists and calligraphers for recognition as being the truest depicters of Allah's creation; the former arguing that their work was most representative whereas the latter held that miniaturism was on a par with creation itself and therefore blasphemous.

The miniaturists developed their own code of conduct and elaborate social rituals - the pinnacle being reaching the point of blindness due to the demands of such intricate work, some artists deliberately blinding themselves to reap the honour of a station they didn't merit. The Safavid court's constant presence and the artistic warfare (besides the military warfare) between the competing sultanates is yet another strand Pamuk develops.

The most striking feature of the book though is the narration of the story (a murder mystery) piecemeal, each chapter told by a different character, including animals and inanimate objects.

No other sultan from the golden age of the Ottoman empire, not even Suleyman the Magnificent, has a portrait like this one. With its realism, its simple composition, and the perfectly shaded arch giving him the aura of a victorious sultan, it is not only the portrait of Mehmed II, but the icon of an Ottoman sultan, just as the famous poster of Che Guevara is the icon of a revolutionary. At the same time, the highly worked details - the marked protrusion of the upper lip, the drooping eyelids, the fine feminine eyebrows and, most important, the thin, long, hooked nose - make this a portrait of a singular individual who is none the less not very different from the citizens one sees in the crowded streets of Istanbul today. The most famous distinguishing feature is that Ottoman nose, the trademark of a dynasty in a culture without a blood aristocracy.

Disastrous Dubai - Part 2

Since my last entry on the protests in Dubai and the Gulf region with migrant workers at the heart of the disturbances, things have moved on. Chan'ad Bahraini provides an update.

Twenty-six

I've been twenty-six for a few days now. If I was born and bred in Sierra Leone, I would expect to live another eleven years (2.8 of which would be 'healthy') according to the World Health Organisation Statistical Information System (WHOSIS).

The Lebanon - not any more

Apparently 'the foreign office funds an organisation - the Permanent Committee on Geographical Names - to decide on correct usage' of definite articles when referring to countries. According to the committee, 'the only "the"s permitted are the Bahamas and the Gambia.'

Confusion still reigns over, and possibly in, (the) Lebanon. There is nothing in its Arabic name to support the use of the definite article, but references to "the Lebanon" are so frequent in English that even one of the staff at the Lebanese embassy in London thinks the "the" is correct until she checks with a senior official.

Read the whole article here.

Trinidadian Insight

Yesterday I was talking to a colleague who trained in Trinidad about an event, indigenous to the island, I had only read about - Hosay Trinidad. Derived from the Ashura processions that are common place in the Shi'a Muslim world commemorating the martyrdom of Hussein, the Prophet's grandson, the festival has taken on a local flavour and 'all of Trinidad's religious and ethnic communities participate in it'.

Hosay (a mispronunciation of Hussein) was introduced to Trinidad by Shi'a labourers from the Indian subcontinent who were displaced by their colonial patrons. 'The first observance of Hosay in Trinidad has been traced back to 1854, eleven years after the first indentured laborers arrived from India.'

My colleague then went on to reflect on how the Hosay festival was in fact one of many manifestations of Trinidad's love of partying and celebrating, reminiscing fondly of hurricane parties (when sinister news is received from the Met office) and curfew parties (when the troublesome Muslimeen group causes unrest)!

Inside the Alhambra

Inside the Alhambra, Granada, Andalusia ©Tauseef Mehrali 2002

Swahili for Beginners

Yale University's Kamusi Project provides a comprehensive beginner's guide to Swahili. My East African heritage probably lends an innate affinity to the language but even an objective outsider has to admit Swahili exudes a certain coolness.

Sijui kama tutaweza kumaliza kazi hii leo lakini tutafanya chini juu.
I don't know whether we'll be able to finish this job today but we'll try our level best.

Rafiki yangu ameanza kufuga ndevu.
My friend has started to grow a beard

Jipe moyo, mtoto atapona.
Take heart, the child will recover.

Alivyokunja uso niliogopa kuzungumza naye.
The way he frowned I was afraid to talk to him.

Nilijaribu kufuga kuku, lakini nimekula hasara - kuku wote walifufa.
I tried to keep chickens but I have suffered a loss - all the chickens died.

Niliota ndoto ya ajabu usiku.
I had a marvellous dream last night.

Disastrous Dubai

Looking back at my visit to Dubai in the mid-nineties, despite the allure of the nihari breakfasts and paya dinners, a lasting memory is of the immigrant workers labouring in the searing midday heat. The Kafkaesque nature of the situation was apparent (well portrayed in Syriana) so the placidity of the workers surprised me. No longer though. Rory McCarthy (he of kidnapped in Iraq fame) reports growing unrest in the dazzling, flagship emirate.

• For the first time, years of accumulated frustration and resentment have now boiled over into a series of strikes and demonstrations


• They began in September when 700 workers blocked a major road, complaining about poor salaries and bad conditions.


• At least eight other strikes and demonstrations followed at building sites across the emirate, culminating last week in a rare and violent protest at Burj Dubai.


• In one evening rampage, 2,500 workers downed tools and attacked security staff, broke into offices and smashed computers and files...and caused several hundred thousand pounds' worth of damage. The next day, workers at the site and other labourers working on the international airport went out briefly on strike.
  
• Similar protests have sprung up among migrant workers in Qatar, Oman and Kuwait.


• Workers can complain as individuals, but trade unions and workers' associations are banned, and the country has still not signed important conventions of the International Labour Organisation.

Read the full article here.

Film Recommendations

A couple of films I've seen recently which are worth hunting down.

Le Grand Voyage
Dir: Ismael Ferroukhi, France/Morocco 2004, 1 hour 48 mins, with subtitles

Winner of the award for best first film at 2004's Venice Film Festival, this is a road trip with a difference. Reda, a second generation Moroccan living in an anonymous town in the South of France finds himself reluctantly coerced into chauffeuring his elderly father, Majid, to Saudi Arabia so the elderly patriarch can fulfill his obligation of performing the hajj - the pilgrimage to Mecca. The 3,000 mile journey claustrophobically staged in a battered old car enables the disparate pair to acquaint themselves with each other while the constantly shifting backdrop provides a striking metaphor for the dynamics of their relationship. 'It's a carefully considered route with Ferroukhi testing the bonds of the relationship with every twist and turn.' The cinematography is stunning, especially the footage from Mecca itself.

Memorable dialogue:

Reda: Why didn't you fly to Mecca? It's a lot simpler.
The Father: When the waters of the ocean rise to the heavens, they lose their bitterness to become pure again...
Reda: What?
The Father: The ocean waters evaporate as they rise to the clouds. And as they evaporate they become fresh. That's why it's better to go on your pilgrimage on foot than on horseback, better on horseback than by car, better by car than by boat, better by boat than by plane.

Cache (Hidden)
Dir: Michael Haneke, France 2005, 1 hour 57 mins, with subtitles

An engaging thriller; a lucid critique of contemporary French society; a measured study of family life; an example of film as allegory; an exposition of guilt. Cache encapsulates all of the above

"Michael Haneke is a director who has developed and fine-tuned his craft over the past two decades to the point that 'Cache' feels like the purest distillation of his film-making style. Haneke closes with a shot which causes the viewer to re-evaluate everything he has just seen, which throws apart all the pieces of the puzzle you thought you had managed to fit together. 'Cache' is a stunningly clinical and intelligent film which commands the utmost attention throughout and will haunt the viewer's thoughts long after it has finished. It is a masterpiece from one of contemporary cinema's most important figures which plays on our deepest anxieties with devastating potency. For these reasons and more, it is essential viewing." (IMDB)

Views from Al-Khiyam

View from Al-Khiyam Prison, South Lebanon ©Tauseef Mehrali 2003.



Courtyard in Al-Khiyam Prison, South Lebanon ©Tauseef Mehrali 2003.

Paan

Paan plays a key role in the complex web of South-east Asian social etiquette. A polite refusal may prompt much speculation over one's state of health and arouse suspicion, over-induglence may hint at Bombay underground criminal connections and moderation cannot be maintained and is simply not an option.

"What is paan?" I hear you cry. I'll allow Salvatore DeTraglia of Taxicab Confessions to answer:

As the ultimate post-meal chaser, many dabhas offer (and some will even make to order) sweet paan. Sweet paan is made by layering (with a spoon, pen or any other readily available utensil) lime paste, gulkand (crushed rose petals in sugar syrup), chopped betel nuts, cardamom and anise seeds, crystallized sugar, cloves and shredded coconut on a fresh betel leaf. The leaf is then tightly folded into a plump triangular package, popped into the mouth and chewed whole. The sensation is unique to anything that western taste buds are likely to have experienced. It is a juicy explosion of layer upon layer of distinct, intense and contrasting flavors and textures—sweet, savory, moist, dry, soft, crunchy, smooth, rough, cool, hot. Sweet paan is the ultimate embodiment of a "love it or hate it" food experience.

Sensory attributes aside, sweet paan has a practical function. Its ingredients are ingeniously engineered to cleanse the palate, freshen breath and aid digestion after a rich, heady meal. But be careful to specify sweet paan when ordering, because paan comes in a tobacco-filled version as well. Although the tobacco paan will also certainly "cleanse" the palate and neutralize the spice residue from one's breath, its properties as a digestif leave something to be desired.

The combinations and permutations are endless: Calcutta leaves, Banarsi leaves, Maggai leaves, sweet, savoury, tobacco etc etc. Check out Benjamin Feen's step-by-step photographic guide on preparing a paan.

However, (ab)use of the areca nut (a common ingredient in paan) is associated with oral cancer amongst other serious risks, as reported in the British Medical Journal:

Areca nut is the seed of the fruit of the oriental palm, Areca catechu. It is the basic ingredient of a variety of widely used chewed products. Thin slices of the nut, either natural or processed, may be mixed with a variety of substances including slaked lime (calcium hydroxide) and spices such as cardamom, coconut, and saffron. Most significantly, they may be mixed with tobacco products or wrapped in the leaf of the piper betel plant. Hence the more common name betel nut. Areca nut is used by an estimated 200-400 million people, mainly IndoAsians and Chinese. It is used by men and women. In some societies the latter predominate. All age groups and social classes use the product. Areca nut has a long history of use and is deeply ingrained in many sociocultural and religious activities.

Of particular interest in the United Kingdom, and perhaps other developed countries, is that use of areca nut continues and is often enhanced following migration. Thus British Asians have brought the use of areca from India (some via East Africa), Pakistan, Bangladesh, and other countries in the region and its use is thus firmly culturally bound. From the medical point of view, the most important consideration is the relation between areca nut use and the development of mouth cancer (oral squamous cell carcinoma) and its precursors leukoplakia and submucous fibrosis.

Historically a betel quid (paan) was often formulated to an individual's wishes but in the United Kingdom and other countries readymade packets of these products are now available as a proprietary mixture known as paan masala. There is increasing evidence that areca products induce a true dependency syndrome. A recent study of Gujarati areca users in north west London assessed their degree of dependency as equivalent to that of cocaine users especially if there is tobacco in the paan masala. Patients describe typical dependency symptoms, with difficulty in abstaining, withdrawal symptoms including headache and sweating, and need for a morning paan to relieve these symptoms. Individuals report queuing outside the paan shops waiting for them to open and continuing sequential use, analogous to chain smoking.

My encounter with authentic paan-making is encapsulated in this photograph from a trip to Delhi in 2003. I literally almost stumbled over this chap in the chaos of Old Delhi. He was selling leaves to paan makers. It was only as I left that I realised his prosthetic leg was tucked neatly behind him so as not to encroach on his shop floor!

The One-Legged Paan Seller, Old Delhi, India ©Tauseef Mehrali 2003

The Ginger Beard Man

A friend recently brought the National Beard Registry to my attention. The Registry's founding aim is 'to encourage men in all walks of life, from every continent, to resist conformity, corporate culture, and androgyny by embracing the beautiful, unique and utterly personal habit of growing a full beard.'

There's even a World Beard and Moustache Championship!

A quick search on Wikipedia provided the following follicular gems:

Ancient Egyptians associated facial hair with mourning. With the exception of a pencil-thin moustache or goatees, they generally found beards unattractive.

The nations in the east generally treated their beards with great care and veneration, and the punishment for licentiousness and adultery was to have the beard of the offending parties publicly cut off. They had such a sacred regard for the preservation of their beards that a man might pledge it for the payment of a debt.

The Persians are fond of long beards. We read in Olearius' Travels of a king of Persia who had commanded his steward's head to be cut off, and on its being brought to him, he remarked, "what a pity it was, that a man possessing such fine mustachios, should have been executed," but added he, "Ah! it was your own fault."

Apparently, the following styles are officially recognised beard-forms:

• Full - downward flowing beard with either styled or integrated moustache
  
• Chinstrap - a beard with long side burns then comes forward and end under the chin resembling a chinstrap, hence the name.
  
• Goatee - a beard formed by a tuft of hair on the chin, in some cases resembling that of a billy goat
  
• Garibaldi - wide, full beard with rounded bottom and integrated moustache
  
• Royale (or impériale) - is a tuft of hair under the lower lip. This is also known as a "soul patch" or "flavor saver"
  
• Stubble - a very short beard of only one to a few days growth
  
• Van Dyck - a goatee accompanied by a moustache
  
• Verdi - short beard with rounded bottom and slightly shaven cheeks with prominent moustache

Reminds me of an episode of the topical BBC quiz 'Have I Got News For You' where Paul Merton was asked to provide a caption for an image depicting a rather traditional looking Muslim gentleman with a violent magma-orange henna-dyed beard sporting a Jinnah cap standing at a bar.

The caption: "Barman! I ordered a ginger beer!"

My Weekend

I've been politely requested to ensure the blog is updated on a more regular basis. The lack of an online presence has not been a convoluted ploy to create the facade of being busy but the direct result of actually being busy. Now that things have settled down, mehrali.com can breathe again.

I spent last weekend on-call at night on the neonatal unit. This involves keeping an eye on the tiny pocket-sized babies on the intensive care unit ensuring they're not misbehaving and the unpredictable element of attending deliveries on the labour ward. Being part of such a personal moment of peoples' lives still strikes me as somewhat surreal and as with most tasks it doesn't take long to find the harmonic frequency that you resonate along and go through the motions.

I was jilted from this steady state over the weekend though when requested to carry out a task not usually part of the paediatrician's armoury: a mother asked me to recite the adhan for her baby boy. This entails reciting the Muslim call to prayer near the infant's ear with a view to introducing it to the core tenets of the faith. The recitation, at risk of sounding morbid, takes on a more symbolic role though and can leave you feeling quite humbled - Muslim tradition dictates that a newborn child has the adhan recited to it whereas the prayer for the deceased is not accompanied by a call; philosophers have surmised that the adhan recited to the baby is in fact the call to its funeral prayer, alluding to the brevity of life.

All this heavy stuff got me thinking about a book I reviewed a while ago and haven't returned to since - When You Hear Hoofbeats, Think of a Zebra by Shems Friedlander.

His extensive travels combined with a profound understanding of the spiritual dimension of Islam render him a most able guide towards the elusive domain of self-knowledge. A noble and essential goal, for Imam Ali has said “Whosoever knows himself knows his Lord.”

The title of the book neatly encapsulates its aims; our total immersion in the dunya has conditioned us to imagine horses when thinking of hoofbeats. Friedlander’s objective is to encourage the reader to see things in a different manner – akin to lateral thinking, but exercising the heart and not the mind. To achieve this, Friedlander punctuates his readable text with stories. Daniel Goleman, one of the key proponents of EQ (emotional quotient), says of stories, they ‘have a unique power, an ability to make their points without marshalling the mental resistance that more sharply reasoned rational appeals often raise. Knowledge is best transmitted through rational means, speaking directly to the mind. But wisdom strikes to the heart when it is carried in a tale.’ The late Idries Shah was instrumental in introducing this predominantly Eastern art form to the Western audience via the ‘exploits of the incomparable Mulla Nasruddin’.

The realisation that ancient methods of instruction have something concrete to offer the modern world of fuzzy logic is illustrated by a recent paper published in the British Medical Journal, ‘The power of stories over statistics’. The author ponders why stories are so powerful and suggests two reasons: a biologically hardwired predilection of the brain for stories (compared to other forms of input) and the role of the storyteller. How many times have you sat through a lesson or a lecture and emerged with little to show for it? Yet on other occasions either because of a particularly quirky or gifted narrator, or due to the resonance of a particular analogy, the relevant point can be recalled vividly. Goleman sees the methodology as ‘the antidote to what has been called “psychosclerosis”, hardening of the attitudes.’

The book is divided into twelve sections: eleven brief expositions and a ‘gift’ from the author in the form of a letter from Imam Ali to his son extracted from Nahj al-Balagha. Each section presents new concepts but maintains a degree of repetition enabling the reader to constantly revisit the author’s core themes: Allah (swt) and death.

The author urges us to be mindful of Allah (swt) and proposes that the only means to do so is to interrupt the monotony of our lives by introducing adventure. This is not necessarily in the form of jungle-trekking and white-water rafting, but to a much milder degree. Our days can tend towards a repetitiveness which desensitises us to creation. These Groundhog days ensure we lose our connection with our Creator, who manifests Himself through creation. By stepping back and doing things even slightly differently, we can re-establish the ontological chain that connects everything with God, and reawaken ourselves to His presence.

The author tells us of an old dervish he once met in Madinah who told him that ‘life is a gift that consists of three days and two are gone’. It is with such simple yet multivalent anecdotes that Friedlander gives impetus to the text and immediately follows this jolting of the heart with practical measures that can be readily implemented. Thus he moves spirituality from the world of intellectualisation – chin-rubbing and beard-stroking – to the world of pragmatism and action. The work is impregnated with hadith and axioms of scholars, giving the charm a seal of authenticity.

A descendant of the Prophet (saw) is reported to have said ‘Worship is not merely frequent prayers and fasting. True worship is contemplation on Divine matters’. Friedlander appreciates the value of such wisdom and emphasises that ‘action is not just five prayers a day’. However, the author also appreciates that this is easier said than done, especially with the dunya forever presenting new charms to lure people back to their old ways. ‘If we can just say, “I’m turning on the television, and the television is turning me off”, how long will we watch?’ He does not advocate a monastic lifestyle of seclusion, but urges restraint from total detachment from reality. It may surprise you to note that the psychophysiologist Thomas Mulholland has found ‘that after just 30 seconds of watching television the brain begins to produce alpha waves [that] are associated with unfocused, overly receptive states of consciousness… In fact, Mulholland's research implies that watching television is neurologically analogous to staring at a blank wall.’

Perhaps the most engaging aspect of the book is its advice regarding relationships with others, which are classified as private, personal or professional. We all realise that the most important sphere is the private – reserved for those dearest to us, foremost of which is Allah (swt) – yet we spend the most time in the other spheres. Friedlander suggests means of redistributing this subconscious misallocation. Central to the thesis is the need to appreciate creation – including fellow humans – in order to truly love the Creator. Others act as vital mirrors of our own qualities. A notion that culminates in our own souls reflecting the Divine attributes. Key to this is abolition of the ego via the correct use of words. There is a reason ‘why Allah has placed our words in a mouth that imprisons them by rows of teeth, hard teeth that clamp shut. And lips that seal the mouth.’

I found the book enlightening and have since re-read it, a gesture previously reserved for William Dalrymple. Inevitably, a review can serve only to whet the appetite or sour the palate, but as a final note, any book that draws to your attention the fact that the palmar creases on your hands spell 81 and 18 in Arabic numerals, which amount to 99, and yet we continue to perform misdeeds with these same hands is surely worthy of at least a cursory perusal and maybe even of becoming a companion for life.

Night shifts as a tool for introspection - who'd have thought!

Impak - Quake Relief Summer Program 2006

The Bo Kaap

The Bo Kaap District, Cape Town, South Africa. ©Tauseef Mehrali 2003

Christmas Mubarak!

Eavesdropping 2

Not really eavesdropping as the conversation involved myself but as there's already an 'Eavesdropping 1' post, why curtail a potentially highly successful and lucrative book deal?

Sat at a restaurant in Manchester's over-hyped self-christened curry mile AKA Wilmslow Road I don't know what overcame me but I decided to order a Chicken Toofan [sic] which had four chillis alongside its name to indicate capsaicin content (inversely proportional to actual flavour). When the chicken blocks smeared with tomato paste and chilli powder arrived, I rapidly realised that a carbonated beverage would be wise. Having ordered the drink I waited and waited whilst emptying the tanker of tap water alongside me.

As the amiable waiter (W) began clearing the table I (LA) made an enquiry:

LA - You forgot the Coke.
W - [Taking slightly longer than normal to compute a simple piece of information eventually breaks into a broad smile] Thank you sir. Thank you very much.

As he tidied away the crockery he stopped before leaving the table and turned,

W - Thank you. Dessert please?
LA - I'll have the bill please.

Lost in translation?

Lane's Lexicon

The prestigious (and prodigious) Lane's Lexicon - an extensive dictionary of the Arabic language started by Edward William Lane in 1863 and completed posthumously, by his nephew Professor S L Poole - is now online and avaialable for download.

Letter published in The Guardian Review

In response to Oliver Miles' review of Robert Fisk's The Great War for Civilisation. It's a shame they edited the letter's original title: Pedants Unite!

Role of Fatima

In addition to being the cousin of the prophet, as Ahdaf Soueif rightly points out in her response to Oliver Miles's review of Robert Fisk's The Great War for Civilisation ("The big picture", November 19), Imam Ali was also the prophet's son-in-law by virtue of marrying his only daughter, Fatima. Miles is quite correct: "mistakes undermine the reader's confidence".Link

Legends of Cricket

Take a multimedia tour through the cricketing hall of fame at Cricket Clips. The Waqar Younis video clips bring tears to the eye.

Khat and Paste

The government is finally contemplating banning the drug of choice of African/Arab migrants - Khat ('qat, kat, khat, khut, qut or xat depending on which expert you talk to').

The leaves are imported on regular flights from Africa as they remain potent for only 36 hours after being picked.

In the Nacro study 49% of the 553 Somalis interviewed said they wanted to see khat made illegal and even 25% of those who regularly used the drug agreed it should be outlawed. But a substantial minority - 35% - felt that khat use helped to maintain cultural identity.

The home secretary has asked the Advisory Council on the Misuse of Drugs to report by next month on whether the drug should be banned. Khat leaves are legal in Britain but their active ingredients, cathinone and cathine, are listed as class C drugs. The leaves are already banned in America, Sweden, Canada and Norway. (Full story)

Matthew Fort, a Guardian journalist, wrote about his own Khat experience a couple of years ago.

The suspense is killing me

Two juicy snippets of gossip from the literary world about William Dalrymple:

TRAVEL writer William Dalrymple has moved to Bloomsbury, following his editor Michael Fishwick with whom he worked closely for nearly 20 years at HarperCollins. Fishwick has bought five new books via agent David Godwin, the first of which, The Last Moghul, will be published in October 2006. Fishwick said: “I am immensely happy to have brought William Dalrymple to Bloomsbury. I have worked with him ever since I took on his first travel book, In Xanadu, nearly 20 years ago, and am looking forward to a similar period of time working with one of the greatest, most brilliant and exciting people writing today.” (Publishing News)

And from the Guardian:

He is now at work on a Mughal Quartet, four books telling the story of the Great Mughals from the time of Babur to the last Emperor, Bahadur Shah Zafar. The first volume will be published by Bloomsbury next autumn.

Desert Camel Jockeys

Having teased several Arab friends (and acquaintances) with the above term of endearment it appears that even this task has been wrestled from their grasp. Enter the Robot Camel Jockeys!

Robots, designed in Switzerland, riding camels in the Arabian desert. Camel jockey robots, about 2 feet high, with a right hand to bear the whip and a left hand to pull the reins. Thirty-five pounds of aluminum and plastic, a 400-MHz processor running Linux and communicating at 2.4 GHz; GPS-enabled, heart rate-monitoring (the camel's heart, that is) robots. Mounted on tall, gangly blond animals, bouncing along in the sandy wastelands outside Doha, Qatar, in the 112-degree heat, with dozens of follow-cars behind them. I have seen them with my own eyes.

Here's the full story.

Bush - Exit stage left

George Bush tried to make a hasty retreat from a press conference in China - through a locked door.

What a moron. See the Channel 4 report here.

Cricketing Supplication

Spotted this rather predatory invocation on a banner in the crowd on Day 2 of the Test in Faisalabad:

"Bab Waalmer v.v. good coch
We prey to Pakistan teem"

Can you imagine?

Can you imagine the furore if, for instance, a one-eyed, hook-for-hands had uttered the following, reported in yesterday's Guardian? Jovial Irish eccentricity?

A Democratic Unionist councillor who said hurricane Katrina was sent to the US by God to punish the New Orleans gay community yesterday stood by his views despite calls for his resignation.

Maurice Mills, twice mayor of Ballymena, said New Orleans was about to host an annual gay pride festival when God intervened through Katrina.

It was a warning to nations "where such wickedness is increasingly promoted and practised". Northern Ireland gay rights campaigners said he should be sacked. But he said: "This is me as an individual taking a stand for God."

Guardian pulls Chomsky interview

In response to a sorry excuse for an interview in The Guardian's G2 section (the original article has been removed from The Guardian's website but can be accessed here) Prof Noam Chomsky 'complained to the readers' editor over comments attributed to him about the Srebrenica massacre.'

The US academic and activist had complained that the October 31 interview, published in the newspaper and on Guardian Unlimited, falsely portrayed him as denying that massacres were committed there during the Bosnian war.

Professor Chomsky complained in particular about the headline for the interview which read: "Q: Do you regret supporting those who say the Srebrenica massacre was exaggerated? A: My only regret is that I didn't do it strongly enough."

The Guardian's readers' editor, Ian Mayes, said today in a corrections and clarifications column printed in the paper, that no question in that form had been put by interviewer Emma Brockes to Prof Chomsky and that "the headline was wrong and unjustified by the text".

In an open letter dated November 13 on his official website Chomsky.info, Prof Chomsky attacked the Guardian interview as a "scurrilous piece of journalism" where the reporter had a definite agenda.

Chomsky's letter is worth a read.

Gliding

Camps Bay, Cape Town, South Africa. ©Tauseef Mehrali 2003

Letter to The Guardian

In response to a text box accompanying an article in today's Guardian:

Dear Sir

The information box outlining the Iranian President's 'devotion to a mystical religious figure' (Second coming - The president's beliefs, November 18) implies that the belief in the Mahdi is a cultish and exclusively Shi'a construct. In fact, the Mahdi is an integral figure in Islamic eschatology such that several individuals have laid claim to the title for various ends. The main difference between the Shi'a and Sunni perspectives is whether the Mahdi has been born or not. The former believe he has, is in a period of occultation and await his reappearance.

A Very Indian Outlook

A 10 year old boy from Nagpur, India, considers his rare birth defect to be an advantage:

Devender Harne, 10, was born with 25 fingers and toes -- six fingers on each hand, six toes on one foot and seven on the other.

Though it would be considered an abnormality to some, Devender says it allows him to work faster than the average child.

The extra digits on his hands and feet don't hinder his daily life. Like any normal 10-year-old, he goes to school, plays sports and spends time with his friends.

The Guinness Book of World Records has contacted the boy's family and is investigating whether he has the most useful fingers and toes in the world.

(Source).

Rumi makes it into the BMJ!

From this week's British Medical Journal:

Medicine's need

Where lowland is, that's where water goes. All medicine wants is pain to cure.
Delicious laughter: rambunctious teaching stories from the Mathnawi of Jelaluddin Rumi (1207-73). Compiled and translated by Coleman Barks. Maypop, 1990

BMJ 2005;331:1142 (12 November), doi:10.1136/bmj.331.7525.1142

Moustapha Akkad dies

The Syrian born director/producer Moustapha Akkad and his daughter Rima have been confirmed as two of the victims of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi's latest attrocity. The 68-year old directed the groundbreaking 1977 film 'The Message' starring Anthony Quinn that portrayed the life of the Prophet of Islam and introduced his history to a Western audience via the Silver screen for the first time.

BBC News Coverage.

La Haine

Mathieu Kassovitz, director of the powerful French film La Haine (Hate) which I vividly recall first seeing, posted a statement about La Republique's fortnight of rioting on his website yesterday. The film itself 'detailed the aftermath of a riot on an impoverished Paris housing project' and graphically captures the explosive racial tensions between the Parisian elite and the immigrant French underclass by focusing on the shared experiences of a young ghetto trio comprising a second generation Arab, West African and Eastern European Jew.



The following is an extract (of an extract!) published in today's Guardian entitled 'It's hard not to cheer the rioters':

As much as I would like to distance myself from politics, it is difficult to remain distant in the face of the depravations of politicians. And when these depravations draw the hate of all youth, I have to restrain myself from encouraging the rioters.

Nicolas Sarkozy, who has appeared in the media like a starlet from American Idol and who for the past years has been showering us with details of his private life and political ambitions, cannot prevent himself from creating an event every time his ratings go down. This time, Sarkozy [who last week described the rioters as "scum"] has gone against everything the French republic stands for: the liberty, the equality and the fraternity of a people.

By acting like a warmonger, he has opened a breach that I hope will engulf him. Hate has kindled hate for centuries and yet Sarkozy still thinks that repression is the only way to prevent rebellion. History has proved to us that a lack of openness and philosophy between different communities engenders hate and confrontation. Sound and fury are the only means for many communities to make themselves heard.

Maps for Lost Lovers by Nadeem Aslam in 5 Bullet Points

A beautifully written novel that verges on the poetic throughout - the intoxicating red of the Cinnabar moth; the magnetic luring of snow towards the earth...

Very well researched and damn good story - probably did take him the 11 years he claims to have required

Portrays a seismic point of contact between two very different traditions of the Subcontinental Islamic World - the traditional Muslim outlook and the disillusioned if not outright atheistic outlook

Highlights the unchallenged inconsistencies in people's thought

Describes a world (an anonymnous English town given the pseudonym of Dasht-e-Tanhaii - Desert of Solitude) that is simultaneously familiar yet totally foreign to me.

Eid Mubarak!

Eid Mubarak to you all.

Luna(r)cy

Something I posted in April. Here we go again...

With the imminent advent of moonfighting committees to diffuse the havoc caused by moonsighting committees, and the launch of the new Conservative manifesto, perhaps it's time to borrow a Tory phrase and get 'back to basics'. The perennial drive to standardise the Islamic calendar may well be blinkering us from the actual ethos behind the act of moonsighting - regaining a sense of perspective.

Hamza Yusuf touches on the issue in his commentary on Sachiko Murata and William Chittick's 'Vision of Islam' by quoting an unnamed Scottish phenomenologist:

There are efforts to standardise the Islamic calendar so that Ramadhan can be started on the same day in different communities. But the relationship of the celestial bodies to the earth is a living thing and every location has its own sky. So why shouldn't religious festivals begin on dates peculiar to different places? The modern mind, however, wishes to generalise and abstract the situation so the phenomena are bypassed. As with the length of the day, the average is calculated and becomes the accepted truth to accommodate the limits of circular wheels in clocks, yet none of the celestial bodies moves in circles.

You can listen to the relevant extract (in mp3 format) from Hamza Yusuf's commentary here.

Some comments arising therefrom:

Mohammed said...
Yeah i just listened to that snippet yesterday on the zaytuna website. I found it to be insightful. I wish ppl would explain the system of moonsighting itself as well. I think 99.9% of muslims dont understand it, including me.

10/04/2005 10:55 PM

Anonymous said...
Since Islam encourages the use of technology, I (even as a girl) would say it was quite simple to click on an obervatory website (Jodrell Bank for example) and in 2 seconds flat, you can find out if the moon has been sighted. They use these MASSIVE telescopes that are awfully complicated and surprisingly accurate. Easy as pie.

11/02/2005 12:43 PM

Leo_Africanus said...
But where's the fun in that?!

11/02/2005 1:08 PM

Dome

The Islamic Museum, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. ©Tauseef Mehrali 2005

Eavesdropping

A couple of months ago I met up with my sister for a pizza in town. Sitting at the table adjacent to ours were a couple of college students: a waif-like girl (G) and a boy (B) who couldn't decide whether he was more interested in her or his mountain of pizza slices.

B - Are you sure you don't want some pizza?
G - Nah. I'm on a diet innit.

[B proceeds to maul his buffet meal while G looks on, having ordered nothing.]

B - So what's your favourite meal then?
G - Oh that's a tricky one...hmmm...I don't know.
B - If you had to choose something that was your number one food...
G - Ok.Ok. It's gotta be Filet-o-Fish. Man, that is delicious. In fact, I love Filet-o-Fish.
B - Really? Qasme I think it's rough. Why do you love it?
G - Oh man. I can't explain it. It's different to liking something. Like, you know, I could like a guy cos he has a nice bag but you don't know why you love something. You just do. It just tastes so different.

[Some silent munching ensues]

B - Have you noticed me before?
G - Yeah, in science innit.