Top 50 Blogs: in humanity

I'm having a pretty random day. And so a random search for my blog brought me to discover this:

Apparently, SoapBox Shafinaaz makes some random list by NetworkedBlogs as number 19 on the Top 50 Blogs: in humanity.

I had no idea that such a thing existed. Nor was I notified.
But it's obviously some part of the Networks way of marketing readable blogs at various stages; making blogs known to the rest of the blogosphere, and to pretty much the rest of the virtual surfers out there... What I am curious about is the criteria involved in making this assessment. The social scientist in me wants to know :P

In related news, "Memoirs For Kimya", the blog-to-book, is having an inspired new year so far :D

I'm the one that's at a loss for words, for the most part.
Yes, stranger things do occur.

Peaceful thoughts to all...

S

tests of compulsion,love and creativity

I have noticed something rather strangely appealing about the blog- and social media world in general. And that is, the worms that find their way out of the woodwork are outnumbered by the people who will leave notes of wonder and encouragement at your blog-doorstep, at precisely the moment when you need to read it most.

I have also paid attention to the trend of writing that follows the blog world, and the facebook/twitter updates that arise from various people across the globe. This is not some kind of discourse analysis of it all, just an awe-inspired sharing of my observations. I had a chat with one of my dearest friends recently, and I have to make the following comment; I believe that every person who lives on this planet, should in some way be able to sit down and write about their lives, even if it's just about one day that serves as a landmark day, their first love, animate or inanimate reference, their marriage, the birth of a child, the death or loss of a loved one. Anything. The hue of stories waiting to be told and heard are as countless as the experiences had by people in general. And once told, the shared stories will reveal a kind of continuum of life energy, humanity and spirituality that transcends the often imagined boundaries that we seem to find ourselves comforted by, and accustomed to.

I have been allowing alot of stress to filter into my life this past week or so. Which is undeniably unusual for me, because not only do I like having all my ducks in a row, but I'm a pretty easy-going girl for the most part.
Perhaps the two aren't exactly mutually exclusive; having ducks in a row makes for easy living, and less stress in the long term.

This is adrenalin on erm speed. Does that sound right? I didn't think so. Okay let me try that again. It's the good adrenalin of something that I am working towards, compounded by the not so good feeling that I may not make the self-imposed deadlines that I have now confirmed to a portion of the world at large. Makes sense? I'm being cryptic. I know. But it's temporary. Hopefully it will all be resolved, at most by the end of this week. It's yet another exciting project, about to be made manifest and one which has had some behind the scenes work for some years now. So here's hoping that it works out in the best way that it can. Taking into consideration my hectic budgetary constraints and all that.

Then onto the writing thing.
The biography project has become a slow and deliberating attempt to unveil the identity and being of a person about whom very little has been written, and we are relying on a large amount of primary data from people who held him in high esteem, but not all of them engaged with him directly. Needless to say, some worthy gems have been uncovered. One of my most trying recent interviewees looked me in the eye and asked: 'Are you serious about this work?' and 'Can you write?'
Most of these people are skeptics of a long-forgotten era. Some are high ranking people, used to business above pleasure. And many are almost 3 times my age. It's a more than forgivable skepticism. I was tested. And apparently I more than won approval at the end of it all. I was thrilled with the balance of the conversation, of course.

I'm editing more than writing, at the moment. It has been two years since my book 'Daughters are Diamonds' was launched at the Cape Town Book Fair. In that time, I have done many little things that seem to be adding up to delightful newness, and I have met myriad people of the same. Also, I have compiled two manuscripts in the last year. I am figuring out what to do with them :)

Much Love,
S

sparkiness, samoosa crackle and family love

I am sitting in complete darkness. The lights went out at 6:20pm; I heard my mom gasp, as the samoosa's shrieked in horror from their pot of sparkling oil. Something had disrupted their little dance routine, for sure! In the mean time, speaking of routines, Madeeha sat on my lap in front of this laptop and wanted to just 'pwess buttons, masi'. Simple request. She is mesmerized by the wonders of the internet, and she's only almost two. Anyway, so the downing of lights was enough to take our attention away from magic kissing hearts, dancing bears and talking birds online.

Scattered around the house, I could hear the shuffle of feet looking for candles. My sister, Madeeha's mom, Dilshaad, sought out baby. Baby is most comfortable. Of course. Back in my room, we had discovered scented rose candles and set those alight. And baby wanted to help me. Lovely. Guided by the light of my mobile phone, we walked across to the living area. Oil still crackled on defiantly, anouncing its heated state long after the electricity cut. Samoosa's bore the brunt of this affair: browning on one side and remaining an uncooked white on the other side. What a waste. Unless you're okay with artistic re-renderings of the fried hors d'oevre.

Still, we totter about in wonder of what might be going on. Bills paid. Mains in order. Now what? Darkness is also a moment to reflect on things unreflecting.
My sister in law remembers that she misplaced her own mobile phone. Using the last of my battery power I dial hers in a rescue mission effort. Found it! The games on it will help with the mundane sitting around and waiting to see what transpires. This here laptop will last a few hours until the battery gives up from sheer exhaustion, and the 3-G modem is helpful as ever now that the adsl is down. It's amazing that we survive beyond the glory of electricity. It is a wonder, indeed.

Mums made some calls. Dad and brother have not yet arrived from work, and when they do, they will descend on a home set aside from the city by its stark darkness. But inside it, candles dance to a different tune, and hearts wait warmed by the thought that all will sit around together in this contemplation of life without sparky electric current, yet filled with the charge of love :)

"we are too vain to die"

roses are red, like the blood in my eyes;

violets are blue, bruised, bashed, broken as i am.

sugar is sweet; the taste of saliva and the chocolate in my mouth that hasn't been swallowed...

but life with you; a guilt edged sword making its way down my back and up again,
the tip pointing precariously towards that soft skin at the back of my neck;

waiting. to boomerang, and then to take the plunge.





ok the above was just a play on words, really.... using the already over-used roses-are-red quatrain. i am in the middle of editing my manuscript for the umpteenth time and my protagonist pain must be poured out here so that it doesn't burn a hole in my skin. so there. thats done.

first and foremost title credit goes to freelance hero. it's these words that, although gleaned from arb chat, got the wordy juices flowing. simply put, what occurred to me is that, ego is our canon of survival and transient life, but it's also what stands in the way of the soul's yearnings and wishes to reach that Closeness to a Higher Power in whatever way one might make Him out to be.

it is true, though. indeed, we are too vain to die. i can't disagree with those words. death is far easily seen as the fore-written event that we will make our way towards. He who made must unmake. it won't be of our own accord. but I am wondering about self-destructive tendencies in other walks of life... or even in this dance between life and death. we're a bunch of narcissists really. there's little choice in denying it. and so the space for vanity is further exploded. little wonder there!

WebComic

PS: No Idea how to make this smaller. Its the smallest that blogger allows. Please click on image to see full cartoon.

Mumbai Burning...

Just after 8pm this evening, my mom was watching the news on ND-TV, and emergency reports displayed breaking news of terror attacks in Mumbai. All they said was that grenades had been strewn across the foyers of the famous Oberoi, Taj and Trident hotels in and around Colaba, in the south of the city. I was on my way out to supper, and my friends indignant hooter had me out the door before I could get more news. And I thought, it's just the major hotels, hopefully no fatalities; will check it out when I get home.

Later news said, even the JW Marriott in Juhu was under attack by gunmen. Shootouts were reported around the major hospitals, St Georges in particular. I just got home. VT Station looks like it's been the grounds of a genocide. Bodies and Blood pepper the paved court around the victorian building. My phone rang five minutes ago. Mumbai, is Burning. I put the news on once again. It's like watching a badly filmed movie. The Taj, a heritage hotel flanked by the Gateway, is in flames! As of right now, a hundred people have been rescued from the Taj.

The bizarre is being normalised. This has become a regular occurrence. Gosh. There's a death count of number of innocents and number of cops killed. What is this, from the Wild West to the Inferno Ridden East?!