Guests were visiting. One lady wanted to visit the bathroom. I guided her, and left her to arrange the tea trolley, and make tea. Later on after the guests left, I found wet sandals lying in the dressing room. I realized who did it. The guest should have asked me for bathroom slippers to wash her feet instead of ruining my footwear. Apparently she needed to make ablution for prayers, and not finding any bathroom slippers she decided to use mine for washing her feet, and thus ruining my footwear.
I find guests like the above vexing in behavior. I can never dream of using someone’s hairbrush, or comb, but that’s what one lady did, when she visited unexpectedly. Coming to call her for tea, I found her using my comb, and poking among the various items lying on my dressing table. Annoying!
Another time I found the wardrobe doors opened, and my things spilling out from it. I felt murderous towards the family I had invited to dinner at our home. Now what were they up to?
At other times I have tried to ignore when guest’s children open the fridge, or pantry door to grab foodstuff they like without asking for permission first. You will think it’s their home not ours.
I can go on, and on ………
The downstairs tenant had left the house dirty, and uncleaned. I felt like vomiting with the first look at the master bedroom’s bathroom. The men I had hired wanted extra money for cleaning it. If I left it to them, I knew beforehand that they will charge the money, and won’t do the cleaning properly the way I wanted it done. There was nothing to it, but to do it myself.
It took me a day, or two to make myself do the job awaiting me. I took off my specs, so I couldn’t see properly. I knew that with specs I wouldn’t like to be in that place. After four hours of slogging, it looked a bit better than the state I had found it in.
The downside of a dirty house had invited mice. Whenever I passed the house I could see a light burning during day hours. I asked, and the answer was to to keep the mice away. I couldn’t believe, “How come there were mice inside?”
I never realized once my dirty tenants would vacate my home, the mice will make a trek upstairs. I woke up to a rustling noise in the middle of night. I switched on my bed-lamp. A tiny white mouse rushed from the back side of the lamp, and jumped down to the floor. At that moment I gave an involuntary shriek. I usually get up between two, and three to offer my Tahajud Prayer. It was earlier, but I decided to get up. I did my Wadu, and stood upon the prayer mat. At that moment the mouse made an another appearance, and frightened me by running across the prayer mat.
Another disturbing thing was upon making up my bed was the evidence of the mouse sharing my bed. You can’t imagine my mental state. Yesterday when I was making up my bed I found the tiny shit again, I was in despair as what to do?
Yesterday I bought the pellets for killing mice, and left them strategically placed. Before sleeping 💤 I loudly recited Ayat – ul – Kursi. Thankfully the mouse kept away from my bed. Insha’Allah I will be keeping this routine till the day of my coming departure.
My readers must be wondering what has happened to me? It has been a long absence from writing. I arrived back in dusty Peshawar for a two months stay. A month is nearly over. My basic reason was to pay the taxes due on my properties, and try to sell my village home, and land. My evil step brother in law Bashir, and his cohorts had been trying to sell off my home, and land in my absence, but big thanks to God, they have been unsuccessful.
In my previous visit, I had found a buyer, but he backed off. This time I found another buyer. Mr. Evil sent his minions with gunmen to the property dealer to tell him that the buyer should deal with him as the said property belongs to him. After that they visited the buyer too to tell him the same lies. They have tried to malign my character too, that this woman is a big fraud who tries to sell off property to various people, and takes token money.
I’m filled with anger, grief, and disappointment over their deceit. My these step relatives are like a pack of hyenas surrounding me, spreading false rumors. Actually this year, the price of my property in the village shot up six times the original price, and they are salivating, wanting to grab what rightfully belongs to me , and my children.
I have written to the Services Directorate to deal with Mr. Evil, visited Deputy Commissioner Charsadda, and asked for police help. Further I have registered a complaint with the Portal of the new Prime Minister of Pakistan. Hopefully I look forward to a fair outcome to my problem.
I hope, and pray to Allah to resolve my problem . I used to tell my children to bring back my dead body after death, and bury me in the space towards my husband’s feet (a step aunt has been buried beside him. It was the space I wanted) Now I wouldn’t like to be buried in the same land as Mr. Evil.
There are times when I don’t like it when someone calls. One is at prayer times. The phone starts ringing, and I pick up the phone expecting a short call. The call goes on, and on. The caller won’t end the call, and my prayer time is over. I’m the guilty party too. I forget I was going to say my prayers, and it’s easier to lay the blame on someone else. Sometimes I think it’s an act of Iblees (devil) to keep me away from saying my prayers on time, and stop my audience with Allah.
I do love chatting with family, and friends, but there are moments I don’t. Whole days are over, and no one calls, and then I get deluged with calls. My sister– she disappears for days on end. She never answers her phone, and then she is like calling day, and night.
Then there are calls from home country. My relatives never, ever remember that when it’s daytime there, it’s night here. The call comes at 2am, or 3am, and I can’t go back to sleep when sleep time has been disrupted. I get sleep deprived, and then have a hazy mind all day.
If only I could have short chats frequently, and for a few minutes— not for hours on end I will be one happy person.
“If you forget to water it, and it dried up while I’m not here, I will die”. I was telling Son to look after my newest baby (my new plant), during the months I’ll be away in Peshawar. Realizing I had an interested audience by the smiles on their faces, I cut short my diatribe at Son.
My oft repeated words with Son are:
“I’m dying!” It means I’m very tired.
“I’m going to die”. This means I’m going to be vexed if things didn’t happen the way I want them.
“I’ll die!” If you are not listening to what I’m telling you to do.
The dying process continues in so many words which at times irritate Son in saying, ” God forbid some day you might be really needing help while saying you are dying, and I’ll take them as your usual words. Stop making statements like these”.
With free movies to watch, and little time, it was hard to decide on a movie. With all the hoopla surrounding Fifty Shades of Grey I managed to watch the first one, and the last one in the series. I had heard so much about the book, but have not read it so far. It isn’t a film which one can see with children. The ending scenes in the last one made up for the disappointment in watching the first one.
Next I tried to make up my mind which movies I should watch. I couldn’t decide. I rang up daughter saying random names of the movies available, and asked for her opinion. We both have same taste in movies, and songs. Before asking her I clicked on several, but after a few minutes of watching I would get bored. On her recommendation I watched The Space Between Us.
It was interesting. With Mars as a background the movie was fun to watch, and I liked it.
Buzzard Bay. In the distance you can see the bridge where we cross over to Cape Cod.
The bridge over the river.
Son, and I were invited to Thanksgiving by one of the surgeons he works with. Learning that I live with my son, he invited me as well. I wasn’t very keen, but my son persuaded me to go along with him. It was my first visit to Cape Cod.
Our hosts didn’t know that as Muslims we are prohibited to eat pork. Their every dish contained pieces of bacon. The turkey wasn’t halal, so we couldn’t have that either. I buttered a piece of bread, and had it. Later on I had a slice of pecan pie.
Returning home, we foraged our fridge to have something to eat, and then sleep.