Tag Archives: journey

Terminal Changes

The picture Naming Things hangs at Boston Logan Airport.

The airline people did a complete turn around. At the last minute the terminal changed from 18 to 29. There I was ready to board the plane from La Guardia to Fort Worth when Son came back to tell me my terminal had changed. We rushed from one end to another. I would have missed my plane. Son took me to the correct one, and then took leave to catch his plane to New Orleans.

Brooklyn, New York. A view from above.

Flushing- Queensboro Hill, New York from above.

M1, and M2 (grand daughters) reached our place in New Bedford at midnight. They had started from Washington DC. M1 had enlisted M2’s help in getting her things from storage there. It was M2’s first visit to us here. M1 had come to collect her stuff which she had left with us. The freezer contained some of her frozen food too. Son, and I were going to leave at seven in the morning. It was quite a hectic beginning of the day. Son helped both the girls in loading the truck with M1’s belongings. We managed to leave on time to catch our bus to Logon Airport. Son, and I were traveling together for the first part of our journey, and from La Guardia in New York, we went in different directions.

Son will be visiting his children in Houston after New Orleans. After that he will Insha’Allah come to spend the morning of Eid with us at Dallas, and then leave for New Bedford before noon. The plan for me is to spend two weeks with Nola (daughter). Initially I wanted to leave with Son, but Nola didn’t like my plan at all for a short stay. Nothing will please her more, till I come to stay permanently with her. That can only happen if, and when Son marries. I hope it happens soon.



Yesterday I had a shock. I eagerly searched for a number in my old phone diary. I waited to hear the voice of my friend, and learned to my horror she was no more. Knowing fully well that no one can escape death, I had never thought that she will die so soon. The person who talked to me didn’t know any details.

Another sad happening last year was the divorce of my son. It devastated him, and the children, but life goes on.

New years  come, and old years go

Those who were here had to go

Leaving memories sad behind

No tears can bring them back beside

Seeing my son’s heartbreak was a pain

Why did it happen was his agonized refrain 

There weren’t easy answers he could gain

His life got changed, nothing was the same

Life is fickle, life is short

In a moment all get lost

Gather joyful moments to your heart

In life’s journey they will last

(Sheen-January 2017)



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Don’t wait for me I won’t be home

Have lost my way on the trek home

Have to go elsewhere on a journey far away

You can’t see me for a time unknown

Had longed to be back fate did intervene

Changed my route to a new way shown

My footsteps falter as I stumble on the trip

None to hold me close, have to travel alone





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My son S, and I were on our way to Houston from Charlottesville. We were traveling in a hired truck which contained my furniture, and household items. This was the second day of our journey. We had started at nine in the morning from the hotel where we had stayed the night. It was the last Friday in the month of Ramadan known as Jumatul Wida. S is very particular about Salat (prayers), and it was time for the Zuhr Prayers.

He exited the highway to enter a city road. Finding a place to park he found out a nearby mosque on the map. It was a new place for us, and it took some time to find one in the area. He found an end road to park our truck. It took some manoeuvering on his part to park it.

We got down. Many cars were already parked near a single story building. I thought it was the mosque. It turned out I was wrong. It was a long hike uphill. The sun blazed overhead. You can imagine how the temperature sizzles in June. We went up and up. I was perspiring badly. I was tired with the traveling we had done, and my legs ached. The road climb was steep. I hauled myself with determination to the top.

At the top, the women’s entrance to the mosque was at the other end. I got there, and looked here and there for a restroom before getting ready to say my salat. My fate that day wasn’t in working order. I had to go all the way back to get to a restroom.

By the time I managed again to enter the prayer hall from the women’s entrance the salat with the congregation was over. S rang me to come out, but I couldn’t answer as I was saying my prayers. As soon as I finished, a woman tapped me on the shoulder saying my name, telling me S was waiting outside. I was surprised, how did she know who I was?

S had got worried while waiting for me, and had given my name, and description. After coming downhill, we got into the truck. We weren’t fasting because we were traveling, so we looked for a place to get a midday meal. Finished with eating we got on the highway to resume our journey.


Sep 19, 2016



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I am on a journey

A journey through life

Some places are desolate filled with pain

Some filled with joy, laughter and gain

Future I don’t know, what’s there ahead

Days full of sunshine all beautifully spread

Hope does encircle me in how far I have to go

How near is the end, I don’t have to know





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Your Days Are Numbered

I am stressed. It always happen to me when I am going on a journey. My stomach goes haywire. I have not slept well for the past one week. Today I am leaving for Peshawar. I have finally managed to pack my things. Insha’Allah I will be back in a few months.

Lala (my elder brother) is having prostrate surgery. I am worried about him because he is diabetic, and isn’t keeping good health. Similarly my two brother in laws are sick too. The younger one forgets things. He has forgotten that his elder brother (my late husband) is not alive, and he was present to see him buried in the village. He takes daily trips from the village to our home in Peshawar to see his brother. He stays outside at the gates of our home wondering when his brother will call him inside.

The unscrupulous drivers of taxis who bring him daily to the city are making money. They forget that one day they are going to meet God. I have to face a lot of things hoping everything will turn out all right.

I won’t be writing for the next two or three days depending upon getting the Internet once I reach home. Bye.

Your Days are Numbered

What’s the date today? Write it down, remove all dashes and slashes, and write a post that mentions that number.


Life of Sheen

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