Tag Archives: Riyadh

All About Me

My father named me two names. My blog’s name is its translation into English. Flower is the second part of my name. Gul means “flower”. Breezes is the first part of my name. The Pustho name means “the early morning breeze”. That’s how my blog’s name came into existence.

I was visiting Riyadh, where my daughter is located. It was nearly four months after my husband died. She wanted me to start a blog. Mainly she wanted me occupied with something now that I was on my own.

I was telling her that I had forgotten English, how was I going to write anything?

Up till my husband’s dying, my life existed all around him. If I was going somewhere, he had to be there too. He wanted all my attention entirely focused on him. He couldn’t function without me. Suddenly, he was no longer there, and it seemed time hung on my hands.

My daughter wanted a part of me when I am gone. She wanted to hold onto some thing concrete. When people die, you wonder whether they were actually here in this world. A person, who is living, and breathing becomes a memory only. A time comes when memory starts fading. And the person you loved most, fades away too, and is lost in time.

Writing is the only thing which is left till eternity for all to see. My blog is my footsteps in time.

All About Me

Explain why you chose your blog’s title and what it means to you.

Something Strange

Foremost is my daughter, who lives in Riyadh.  We spend one hour on telephone daily with each other. There is so much to share. I feel lost if I don’t talk to her.

Second comes my sister, who lives in Long Island. We talk almost daily with each other. When I was back in my home country I got more news from her about our relatives which I didn’t know, but she knew, while sitting in NY. Uncanny! Isn’t it?

Third one is my son. Although the truth is, I have to prod him with questions to elicit response. Through him I get a dose of daily news while we have our night walk.

Back home I had two people with home I had daily talks. One was my husband’s brother’s wife Shahida, and the other one was Shaheen, my cousin’s wife.

One other thing I have found is: if a woman’s name is Shahida, she is likely to be friends with me. I have at least five women friends having the same name. Isn’t this strange?


Daily Prompt: Circle of Five

A writer once said, “You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with.” If this is true, which five people would you like to spend your time with?


Now that you’ve got some blogging experience under your belt, re-write your very first post.

M͟Y͟ F͟I͟R͟S͟T͟ P͟O͟S͟T͟

FEBRUARY 24, 2013
This is my first blog so I will begin with myself. I am a mother of two kids. I am currently on a visit to Riyadh and staying with my daughter. I love it here. I like the Arabs. People around the world are so misguided about them. I like the way they dress irrespective of whether they are rich or poor. The women are in abayas and have their faces covered. I wish I could do the same. I will continue with the abaya when I go back to my country, insha’Allah. I am used to wearing a chador partly hiding my face but I have found that wearing an abaya covers you more. Plus, an abaya leaves your hands free and you are not fiddling all the time trying to cover yourself properly. I am trying to learn Arabic. It is simply beautiful. My teacher with whom I study the Quran in-depth once said, “It’s the language of Jannah”. Here is a picture of where I am staying.

A͟ R͟E͟ W͟R͟I͟T͟E͟

I am finding it difficult to re-write what I wrote a year, and a a half ago. When I wrote my first post I had no experience with writing. It was so exciting to attempt my first write.

I can’t write the same thing all over again. The only thing I can do is to add a bit more to it.

It was my third visit to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia (KSA). On the last two visits my husband R had accompanied me. Sadly he was no longer alive, and now through out life I had to navigate my journeys alone.

I had gone to Riyadh for a two week visit, but my daughter made me extend it to two months. My visit was about to get over, when Nola (my daughter) introduced me to the idea of blogging.

If I can go back in time I will forego telling one, or two people about my blog. The only thing I can do is to start a new one with a new name, so those I was foolish enough to tell, won’t be able to read me.

I started wearing the abaya after I came home to Peshawar. I felt very comfy in it. It made me feel safe when I had to do all the outside jobs R did for me. I wore the abaya standing in line to board the flight to Houston from Qatar, prompting the airport officials to tell me that maybe I was standing in a wrong line.

I had to stop wearing the abaya, when it became apparent that I was thought off as a security risk, while flying from one city to another here. It doesn’t get through some thick skulls, that a person bent on mischief won’t stand out in dressing. He or she will try to conform what the majority wears.

I will again start wearing it once I am back in my home country.

I am still learning Arabic one word a day, and has not progressed very far in it; cause the books I bought (to learn it), from Jarir book shop in Riyadh, are lying back home.

One big omission was taking photographs in, and around Riyadh. This time, if I go, I will keep on taking photos of all the lovely mosques, and fantastic buildings I saw there. Riyadh looks marvelous at night time with lighting.


One Day of my Life

Trio No. 3
by Ben Huberman
Today you can write about anything, in whatever genre or form, but your post must mention a dark night, your fridge, and tears (of joy or sadness; your call). Feel free to switch one ingredient if you have to (or revisit one from previous trio prompts).


I was tired, and covered with dust, and grime. I had worked at cleaning my place the whole day. I had reached home from Riyadh, after two months. Lala (my elder brother) had come to fetch me from the airport.

After sitting in his car, I requested him to take me to the CSD Complex first before taking me home. I needed to stock up on eatables like milk, eggs, chickens, bread, vegetables — everything necessary to start my kitchen once again. The shopping done, Lala dropped me home, leaving me in the driveway with my bags and groceries.

Making my home habitable took the remaining part of the day. It was night now. I badly needed a shower to clean myself from the dust which had settled down in my hair, and on my face.

I turned on the tap. There was a minute trickle of water. I realized that the water tank must be empty. We had used up all the water to do the cleaning. Noman (servant) must have forgotten to turn on the machine to fill the water tank. I was really mad at his forgetfulness. I couldn’t ring the bell for him, knowing once he went off to sleep, you couldn’t wake him up. My (late) husband used to go, and bang his door, when he won’t answer, but for me it wasn’t appropriate.

Shedding tears of frustration, I went to the kitchen to retrieve two bottles of water from the fridge. They were cold, but I needed to wash my hands, and for the ablution before saying my Isha Prayers.

You can imagine how awful I felt with making do with so little water.
Everything clean except for me.


The Litmus Test

Daily Prompt: Litmus, Litmus on the Wall
If you had to come up with one question, the answer to which would determine whether or not you could be friends with a person you’ve just met, what would it be? What would the right answer be?

Last year in January, I was on a visit to my daughter Nola in Riyadh. We were invited to dinner at a neighbor’s house. I didn’t feel like going, but Nola insisted on my going.

M3 (grand daughter) was carrying a Pumpkin Pie to the neighbor’s home for dessert. Some guests had arrived before us, and others were coming. One guest was accompanied by her mother. We were introduced to each other, and sat together. She was very elegantly dressed in a sari. By her look she must have been 10-15 years my senior in years.

In a few minutes she made me uneasy with her talking, and behavior. Since she lived in the same neighborhood, I tried my best at avoiding further encounters with her.

Behavior counts!


An Answer to Prayers

Daily Prompt: Tunnel Vision
You’ve been given the ability to build a magical tunnel that will quickly and secretly connect your home with the location of your choice — anywhere on Earth. Where’s the other end of your tunnel?

I would be requiring not one, but two tunnels. One to my daughter’s home in Riyadh, and the other one to my my son’s home here in Houston. I will be able to live in Peshawar in my own home. Whenever I feel like visiting one of my children, I will enter the magic tunnel, and whoosh —- I will be siting with one of them.

I won’t be needing passport, visas, air tickets, and the endless traveling. It’s so tiring. My passport still had a year to go, but I renewed my passport here in Houston. It was easier. I didn’t have to go personally to the passport office here. I got a new passport in two weeks time without any hassle.

If I had gone for a passport renewal in Peshawar, it would have taken months despite a hefty urgent fee. The place would have been teeming with men, and a lone woman (like me) would have faced insurmountable difficulties.

Come to think of it, I can utilize a magic tunnel for other purposes: when I need to visit an office for tax, driving license renewal, I phone my brother to come with me. I have to go early to fetch him. It takes an hour. Another hour to come back. After the mission is accomplished, I take him back. Another hour spent, and then back to home. Again another hour. I dread going alone in a sea of men where I stand out like a sore thumb.

Having a magic tunnel to anywhere will be a mercy for me.


Blog Tour


I was asked by Vee dC to participate. Please do visit her at:

I have to answer four questions.

1. What am I working on at the moment?

I am not working on anything specific at the moment. There are plans to write a book. When do I start in earnest? No idea.
Please don’t be disappointed with my answer. A book requires great dedication. Mine is nowhere in sight. I am facing health issues, and trying to deal with them.

2. How does my work differ from others (of its genre)?

I write both poetry and prose. My blog give glimpses into my own life (past, present). It’s life of SheenMeem.
Mine are lighthearted ramblings (forgive me for the sadness which occurs when I write poetry). It’s all about what happened in my past, and how I dealt with what I faced, and my present life.
This way my readers can get ideas, if they are in the same situation.

3. Why do I write what I do?

Actually my daughter pushed me into writing my blog. I wouldn’t have started if she had not literally stood on my head. My grand daughters M2 and M3 were fascinated with the stories of my life. They would come into my room, and would ask questions.

I had gone in January 2013 to Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. It was going to be a two week stay, but my daughter made me extend it to two months. Meanwhile my daughter was onto me for starting a blog, so finally I took the plunge at the end of February 2013.

Now I am hooked. When the rest of me is gone, hopefully a part of me will still be here in writing.

4. How does my writing process work?

The early morning does help in writing. Why?
Probably I am rested enough to formulate anything in writing. I have found out if there is noise, or someone is talking in the background, I lose my connection to thoughts. I can’t concentrate, and my mind goes blank.

Next week on 9th June the same questions will be answered by Daniel and Sajeev. Both of them gallantly accepted my request. Many thanks to them.
Their blogs are:
The Hampstead Man: http://dljordanwriting.wordpress.com

My Kaleidoscope: http://sajeevkmenon.wordpress.com

Thanks once again.


Three in a Row

Daily Prompt: A Tale of Two Cities
If you could split your time evenly between two places, and two places only, which would these be?

The prompt calls for two cities only, but I can’t. It has to be a tale of three cities.

I have to divide my time between three cities, Sugar Land, Riyadh and Peshawar. In the first two cities abide my children, and in Peshawar lies my own home.

Sugar Land is a suburb of Houston.

Houston, Texas, USA.

Sugarland, Houston, Texas.

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.

Peshawar, Pakistan.

Peshawar, Riyadh and Sugarland
Three in a row it has to be
Symbolize home, daughter and son
All of them are important to me
I can’t let go one of them
They are my past, future and me

Three in a Row

The First Blog

How do you feel about the first blog post you ever wrote?
What do you want for your blog?

The first blog post I wrote was, “Beginning.” The date was 24th Feb 2013. It was a great discovery to a virtual world, I never knew existed. It was a new beginning, so I named it such. I was on a visit to Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. I had initially gone there for two weeks but stayed on the insistence of my daughter for two months.
Here is a picture of where I stayed.


After the death of my husband in August 2012, I was on my own. I was alone and time stood on my hands. So when I visited Nola, she suggested to me to write a blog. I laughed at first at the mere notion of it. Nola was serious. She convinced me gradually, so that’s how I started.

The first thing was the Blog’s name. Flowers is taken from my middle name and Breezes from my first name. Flowersandbreezes was born. My fictitious name Sheenmeem is taken from the first and last letter of my name.

I am trying to improve my writing skills. It is a gradual process. I would like to write fictitious stories in the future. Up till now I have only written three stories. After that may be I write a serial one on a weekly base. At the moment I don’t want to think ahead. I live my life from day to day.

Related: https://flowersandbreezes.wordpress.com/2013/09/02/name-that-you/



The First Blog

Missing Slippers

I was mystified as to how I had a cut on my slippers. They were looking old too, and torn. As to how in God’s Name I managed to do that? I did ask myself. Luckily I had another pair. Got the new ones out for using. After a few days I noticed the slippers changed their shapes. My feet are wide and the slippers were narrow. Oh God! I must be getting Kidneys’ infection. They may have got swollen, that was my first thought as I peered at my feet (being myopic) a little anxiously. They looked as they had looked before. No change, I ascertained to my relief, but the slippers were not the ones I had purchased. Though they were the same color.

And then I found out. My very precious granddaughters M1, M2, M3 (they were on a visit) without looking at the slippers would plop their feet into them and would use them around the house. They would be visiting their other set of grandparents and leaving mine there or theirs’ here became a routine thing at our home. I took to guarding my slippers like a zealot when my granddaughters were around.

Same thing happened this January when I visited my daughter in Riyadh. We went for Umra (short pilgrimage) to Mecca and Madinah. During night when I needed to go to the bathroom the slippers would be missing. They wouldn’t be where they were supposed to be, beside my bed. I was sharing the hotel room, GUESS with WHOM? You guessed correctly, the three Ms’. Same was the case when we went out. When we came back I would be searching here and there for a while till I found my erstwhile slippers.

God help me! I will be sharing their room when I go to New York this time. Any suggestions? 😕

Photo Courtesy of Shutterstock