A bittersweet meethi Eid

This may be our last Eid in our own home in Karachi for a long time. I don't quite know how I feel about it. I don't do Ramzan (abstinence not being my thing), but I can't seem to ignore its existence completely try as I may, so Eid always comes as a relief. I loved Eid as a child, especially the ones in Pakistan. I love all the rituals of Eid- the planning of the joras, chaand raat, the preparation of holiday treats, eidi envelopes, even the nonsensical and chaotic shenanigans of the Ruet-e-Hilal committee...


Over the years R and I have made our own Eid rituals. Occasionally we have a chaand raat party for our friends and kids' friends- mehndi, chooris, phuljharis, and good old Hanif Rajput catering- a couple of nights before Eid. The actual eve of Eid is far too busy, Eid being one of the few times in the year when all our help is off. As soon as the gunfire erupts (I haven't ever understood our desi penchant for celebratory violence) we know tomorrow will be Eid and it is time to get the haleem pot out. I don't know if haleem is traditionally an Eid dish, but we've always made it because it's something we love and don't usually get around to making and because it's convenient to have lying around over Eid. I love my haleem pot- it is positively gargantuan, reminiscent of the magic porridge pot of fairy tale, it is earthenware and it is blue <3.

Haleem pot

The lavazmaat

Ready to eat :)

I love cooking haleem; the six hours or so that it slowly simmers helps while away the last roza and I love the gentle work of slicing onions, coriander, chillies, and lemons. This year R and I are off to Turkey the day after Eid, so figure we may as well open the last roza with haleem. This year is different in a couple of other respects too- first the gunfire actually hits our cable connection, so there goes the TV and internet, and then Rahman Malik, in his infinite wisdom decides that shutting off mobile phone connections may be a good way to prevent terrorist attacks. The result is chaos as no one knows the timings for eid prayers, and there is a scramble for long-lost phone books while we track down people's landline numbers to coordinate.

Not everyone is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at 7:00 am

The ingredients

Eid morning is a rush getting the boys up and into their white shalwar kurtas in time for the 7:30 am Eid namaz. While the boys are gone, I get to work on the sevaiyan. I love the smell of sevaiyan cooking on eid morning-  the sweet cardamom-infused milk, the silky strands of vermicelli, the freshly toasted almonds and pistachios...

Eid breakfast

Once the sevaiyan are ready, I start on the chicken liver- again not traditionally an Eid thing, but one of our rituals. Normally during the year R and I have breakfast together after the school run and before he goes off to work- during Ramzan I miss our breakfasts and therefore the first breakfast after Ramzan needs to be a bit of a production. We only ever have this breakfast once a year- chicken livers marinated in garlic, methi, ajwain, crushed red chillies, coriander seeds, salt and pepper and then lightly sauteed and served with fresh coriander and lime on wholegrain toast, washed down with freshly squeezed grapefruit juice and super strong black coffee.


I've barely finished putting everything out on the breakfast table when the boys are back from the masjid with their giant balloons- apparently there is a balloon-wallah outside the mosque every Eid (a good incentive for the boys to get to namaz). Soon we'll dress to go to Nani's for Eid lunch, but while I drink my coffee I wonder what our next eid- or Seker Bayram- will be like. What rituals will we keep and which new ones will we acquire?

The boy with the blue balloon

I know I will take my haleem pot with me, but there are some things I'm happy to leave behind. The last few days of Ramzan have been marred by the killings of Shias in the north of the country and even in Karachi. The incident in the north is particularly chilling- when the passengers in the bus refused to identify which of their fellow travelers were Shia the attackers demanded people's ID cards and shot those whose names appeared to be Shia. In the past R has often taken the children to the local Imambargah for Eid namaz, where even Iman is welcomed, unlike at our local mosque, but now he doesn't, aware of my unspoken fears.

My friend Romina writes this greeting on her Facebook page


"Eid Mubarik to all
May this be peaceful,
May us as a nation be forgiven for the excesses we have apathetically allowed and let tolerance and reason reign"

And it is true. We have stood by and done nothing when Pakistani Christians have been persecuted under the blasphemy laws, we have allowed Pakistani Ahmedis to be branded non-Muslims and murdered in their places of worship, we have watched Pakistani Hindus slowly crossing the border to avoid forced conversions, and now we silently allow the brutal murder of Pakistani Shias. I hope it isn't too late for us for tolerance and reason, but I suspect a day may come when my husband and children are no longer welcome or safe in my country. One of my grandfathers spoke at the Lahore Resolution and fought with the Quaid for the creation of Pakistan, my other grandfather served to protect this country's borders; my father has spent over forty years serving Pakistan at home and abroad- but the Pakistan they stood for is fast becoming a chimera.

The little things that make a home

We have been discussing this move to Istanbul for over a year now. So when the final decision was made I thought myself well-prepared. Much though I love Karachi, after nineteen years I think I'm ready for a change.

I am used to moving around- as kids we moved a lot- and very often on shorter notice than we have now. Even during our fifteen years of married life we have moved houses often- all three of our kids were "born" in a different house (they were born in hospitals but you know what I mean). Five years ago we decided to finally buy a house and stop moving and in these last few years we made 4 B-2 our home. This was truly home- the only home all three of our kids have known.

It has taken time to make a garden- trying to make it look old and well-established as quickly as possible, and it has taken even longer to get the interiors right. Our home has always been a work-in-process. We love change and since we tend not to be very expensive things, preferring the used to the new, we have often edited our interior spaces. But for the first time in fifteen years we know our next home will be smaller and there are many things we will not be able to take with us. Storage is an option, but somehow it feels wrong. After all we acquired many of these things from other people- and have enjoyed the fact that they came well-loved, with stories to tell. It seems cruel to shut them up.

So, often with great reluctance and a tug at the heart, I made a list of things that had to go. We are having an open house this Friday- letting our friends come and pick out things that they like. I hope these chairs and tables, cabinets and dressers find good homes, and that they continue to give joy to their new owners. Here I'd like to say goodbye to a few favorites.

The "altar"

This is the first thing you see when you enter my house. A Buddha head sits on top with diyas and bowls of flowers. The two side drawers house incense, candles and matches. Th cupboard has a basket or rolled cotton wicks for divas and a big tin of coconut oil to burn. When I first "met" this piece it had been painted blue and had a trunk sitting on top of it. Apparently it was a linen cupboard of sorts in a Memon house. The trunk stored quilts and the cupboard sheets. I acquired both, but trunk and cabinet have always led separate lives in my house, and now the trunk will go to Istanbul while I hope my "altar" cabinet brings peace to its next home too!

The garden bench

This is an old-fashioned garden bench (i.e it weighs a ton) with lovely scrolly iron ends and teak slats and big fat nails holding it together. It really is comfortable to sit on and ever since the foliage has been allowed to grow around it, it seems more a part of the landscape than a piece of furniture. I bought it over a decade ago because it reminded me of park benches in the Parc Monceau in Paris. 

The cane daybed

When I first saw this piece we lived in a smaller house and I worried about where it would fit in, but I knew I wanted it, it is elegantly old-fashioned and yet so contemporary. I love caned furniture- I find the lack of upholstery perfect for hot, humid Karachi- and for a husband allergic to dust mites! Since we moved into this house the daybed has lived in my room and I have spent many afternoons lying reading on it- am so glad it is going to another great reader!

The hallway bench

I can't even remember how long I've had his bench. I first fell in love with the lovely old tile inset. It is quite an unusual design- the turquoise and celadon combination. The bench is delightfully sturdy and over the years has born the brunt of ever heavier school bags. This is where everything is dumped as we enter the house and now, having already agreed to sell it, am beginning to have second thoughts!

The squashy sofa

Can you tell how well-loved this sofa has been? It is one of a pair that sit opposite each other in our study- the most used room in our house. The pair started off their lives in my parents' home- they commissioned them and if I remember well they were covered in the most wonderful elephant bedecked fabric. When my parents moved to Rome for a few years I made very free with their things back home and shamelessly helped myself to these sofas. I re-upholstered them and still remember my mother disagreeing with my choice of fabric- saying it would be filthy in a week. The fabric has stood up rather well to the test of time and multiple grubby children with cheetos-coloured fingers!

Thanks for dropping by, and leave a comment if you have similar attachments to your furniture :) And come by the Open House on Friday!

Our Big News!

Home?
(Picture of Istanbul from the NASA Earth Observatory)

Things have been brewing around here...we have truly big news. After a year of dilly dallying, weighing pros and cons, waiting for the right circumstances, we have finally decided to move! Yes, we are moving to Istanbul.










I have been to Istanbul a couple of times before and love the city. I am a huge fan of Orhan Pamuk and read and re-read his Istanbul while drifting along the Bosphorus, thinking what a lovely city this would be to live in. And now it is actually happening.

Bye bye Arabian Sea, hello Bosphorus 

We got the news four days ago, and the last four days have been a whirl of school transcripts, admission forms, medical clearance forms, needs assessment questionnaires, relocation advisors...no time to actually sit down and think through what we're really doing. The pressure is on, schools start in Istanbul on September 3 and that is determining our moving schedule. What am I feeling? Excited? Yes. Nervous? Extremely. Anxious, euphoric, nostalgic...the emotions ricochet around inside me, kept in check only by armloads of checklists.

R and I have been married 15 years. We have lived in Karachi all our married life. Our three children were born here. We have built a home, a family, a life here. And now we're going to start from scratch (except the children part clearly!) and it is overwhelming. But mostly, lurking in the back of my mind is the knowledge that I will be saying goodbye to my beloved city, the city of my childhood, my Karachi and I don't know if I know how to do that.

No words...

R's employers are planning a welcome tour for us in Istanbul. What I need is a farewell tour of Karachi. What would be the last things I'd want to eat, see, experience before I left? It is time to start making another checklist.


This blog will continue by the shores of another sea. Please keep visiting and commenting! What would you do on your last day in Karachi?

Mellow mornings

The morning ritual ;)

The best thing about the kids being back to school are my newly rediscovered mornings. I have never been a morning person and it has been ridiculously easy to slip into waking closer to noon than to dawn over the holidays. However, after almost ten years of sending kids to school, I have begrudgingly reconciled myself to the 6:30 am alarm during the school year.

More often than not, R takes the kids to school and I quickly return to my deliciously cool Frette sheets- but as a concession to Ramazan I do the school run as I don't fast. And I must admit I have come to love the moment when I go around opening windows and doors, letting the early morning cool in and disturbing whole flocks of cheerful little songbirds. Mornings, especially monsoon mornings, are stunningly beautiful in Karachi. The sky is a wonderful steely grey, the leaves of the giant neem rustle in the breeze and the air is fragrant with newly-bloomed passion flowers.

The daily schedule keeper

Even the school run is fun- little Hatim is often at his cheeriest and most loquacious early in the day and it's a good time to make plans for the whole day- organize various activities and play-dates and catch up on the school gossip. On my solitary way home I am kept entertained by the lovely Khalid of City FM 89's Breakfast Show.

Back home, I take a leisurely stroll around the freshly-watered garden, picking a few flowers to put in various little vases and bowls around the house and checking to see if there is anything else to "harvest"- most of our fruit trees are still young, but there is an occasional offering or two, and maybe a few sprigs of herbs and a cherry tomato or two. Here are a few snaps of today's finds:

Baby zinnias in my favorite orange

Home-grown chikoos and sharifas and a fennel frond

Stephanotis vines discovered outside the boys' room

My favorite early morning coffee spot these days is the upstairs balcony; as I sit sipping my coffee and trying to read the paper, I am distracted by koels cooing and I am reminded of the Karachi mornings of my childhood. My sister and I would come down early in our uniforms and wait for the driver to come and take us to school. Our grandfather would be standing in the garden in his white kurta pajama watering the lawn with a hose pipe- doing a nifty little trick with his thumb that would make the water dance around in arcs to the joyful accompaniment of little birdies. Our grandmother would go around collecting her own shareefas, wrapping them up in newspaper to ripen safely, saving them for her beloved sons. 

Have a great weekend, and leave me a comment!

Starting over

     

Summer Smiles!

All three of my little (and not-so-little) people went back to school yesterday after 2 months of  summer.  It was a bitter-sweet moment. The younger two were positively brimming with enthusiasm; they were missing their friends and football sessions, but one look at my eldest's face was enough to stem my own enthusiasm. She starts 9th grade and each year the pressure mounts.

Summer has been a glorious mishmash of the lovely treats London has to offer (museums, parks, plays, rainy days...), the excitement of a full-on family monsoon wedding (well all the hungama minus the rain) and a final couple of weeks of complete and utter lazing about (reading at all hours, summer blockbusters, watching the Olympics on TV and no real meals). The result has been astounding- the kids seem to all have grown taller, happier and more articulate.

I have always loved the back-to-school time of year; in fact my new year resolutions tend to coincide with the new school year rather than the calendar one. Usually the resolutions have to do with always having boxes on fresh pencils on hand, adding more activities to the kids' already busy schedules, vowing to become more organized, hoping to teach them to be organized, spending more time reviewing homework with them and try to be pre-emptive (i.e. read the syllabus at the beginning of the term and not at the end) and others in a similar vein. Suffice it to say that by the end of term the day counts as a success if I didn't forget to pick a kid from school and everyone made it to bed more or less fed.

This year has been different. As the summer progressed and bed times grew later and later I realized I actually liked my children. They are curious, intelligent and very funny individuals. Somehow running around all year trying to stick to a schedule I never stopped to actually consider them and I suspect that even if I had, I wouldn't have seen them as I did this summer. I'm ashamed to admit that more often than I care to remember I have stopped them in the middle of a potentially truly interesting question to remind them to do their homework. I have seen their bright, inquisitive faces fall become sullen as I always point to the clock and the schedule.

The day before schools resumed I read a book review in the morning paper- Teach Your Children Well: Parenting for Authentic Success by Madeline Levine. The book's subtitle is Parenting for Authentic Success. According to the author we should be aiming for our children's wellbeing as opposed to pushing them to be "successful". The skills we should be honing are the ability to cope and make friends. The book is on my wish list (since there is no Kindle edition yet). But in the meantime, I do have a new year resolution: help my children have more fun.

P.S. Thirteen days to the next holiday :)