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Showing posts with label interfaithspeakemikeghouse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label interfaithspeakemikeghouse. Show all posts

Friday, June 17, 2011

Happy Fathers day, a tribute to my pluralist father Abdul Rahman

Published at Huffngton Post http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mike-ghouse/pluralist-father_b_879528.html
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Life is all about expressions and completing transactions. Every emotion, thought, action or a change creates a new debt or a favor that needs to be re-balanced. Obviously we cannot reciprocate the favors in full, but we have been able to do that with a thank you in the most simplistic way or ratcheting up with complications.
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One of the incomplete transactions of my life was not being able to do the things I wanted to do for my father. As a kid I would step in and take over the work from him so he can take rest, an Indian tradition that I cherish. When I moved to Saudi Arabia on an assignment, I sent my first check to him with which he started paying off my loan. With the next check I asked him to buy clothes for the family and wanted him to replace his old black Jacket he wore forever with a new one. He said no, first things first. In the first week of December 1977 my check paid off all my loans, and with the next check I asked him to oblige me. Man, I am feeling a deluge of emotions as I am writing this, darn, my eyes are welled up.
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He did not get the check, he just had to live his words, "Until my last breath, I will be earning my living and take care of my family." Darn it, he did it. I was angry for my helplessness, and was happy that the man kept his word. But that created a huge gap in my life and I continue to recover my balance by serving the senior friends in whatever little way I can. You can always count on me to drop everything off to attend to a senior's request.
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Talking about keeping one's word; in the late sixties he decided to go back to till his father's land abandoned some forty years ago, when the whole family died in the influenza that had killed millions around the world. He sold a thriving property we had and sunk the money in the farm and I was on it for six months. He gave his word to someone to sell for quick cash and told us about it in the evening, three of his friends descended at our house with three times the money, my father refused; he said no, I have given my word to that man. My mother and I were angry; he said he would rather lose the money than his word. I did not value it then, but when I left home, it all meant so much to me and yes, I have lost quite a lot for that, then I realized no one will take the wealth with them either.
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My father is my hero and opened the doors of wisdom to us. Pluralism indeed runs in my family. He taught one of the biggest lessons of my life in social cohesiveness and dealing with extremism that I continue to reflect in my talks, acts and write ups.
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During the communal riots in Jabalpur (India) in the early sixties, both Muslims and Hindus were killed in the mayhem. I wish every father in India, America and elsewhere teaches this lesson to his kids. He was crystal clear on his take; He told us the "individuals" are responsible for the bloodshed and not the religions; he would emphasize that you cannot blame the intangible religion and expect justice, we must blame the individuals who caused it and punish them accordingly for disturbing the peace and thus bring a resolution to the conflict by serving justice. He said you cannot annihilate, kill, hang or beat the religion, then why bark at it?
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My father was a Mayor of the Town of Yelahanka (The town gave birth to Bangalore in 1537) and served the council for many years. He was also the president of the Islamic Association of the town. We grew up with no barriers between us and another soul. He broke all traditions of the society; during the early sixties India was pretty much like the US in the way she treated her "Harijan - God's chosen people as Mahatma Gandhi termed the "untouchables". The African Americans endured such treatment here. My father would invite them in our home and my mother would serve tea and food in the same glasses and plates that we drank and ate. It was a big no no at that time, some boycotted coming to our house and many people opposed him with unsavory words, but my father stood his ground. I see that streak in me playing it out all the times. Thank you Dad for inculcating the value of treating every human with full dignity, that is just one of the thousands of things you blessed me with. I love to see all of God's creation treated fairly and justly.
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He treated all of us kids with dignity and I am pleased I got to be disciplined at least once. I guess I replicated that with my children to the point my kids would actually say, Dad, you should have disciplined us. I did not see the need for it. I am fine and they are fine too. I gave them the cold shoulder that my father had given me to straigthen me out, and it worked both ways, athough my daughter was a tough cookie, she would not budge.
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I was about ten years old and watched a man fall off his bicycle with his big bag of rice and was struggling to get back on it, and I wasn't going to help the man. I saw my father about 100 feet away and the way he sped towards me got me frightened for the first time, I dashed inside the home and a few minutes later after helping the guy he was in… I climbed on top of the paddy bags in a corner of the house, I thought he could not get me there, so he goes outside and plucks a long branch off the mulberry tree and gives me a few good ones. "My son will never do that" after that conditioning, I have developed the habit of stopping for everyone who needs help. I dare not watch and not do something about it.
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On this day, I thank Dadsky Everett Blauvelt who was the reason for me to be here in Dallas, he and I worked together in Saudi Arabia some 35 years ago. Also want to express my gratitude to my friend Davendra Dev Maini who is a fatherly figure to me as well and my two senior friends whom I admire; Dr. Harbans Lal and Rev. Bill Matthews, all of them have great attitudes and affection for humanity and I love them.
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To those who have not had a father or had a negative experience, God has offered guidance through the instrument of forgiveness to release you from the pain. Just do it. I will be happy to be a big brother or even a father for the moment of your need. It's an open offer to call me at (214) 325-1916.
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God bless us all, Amen!
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Mike Ghouse is committed to building a cohesive America and offers pluralistic solutions on issues of the day. He is a speaker, thinker, writer and a frequent guest on Hannity show and nationally syndicated Radio shows and Dallas TV, Radio and Print Media. Over 1000 articles have been published on Pluralism, Interfaith, Islam, India and cohesive societies. Two of his books are poised to be released this fall on Pluralism and Islam. His work is encapsulated in 27 blogs, four websites and several forums indexed at http://www.mikeghouse.net/.

Sunday, May 29, 2011

Urdu | Memorial Day

The following video documentary on Handwritten Urdu Newspaper in Chennai is simply mesmerizing! The only handwritten Newspaper in the world! And today is Memorial day, a day dedicated to honor the loved ones who are no more.  I am dedicating this write up to Najma, my late wife on this Memorial Day.

I love writing Urdu and there is not a day that I don't scribble something or the other in Urdu. It was a good feeling to see this down-to-the-earth documentary. It was a pleasure to hear about the prevalent secular ethos in that news paper office.

In the early sixties we had three Urdu Newspapers in Bangalore; Pasban, Jumhoor, Azad and Salaar, there are many more now and I forgot the weekend news papers we had.  

I hope you’d love this video:

http://gizmodo.com/5804614/this-is-the-last-handwritten-newspaper

Indeed, I am infatuated with Urdu, interestingly it was Urdu that had pulled me towards my late wife Najma at a Mushaira in Richardson after which she had joined me on my TV and Radio shows as a co-host and a year later we married. She was superb in her diction and choice of words, people loved to hear her out on the radio; I would pull the car over and listen to her whole program. I can never forget Farida Jalal yielding her portion of emceeing to Najma in a Bollywood show, Lata Mangeshkar was enthralled and said "Najmaji aap ki awaaz bahut hi sunder hai aur aap bahut achchi Urdu bolti hain".

I am dedicating this write up to Najma to honor her memories on this memorial day.

About the Pluralism and Secularism in India, which I am a product of, I found those attitudes across the board. Even last year when I was in Bangalore and addressed the Muslim leadership gathering, the tone was same; co-existence and pluralism drawn from Islam and Hinduism at works.

I am pleased to quote my mother on this topic that I wrote on Mother’s day, "She was a pluralist. My youngest brother Farooq runs a real estate business in  Bangalore, and his manager had hung the picture of Lord Krishna in the office; he asked my Mother about it, she was blunt, "do you have your religious symbols hung on the wall? He said, yes, and she said, let him have his. Dear Mother, I salute you and I am going to brag about you." article at http://theghousediary.blogspot.com/2011/05/mother-my-story-happy-mothers-day.html

I did not realize how much of Urdu runs through my veins, however I am yet to  give expression to it. I was writing to my mother until she was alive and kept writing  to my sister when she was in Rae Barielly and Secunderabad with my brother in Law who served in the Indian Army. However I used to write “Afsanay” short stories in Urdu and have written several Nazams and Ghazals in the  past, and have written a few Rubayee’s lately on Pluralism and social cohesion, they sound just like my mentor Sahir Ludhianavi. My sister writes for Salaar in Urdu and she has agreed to translate my work in Urdu for publication in Bangalore, my home town.

When I became single, I was looking for someone who does not have barriers between her and another human being. Religion, Race or Ethnicity was never an issue to me, so I talked with so many from literally every possible background …and I was joyous to know so many women from Muslim, Hindu, Parsee, Jain, Christian, Jewish, Sikh, Buddhist and different backgrounds were equally open about religion, race or ethnicity.  Most of them had described themselves as spiritual not religious.  

Then I realized, it wont’ be fair to her that I want to go to the Mushaera and she  will not enjoy it.  Grudgingly, I  was willing to miss seeing a woman in Saree or Shalwar Qamees, but Urdu was another thing. I see many of my friends in that boat here in Dallas and other cities, where the guys or the girls have to go-it-alone as their spouse does not speak Urdu. They cannot even enjoy listening to the songs without a timer for “my turn”. 

Thank God, I finally met Yasmeen, who was everything I was looking in a life partner and darn, she spoke Urdu!  God willing, we hope to host a few poetry sessions in Urdu and Hindi  next year. I’d rather attend the Public Mushaera when politics is cut out. We attended one in Louisville and it was fabulous. I had written a poem on Social cohesion and it was a cross between Iqbal and Sahir… I abandoned it, as I do not want to sound like I have copied them. Temptations to write it out again comes to my mind repeatedly, but I will be knowingly manipulating it not to sound like Sahir, then it will not be genuine poetry. Well, I will have to write another one and stop reading Iqbal and Sahir.

Happy Urdu and Reminiscent Memorial day
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Mike Ghouse is a speaker, thinker, futurist and a writer on the topics of Pluralism, Coexistence, interfaith, Islam, India and cohesive societies. He is committed to building cohesive America and offers pluralistic solutions on issues of the day.  His work is indexed at http://www.mikeghouse.net/ 

Note to Desis – you do not wish a Happy Memorial day; it is a day of remembrance and not rejoice.