Why The World Wont End.

Everyone has been saying how their 12.12.12 has failed to be a special one. Being caught up in the hectic daily routine,  I never in my right non-superstitious mind thought my 12.12.12 will ever be or will be made special. Wonderful things that has made this day special more than its obvious date. First it was a planned meeting with a dear friend (I'm protective over his privacy, so not mentioning his name here). Three years and still counting. Great friends that comes in at the most unexpected time of life. Had dinner together, reminisced the past, laughed through out, and learnt that nothing sets distance for friendships. On the other hand, while I was on my way from work to meet le' friend, I boarded the train, and it was not a co-incidence yet to find a seat right beside this young pretty lady carrying her books from Big Bad Wolfs. That intrigued me to make an approach. Being the bookworm I am. Just as we started talking roughly on our backgrounds and the legit interest in reading, I decided to introduce her to Sukhbir's blog. This is where co-incidence kicked in. She picked up her mobile phone to note it down, and when I went saying, "You should just Google up Sukhbir Cheema." She went jaw-drop. Turned to me, "Is this the same guy from the Sri Baba Centre? Seremban?" The next thing we know, we both burst into laughter, filling the extremely quiet train that night.  The next few minutes were spent on how small the world is, how we've got to know Sukh, the magic his writing and words creates, and how we both believe he is such a beautiful soul. I've always remembered how my maternal grandmother has told me that relationships that are made in trains will live life long. Well, the world is indeed a small one. I came home that night to fill in my diary just to find myself quite suprised at how true is the fact that unexpected things always ends up in a good way. 



On a lighter note, erm, no, not really light. I've decided to brace myself  and to maintain a high level of tolerance for all these extremely dumb people, especially on Facebook  who probably was highly influenced by the movie 2012, and had been writing tons of statuses, tweets and comments on how the world is actually going to end. Oh and why? Because it just decided to rain heavily that night, and the storms just had to come to help the Mayans feel better about themselves for fooling us many of them. Here's a picture which I think sums it up to what they Mayans were really up to. Mayans, trolling since 250 AD. 

Lately, I've been travelling way too much in the train due to work. The beautiful part of it is that I get to see tons of people, all different from each other, equally unique in their own way. Besides the ones in the train, I also get to know a huge circle of people, because well, I'm brown! We're always known for having this extremely big family. Two mahjong papers wont fit enough for a family tree. Trust me on this. So yes, people. Immediate family, extended family, extended-extended family, their in laws, their grandchildren, their cousins and the list goes on and on! 

Upon meeting all these people, (which I sometimes feel all of you are imaginary people living in my head & that you don't exist for real), I came across and thought a few reasons on why I think the world will not effing end! Yet! 


1. The Mayan calendar doesn’t really end.

2. The Mayans find this hole thing amusing

3. If the so-called Planet X were headed our way, we’d know it by now.

4. Solar flares are not that big a deal.

5. Nostradamus seems to have overlooked it.

6. Hollywood is a poor predictor of doomsday scenarios. Duh!

7. Polar shift probably won’t be fatal.

8. Buttholes like this fellas are still living! I bet you, they possibly hear footsteps behind them and I'm sure its not the police, its karma catching up on them. 

9. There are still people who stereotype. The one's I always hear is either gender discrimination or either  it has to do race, religion, caste. People who does this are just bunch of humans that can never accept the fact that everyone is different from one another, and you'll just keep judging them through their life as though they had a choice to choose from, to be born into a religion and not another, or a a lower caste and not a higher. This is just pure bullshit!  

10. The last one, I think the world wont end too soon, because, just because the tiny bit of humanity, emotions, love, care, faith and respect still exists in a few of us, despite the hectic, occupied schedule of ours, there are still people who stops a minute to donate to the disabled sitting by the platform, and there are still people who actually sends out great vibes through their smile. And not to forget, endless quotes on Facebook and Twitter that keeps reminding us on how to "manage"our lives. 

Yes, the world will end someday. Maybe in fire, maybe in flood, maybe due to an exploding super volcano. Maybe at the hand of God. But it probably won’t happen in 2012. Welcome 2013 with a warm heart, and tell your heart to believe it'll just be better than the past one. Wishing everyone a blessed 2013 ahead. Happy New Year! Start planning your resolutions already! 

You Ain't Losing Your Man Card.

Emotional tears help the body get rid of toxins that we accumulate due to stress and worry.The same does not happen when tears are induced due to non-emotional reasons, such as cutting an onion, tear gas or stinging eyes. The same study also reported that women cry four times more often than men. We all know women cry more easily than men do. Women live with their emotions, while men keep them bottled up. But did you know that just as a man finds it tough to shed tears, an infant too, cannot shed tears in the first three months of its life? Men are likely to cry a few times a year, whereas most women cry at least once a month. I am reminded of what a character says in a long-forgotten novel I read years ago, “A woman needs to shed some tears and blood every month in order to stay happy.”

People are often encouraged to “have a good cry” when upset. Crying for an extended period tends to have a cathartic effect and makes you feel better. However, people who are depressed or have anxiety disorders, or even those lacking emotional insight, do not feel good after crying. It has also been found that crying is likely to have a more positive impact when conducted in the company of at least one more person rather than all alone. The support of a loved one or friend as you cry makes you feel much better.  

When a person is overwhelmingly stressed, his or her heart rate increases and the body begins to sweat. Also, crying slows the breathing and has a calming effect, thus countering the body’s negative state.

It is now far more acceptable for a man to cry than it was earlier. Youngsters consider male tears socially acceptable now but sadly, there is still a majority of people especially woman who thinks its "gay-ish" for men's to shed tears. Not at all. Personally, when a guy shed's his tears in front of me, my respect,love and care towards him increases rapidly. Why not? Woman's shed tears everywhere, every time. Men's shed their tears only before people they love dearly. I see no appropriate reason for one to disrespect a man who cries. Stop being such hypocrites & stereotypes. 

I find it totally alright for a men to cry in certain situations. Such as: 

1. The death of a loved one. There are few things more painful than the thought of separation from those dearest to our hearts.

2. The death of your beloved pet. A pet can feel like a member of the family. Whether a horse or dog, the bond between a man and his faithful animal runs deep.

3. When you first see the new life you and your wife created. Many a man has found himself choked up as they cradle their newborn son or daughter.

4. When you propose to the love of your life and she says yes. This should be one of the happiest days of your life. You found your best friend.

5. At the altar as you get married. Everyone in attendance loves to see the husband-to-be get a little misty-eyed as his blushing bride walks down the aisle.

6. When your beloved car or truck, especially your first one, gets totaled. There’s a bond between a man and his wheels that when severed, can really sting.

7. Visiting sites that pay tribute to those who laid down their lives for others. Whether running your fingers over the names at the Vietnam War Memorial or watching the oil leak from the sunk USS Arizona, contemplating the sacrifices made by your fellowman should make you tear up.

8. Describing a really spiritual experience. Feeling touched by a higher power can be really affecting.

9. As an athlete, after the final game/match/event that you will ever play in. You’ll never be in as good shape again. You’ll never experience this level of camaraderie again. You’ll never push yourself so hard every day. Go on and let it out.

Men cry mostly when a family member dies, when they watch a sad movie or TV show or when a girlfriend breaks up with them. Women cry over conflict, loss and empathy over another’s suffering. All in all, it’s OK to let it all out once in a while.

And, its never okay to cry in few other situations either. Here: 

1. When you favorite sports team loses. Devotion to your team is respectable. Turning into a blubbering mess when they lose, not so much.

2. When those around you are looking to you as a source of calmness and strength.Sometimes your loved ones need you to be a rock.

3. To the point of irrational thinking or paralysis when you have a job to do. I wanted to strangle Upham in Saving Private Ryan when he cried in the stairwell while his fellow soldier was being killed. When you have a job to do, get it together.

4. When you don’t get your way. Little boys cry when they don’t get what they want. Men are disappointed, but resilient.

5. When you’re frustrated. Crying because your overwhelmed and don’t know what to do is a cop out. You don’t have the strength to think of a solution, so you cry so you don’t have to think at all. Man up and figure out your next move.

6. In baseball. There’s no crying in baseball! 

Everybody comes out cleansed from the experience, feeling they have achieved something. Tears somehow seem to produce a general sense of well-being and bonhomie. Guys, Its alright to tear. Its alright to tear in front of your special one. Its totally alright. If there are people who under-rates your tears, you know where they belong to in your way of life. Its never a sign of weakness. Its a sign that you're human. Its a sign that you've hold it all back for a long time. Its a sign to let it go now. Its a sign of self-love. Trust me on this. 

Guys who cried or cries, you're all still sexy beasts. Worry less. 

The Little Things In Life.

Sometimes, the smallest things in life gives the biggest happiness. A list of little things I love that makes me a happy soul every now and then. 

I love nature.
I love ice cream.

I love cheese.

I love birds, fishes, butterflies, fireflies. 

I love it when my parents hug me a "Good night/ Good morning" hug. 

I love it when my grandparents have their small cute arguments.

I love it when I get to play with my grown up cousins. 

I love it when my brothers tease my younger brother. 

I love my Barney toys.

I love the sea.

I love waves.

I love my camera.

I love beaches.

I love cycling.

I love it when my friends and I share that smile when anyone's crush walks in.

I love strangers that smile.

I love it when I smile at a kid from the next car, and he/she smiles back.

I love the children from Spastic's Center.
I love the sight of a pregnant woman. 

I love taking photos.

I love sweating.

I love sitting in my balcony.

I love having direct morning sun burn my skin.

I love my quilt blanket sewed by my old Chinese neighbour.

I love sleeping on my own bed.

I love making new friends.

I love how my besties and I can still love each other despite the distance.

I love my Maths teacher.

I love my Accounts teacher.

I love both of them.

I love it that I find one of them intriguing.

I love fruits.

I love mangoes. 

I love mangosteens.

I love rambutans.

I love durians. 

I love chocolates.

I love yogurt.

I love smiling.

I love to laugh.

I love it when some one tells me how ugly is my laugh.

I love it when people laugh not because of the joke, but because of my laugh.

I love it when my guy friend compliments my hair. 

I love watching soaps. (How I Met Your Mother)

I love music.

I love rubies. 

I love swarovskis.

I love white golds. 

I love diamonds. 

I love black diamonds. 

I love antiques.

I love to feel loved.

I love to read Cecelia Ahern.

I love listening to inspirational talks on CD.

I love instrumental songs.

I love going on an unplanned travel without packing anything at all.

I love travelling alone.

I love Eid.

I love it that I think it's the most wonderful & magical time of the year.

I love the people I've met over the past 1 year.

I love home.

I love to observe.

I love to daydream.

I love to love.

I love old songs.

I love French.

I love spring.

I love the clear blue sky.

I love watching the sun set.

I love gardens and flowers.

I love castles.

I love princesses.
I love fairy tales.

I love children.

I love bald, confident women.

I love people who are beautiful from the inside out.

I love caring doctors.

I love art.

I love my eyes.

I love it that they're so imperfectly perfect.

I love imperfection.

I love the Creator.

I love mother nature.

I love listening to soundtracks.

I love to explore.

I love to take risks.

I love to help people.

I love to care.

I love to throw heavy balls in the air.

I love to eat.

I love food.

I love my mp3.

I love to talk.

I love having heart to heart talks.

I love myself.

I love all beings.

I love the stars.

I love the northern lights.

I love being around religious people.

I love the things that give me inspiration.

I love my heritage.
I love my rationality. 

I love listening to happy songs.

I love to eat happy food.

I love brisk walking.

I love to feel high.

I love to jump & dance.

I love to express.

I love flowers.

I love old things.

I love knowledge.

I love the little things in life.

Most importantly, I love the smile that I wear when any of these happens to me.

Coming Off At The Seams..

Of not being 'all that'.

Of not being able to breathe properly.
Of pain. Of illness. Of relentless damage to the psyche.
Of deadlines. Of shoddy work. Of pressure that finally gets to you. 

Of not being able to vent. Or talk. Or exchange glances.  
Of communication breaking down. 
Of watching people take off and put on masks right in front of your eyes.
Of not knowing what is right and what is grey.
Of needing. Of wanting. Of not having. Of disappointments, one after the other. 

Of saying the exact opposite of what you mean. Of not knowing how to say what you want to. 
Of wondering what you'll do when it finally happens. Of losing your best friend and soul mate, all at once.

Of being misunderstood all the time. Of being misguided all the time. Of feeling on the edge all the time.
Of being directionless.

Of watching the world go by and not wanting to join in for the first time.
Of wanting to let go. Of wondering if you'll be able to live in the shambles beyond.

Of being anti-social. Of being grumpy. Of having a temper close to the surface all the time.
Of boredom. Of cynicism. Of negativity. Of pessimism.

Of tears. Of broken dreams. Of memories of a better place.
Of wanting to go back to when things were nice amazing. 
Of wanting to feel alive and happy and unburdened again. 
Of being able to eat golguppas and hold hands again.

Of putting on a face for everyone else. Of going about like nothing is wrong.
Of hoping you see through it.  Of hoping you won't let go. Of hoping you ask me once more.
Of despair when you don't. Of feeling broken inside, all the time.

Of not being able to do what you love most. Of ignoring something that has always put a smile to your face. Of storing all the stories in your head and never putting them down.
Of losing inspiration to write. To go on. To live. 

Of uncertainty. 
Of trying and giving up. 

A Gift, So Precious.

The cold toes woke her up.

She rubbed her eyes and felt around for the comforter, smiling inadvertently when she saw him hogging it, yet again. Every single night. Every night she covered both of them together, tucked them both in and snuggled up. And every night he turned over onto his stomach and took the comforter with him.

And every morning she woke up with cold toes.

She looked at his sleeping form, overwhelmed at the feelings that suddenly welled up within her; he looked so sweet, so at peace. Just like when she first saw him.

In some time, he’d wake up. And all hell would break lose. Till then, the house, their tiny, cozy home, was silent. Serene, even.

She pulled on some socklets for the cold feet and went to the kitchen. The thin Stanford t-shirt didn’t do much to protect her warm body which broke into goose bumps as soon as the cold air hit.
Hot chocolate for two, she thought as she put the kettle on.

The misted glass on the windows always beckoned her; even as a child, she’d irresistibly be drawn to doodling on them..etching out a daisy, a cat… her name… Lindy.

… She squiggled. And her train of thought wandered to the tiny bed-n-breakfast she’d been in exactly five years back. It had been a cold December, coldest so far. Honeymoon weather? If you say so.
The glasses were misted then too. She’d doodled on them, then too.

What fun they’d had. They had never been sure of what had caused the windows to mist up; was it the cold or maybe their constant, insatiable need for each other. They made love for hours and talked non-stop the rest of the time.
It had been like a moment stolen from time, one that they’d never gotten back. It was like they crammed a whole life time into those few days.

A small sigh arose from deep inside her.
A single tear escaped. It found its way over her pink, cold cheeks and dropped off her chin into oblivion, while her thoughts resounded from the memories of the past.

The kettle whistled and she came to. As she turned the knob, she heard him wake up and wiped her eyes hastily. She poured the rich, creamy concoction into his favorite blue mug and added a generous dollop of whisked cream and the fluffy bits of marshmallow. It never failed to make him smile.

She heard him sneak up from behind. She smiled and set the mugs down lest she spill it. Almost instantly his tiny hands came around her knees; that was only as far as he could reach now.

She turned around and swept him up into her arms and kissed him sloppily on his chubby, red cheeks; his deep gurgles of joy always made her happy. One of the few things that made her happy these days.

Murad. Her pride.Her joy.The light of her life.
And the last gift Zohaib had given her.
Zohaib, her lover and husband of ten years.

Things That Are Not Love

Your salary is not love and your word is not love. Your clothes are not love and holding hands is not love. Sex is not love and a kiss is not love. Long letters are not love and a text is not love. Flowers are not love and a box of chocolates is not love. Sunsets are not love and photographs are not love. The stars are not love and a beach under the moonlight is not love. The smell of someone else on your pillow is not love and the feeling of their skin touching your skin is not love. Heart-shaped candy is not love and an overseas holiday is not love. The truth is not love and winning an argument is not love. Warm coffee isn't love and cheap cards bought from stores are not love.  Tears are not love and laughter is not love. A head on a shoulder is not love and messages written at the front of books given as gifts are not love. Apathy is not love and numbness is not love. A pain in your chest is not love and clenching your fist is not love. Rain is not love.

Only you. Only you, are love.

Her Raging Youth

The familiar scent of The red Dunhill cigarettes lingers in the air as she stood there, breathing it in passively-wifts of episodic memories refreshing itself, triggerring her amygdala to excrete a myriad of emotions as she was transported back to her youth-Her raging youth.

****

7 years ago:

She likes her balcony. A place where she gravitates to when she's at the extremes of her emotions. It was her place of personal escapism and this time round, she needed an escape from a baggage that has been weighing her down for far too long. In a swift movement, she lighted her ciggarette and rolled her eyes as she inhaled the first puff. In the 20 years she has lived, that always seemed to have triumphed any other feelings she has ever felt-the semi sweet burning sensation that wraps around her throat for a few seconds, leaving her somewhat satisfied. Calm perhaps, but happily contend in her own little bubble.

A can of redbull accompanied her otherwise solo company. She allowed herself to savour the silence of the night, gazing at the fine few stars that still miraculously appear despite having to compete with the city lights. Since it was her last stick, she took her time with the cigarette, making a mental note to get a fresh packet later on. As she put out the burning amber end, she hurried into her room to get a couple of polaroid pictures that were stuck on her wall and her journal.

She looked through the pictures-over and over again.

She scoffed inwardly at the happy smiles that was reflected upon the photographs and began scribbling in her journal with a furious rage:

17/4/2005

You know my heart sinks deeper into it's cavity when your lips meet my neck and your breath hits my skin. I become weakened and overwhelmed with it's effect to the point I find myself struggling to find air, but at the same time, not wanting it to end.

Your lips-my neck,

Your breath-my skin.

I miss you.

It's moments like this I miss you. Moments when solitude engulfs me from within and I begin to enjoy the serenity. Until of course the memories of you, pensieve, yet solid manifest itself in visions of my thoughts. Part of me craving for you non-existensial existence to enjoy the solitude with me.

My brain used to be fuzzy. It felt like every information that penetreated in seemed to be clouded by the mess accumulated in my brain. One big effing tangled mess. But somehow, those knots untangled themselves with time and I find myself somewhat liberated-not entirely free from your memories, but somewhat lighter. I need your memories, they have become integrated with me as an individual but they're no longer haunting me like before.

She paused and realised she had nothing more to fill in. She sighed deeply.

Deeply.

Giving Away The Memories

On the 17th floor of my building, lives an old man.

He does not live alone. He stays with his two grown up sons. Their wives. Their kids. It is a big family. There should not be any reason to be lonely. Or feel empty. But I think he does. Every evening when he goes for a walk, I can see it in his eyes. He is lonely and sad. And this feeling has nothing to do with his large family.
He may have a lot of people in his life but the person who matters the most, his wife, died a few months ago. And ever since, he has not been the same.

We all have different ways of coping with grief. Some cry. Some deal with it with dry eyes. Our ways may be different but we all feel this profound sadness. We all feel a deep emptiness that descends on us when we lose a loved one. This old man I know, does not keep his grief bottled up. He talks about her to people he meets in the elevator, in the park, in the grocery store. He tells us about the wonderful years he had with his wife. His helplessness towards the end of her illness. His relief when he realized she has passed away and was incapable of feeling any more pain. He talks a lot. And sympathetic neighbours, some strangers, some not, listen to this old man's ramble.

Few days back, he called me while I was walking in the park.
"Do you tie your hair?" When I said that I do, he handed me a shiny object.
"Keep this then, it will look good on you." I loosened my palm to find a rather tacky looking hair clip. And I knew. I knew instantly that he has begun the painful process of going through her stuff. Bits of items that were once precious to her. Hair clips, bags. CDs. Stuff that he will never use in his life, stuff that perhaps his daughters in law do not want. He has started handing them over to utter strangers. These things are no longer useful to him. But he cannot bear to throw them away.. So he gives them away, hoping some stranger will honor these silly items and somewhere, somehow, his wife's belongings and with them her memories, will live on.

I turned and walked back to my car. Wondering what should I do with this clip? To keep or to not? I glanced at the clip once again. I know I will never use this clip. It is neither pretty nor serviceable. Moreover, it does not even hold any sentimental value for me. What will I do with this? Perhaps I will give it away to my domestic help. Or I will give it to a street kid in need of a hair pin. I stopped for a second, and looked back once to see the old man. The very next moment, I felt tears crawling down my cheeks as I see the old man sitting on the bench outside his house, staring at the picture of his wife. That very moment I decided what I would do with the tacky hair clip.

I went home that evening, after dinner, locked myself in my room, turned my lights dim, pulled out my diary, and “told” my diary what has happened. Again, I felt tears trickling down my cheeks. As I get done with it, I decided to stick the hair clip with it. Just so that I’ll never lose it. So that I’ll remember this day in life for the time to come, I know, no matter what I do, I know the lady will live in her husband's mind. Forever.

As I got my eye lashes to meet that night, I caught a glance of the diary, lying on my study desk. Just then I thought to myself, just because you get rid of something does not mean you lose the memories.

Better-Bitter Days She Lives

As she watches the ribbons of smokes coming out,
she wonders to her self as to what her life's come to.
And that if she'll get what she wants,
more like what she deserves the best.
Maybe life has different plans for her.
And that it'll give what she thought she'd never have,
more like something she deserves the best.
All she has to do is,
forget all the time she was left astray.
As there are;
So many hearts that beat,
So many mouths to feed,
So many moments to live,
So much laughter to give.
Till then;
She'll preserve what she has to outlive,
Reserve whats her to give,
Before the loving heart misgives.
The better-bitter days she lives.

Interracial Marriage

I suddenly see a lot of tweets about interracial marriages for this past few hours. I first felt slight anger because I see no necessary for Malaysians to make this an issue, then I realized, aren't we Malaysians always making something,anything and everything an issue? Sigh. 

Interracial marriages to me is such a divine relationship. They're beautiful and strong, and I've seen it very closely in life. I'm a child of interracial marriage. Dad comes from an Indian Muslim (Malbari) family whos origins are from Kerala,India. Whereas Mum comes from a Sikh (Punjabi) family, from Kampung Pandan. Fate took its twist, and they met. It has been 18 years long, and looking at them now, I secretly wish to have such a beautiful relationship in future. Trust me when I say, mum keeps on telling us, that she feels as thou she just got married. Yes, that is because nothing has changed ever since then. Except that now they have five extra "luggages".  Their love, respect, care and thoughts, remains the same.

Speaking about the count of interracial marriages, I think we are one of those countries with highest number of count. We come from a background of various race, religions, culture and style of living, and I see no necessary reason of being against it. How would we have our gorgeous Chindian girls, super hot Chinese Punjabi guys and cute little Indian Muslim kids without interracial marriages? 

Hello, this has been going on for years, and now you people are coming up with lame excuses to go against it? 

To those who are saying that interracial marriages is against Islamism, I apologize for saying this, but there are tons of people doing wrong out there, and even committing worse sins, (according to the Islamic way of life) but finding fault in marriages is just plain stupid. Go out to a night club in KL, and see the number of Muslim teenagers there, be it Malays, Indian Muslims, Pakistani Muslims or even those Arabs down here. From clothes to drinking liquor, up to free mixing, everything is the total opposite of Islamism. You can't stop people from committing sins, but then don't bring up silly issues. If they're mature enough to decide their marriage, then they are surely able to decide their way of life. 

Looking at it in a practical way, I surely support interracial marriage. Than to have sex, get pregnant and to find the child in bins and toilets, I find that building a family with love and care,then raising the kids with manners and good etiquettes way more respectful. On the other hand, his and her families. When culture and caste comes in between. One word, ridiculous. We're in 2012. United States has approved gay marriage and here we are argueing about caste and culture. *slaps head*                                                                          

Culture clashes happens in interracial marriages, but it all depends on how the couple is going to cope and how will the kids be raised. Fortunately,these days, I don't see culture clashes happening. The couple and their families are able to respect, accept and approve the culture of another. I see Chinese families are being able to accept an Indian daughter-in-law and a Malay family accepting a  Punjabi son-in-law. For instance, my father, while attending my maternal cousin's wedding in the gurdwara, had his head covered. That's what I'm saying about. Give respect to the other family and problem solved! 

Now, the unfortunate part is the one involving us. Yes, us brown people. You know who. Caste. Caste. Caste. "No son, I don't care if she is a doctor, earns more than you, and is the prettiest girl in the universe, you can't marry her. She's from a lower cast. Our relatives will look low upon us. Its an prestige issue.", that's what typical brown parents will tell you. *shrugs* So what?? So what if the other is from another caste? Lower or higher? You can't blame him/her for being born into those specific caste. Not that they choose to. And even worse, when someone from a lower caste is living a better earning, is more educated, and carries herself/himself better in public than the one in the higher caste? I personally feel that their family should be thankful the couple are truly in love with each other, instead of fooling around, has decided to build a family, witnessed by God Almighty, and is legally approved. Why put your kids in dilemma? Excuse me, prestige issue? Your prestige would go down the trash if they eloped. Duh.  

Interracial marriages in Islam is way too complicating for my understanding. It may seem like a simple concept for Muslims that's been raised in the western society. Our parents, in the other hand see this as the end of the world,unfortunately. They grew up in different circumstances, in a different kind of society and in different cultures. I’m not saying that only because you live in the west it means you should forget about your culture, but it’s that culture has no Islamic basis. Is the culture you preached about during your lifetime going to save you in your grave? I wish our parents could understand this.

This is all about culture, it has zero to do with Islam. The same thing goes to the fact that it’s more ok for men to marry a non-Arab than females. This is all based on culture and what people is going to say. This also has a lot to do with what kind of person you are. I know a lot of families who’d never consider getting their son or daughter married to someone outside their tribe because they think they’ll face a lot of “culture clashes”.  And here we go! Back to the world of cultures again.

It’s about how open minded you are. You can’t for one second think that you can marry someone from another tribe if you are close minded. Because your brain has been filtered with so many veils that prevents you from thinking pure thoughts. Pure as in raw. But even then, this is not enough. In Islam you have to respect and obey your parents until they tell you to do something that goes against Islam. If your parents are unhappy with you, then Allah (swt) is also unhappy with you. And this is why I say, interracial marriage in Islamism is way to complicated for my understanding. Maybe our understanding.

 Besides that, based on what I've seen, interracial marriages last longer these days. I want to see couples grow old together than to see them getting up and down the court, filing divorce papers together. (Not wishing to say in precise which race.) The world needs true, long lasting love. 

I wrote this post because I'm a biracial child and I felt the necessity to put my points out. I know not everyone might be approving what I have wrote. Just a reminder, its my blog. If my parents ever read this post, they'll be assuming that I have a boyfriend from another race. Well, I am yet to find someone, but then I just know that my parents would never disapprove a interracial marriage. (Terms and Conditions apply).

To those couples who is suffering from effected family affairs after your interracial marriage, trust me, it won't be long. Your love for each other will grow fonder. Build your family, and prove your love. The hurdles, the pain, the tears will all be worth someday. Someday, your family will have you back. Someday, everything will be fine. Someday, it will all be alright. I know.

Folks, ones rewards and sins is between him and God Almighty. Don't let culture and cast come in between. Respect their feelings and their relationship. Let them couples live their life. Give them a chance to have their dream wedding. Let them wear that once a life time smile while exchanging their rings. 

If anyone has thought of making this an issue, please feel welcomed. Mail me your comments or critics, I'd love to discuss this. After all, this is what I said and why it matters to you?