A Look Inside and Outside Abaya

O Prophet, tell your wives and daughters, and the women of the faithful, to draw their wraps over them. They will thus be recognised and no harm will come to them. God is forgiving and kind.

                                                                                                             Quran 33:59

“Going to Saudi? Oh, my God! You’ll have to wear Burqa there...”

“Oh my God, I can’t imagine you in that unhygienic attire. You’ll be stinking in that black dress in the desert.”

“See, Saudi is quite a mad country. You will have to clad completely in Burqa. When you are outside, you can show only your eyes. Even for going from one apartment to another in the same building, you’ll have to wear Burqa. They’ll make such a fuss even if a strand of your hair is shown outside.”

“Better wear black Salwar Kameez with long sleeves when you go to Saudi. Cover you head with the scarf. Ask your husband to bring Burqa to the airport. They’ll detain you otherwise.”

When my travel plans from India to Saudi Arabia was on, these were some instructions given to me by people who had been to or heard about Saudi Arabia. Even I, who had browsed about the country that I was going to live for some years, was horrified with this bit of knowledge. As per instructions, I clad myself in black Salwar Kameez with long sleeves and set forth with all apprehensions. I had also insisted that my husband should bring Burqa to the airport.

Sreejith came with the family friends Appuetan (Thrivikraman) and Sudeep to receive me at the King Khalid international Airport. All along my time at the airport, I felt that people were staring at me for not wearing Burqa. Appuetan and Sudeep shunned away my fears. They were in Riyadh for more than 10 years and assured that there is no need to wear Abaya on the way to and back from international travels.

My fears were not completely annihilated. I was arguing with Sreejith for not buying  the head scarf and face cover (later I learnt that their names are niqāb and hijab respectively), when another family friends came in.  The woman in the gang assured me that you have to wear only Burqa as mandatory. You can wear the shawl in the neck unless or until the Mutaween spot you and ask you to cover the hair. Still, that’s not dangerous since they won’t talk to you directly but only to your husband. You never have to wear niqāb and hijab by rule.  Keerthi also updated me that in Saudi Arabia, Burqa is referred as ‘Abaya.’ 

Honestly I didn’t trust her words completely. But the same evening, we went to the super market for shopping. That very first evening in Riyadh, I started to love Abaya and realized some of its advantages. The sand storm was in its strength when we stepped out from the car. The long cloak protected our body and without anyone’s instruction or demand, we automatically covered our head and face. I sense that in the old days, Abaya must have worn by native women to protect themselves from these sand storms, which are frequent in the desert.

Inside the mall, I found out many women in Abayas and without niqāb and hijab. Soon, I got used with the garment and many months passed without any hassle about Abaya.  As of visiting the friends in the same apartment, we never concerned about wearing Abaya. Even the Islamic women from India roamed around freely in the house dress in our apartment building.

As time went I found Abaya really useful whenever I have to go the nearby department store. Imagine yourself going to the department store in your cotton pants and house T-shirt. It is possible only under the protection of Abaya. Also, I remember the time, when I had the severe rheumatic attack and could go out just by putting the Abaya around my nightdress.  Soon, Abaya made me forget about my costume selection whenever I have to go out!

Since Abaya plays a main role in Saudi, there are some Abaya stores in the country set out to create trends in these garments too. There are many designer Abayas that are quite expensive and worth a catch. The designer Abayas might entice even those who argue against it. I was quite stunned by the hues and designs on the black garment on my first visit to an Abaya shop. They come in various materials too. When it’s prohibited for Muslim women to shape their Abayas, others can do so! Also, anyone can go and stitch Abayas in accordance to their body shape too. Normally Abaya appear in black colour, but I’ve spotted some women wearing the colourful ones too. 

During our shopping extravaganzas, we found that there is a special detergent especially available to wash Abaya. The Abaya cleaner with the soothing scent became our favourite not only for Abayas but for all our black dresses.  The feeling was so fresh to wear the Abayas after a wash in this detergent.

Yet, it would be untrue if I tell that I never missed the times without Abayas. Continues

Unknown Lives...An Explanation

An explanation for my earlier post 'Unknown Lives' 

There is no need to say that our life change day by day without our awareness. Off late, I get more aware of the fact that in this change, many people contribute tour life. Somewhere, sometime and somehow we might have crossed their roads. The only fact is that their lives were unknown to us till they came to play a role in our lives.

When I was in Bangalore, my friends from other parts of India used to make fun of me. “When two Keralites meet, they will first ask ‘What’s your name?’ and they next question would definitely be ‘Where are you in Kerala?’” Interestingly, they are true! But this is applicable not only to Keralites but also to others too.

When we are in a new situation and with new people, there is a tendency in us to connect with some of them. That is when we try to trace our common ways between them. As we get closer, we often wonder how we’d missed each other during the past even when we crossed the same roads. 

There are also people who came to our lives as total strangers and who became an integral part in our journey. But we might have earlier connected with them as total strangers. We might have been with them in the same movie hall, or traffic signal or shopping mall or temples/churches or at hospital etc. It may sound weird, but we don’t know who is there for us even on the very next day.

Some people went away from my life while others returned after a short break. Curiously,  even when they played an eminent part in my life, I never knew their lives completely. We were together for some time and shared the happiness and sorrows of that particular time. After the days of togetherness, we kept live the feelings for each other in mind and started a new life with new lives.

I may start a new life in the familiar but changed grounds very soon. .The life will turn another leaf. As I was thinking anxiously on the unknown lives ready to merge with mine, I had another thought. In a way all other lives except own life were unknown to us, right? We never know our parents' or siblings' lives other than period; we don’t know our partner’s life prior to the day we met them; we don’t know our child’s life after certain period!  . But one thing is certain. They all have imparted something or other into our self-to love, to care, to pamper, to trust, to confide, to fear, to hate and to be together.

Beauty Parlour

The fingers move incessantly

Pricking, pulling, patting and pampering.

I close my eyes away from,

The neat array of cosmetics!

As their colors stop to dazzle me,

I inhale the reviving fragrance.

Aromatic oils and perfumes in the air!

Soft music floats around,

Dripping me into, dreamy reverie!

Adept taps wake me up!

I sip the herbal tea

That refreshes my five spirits.

I come out with a free mind

And

An empty wallet!

Parting...

At first heat blinded my eyes.

I walked into the burning sand,

Holding, the hands of my loved one.

The blazing sun rose above us

And I was covered by blackness!

Then I saw the cool shades

Amidst, this engulfing heat...

No, it wasn’t a mirage,

It was you!

The desert became a valley,

Under, your magical touch.

The hot sand sang into,

Soft floors, to set our foot!

You turned the hot sunrays into,

Pleasant moon beams.

Summer and winter came,

Hand by hand with you.

Now, let me return to my shore.

Your equals are waiting us there.

While they set a new path for us,

Our un-hiked paths are left for you.

When we move ahead in our path,

You’ll travel in the other path.

We may not see each other,

When, we look back again.

But, the power of memories,

Have etched you forever in our lives.

No more tears,

No more Good Byes,

We know that parting is painful

And we love each other!

Wounded Dog

I lick and lick my wounds

It bleeds still!

Hunters who threw stones at me,

Forget me and sleep!

I don’t bark

I don’t bite

And

I don’t bounce at them...

I do whine

I do beg

And

I do wag my tail at them...

I can’t woo

I can’t growl

And

I can’t make love

All I can do...

I lick and lick my wounds

It bleeds still!

Rented House

I enter the house with closed eyes.

Here is our room, where,

Shreya kicked me awake from inside.

With my worries washed off,

In warm water of this white tiled washroom,

I pray with an empty mind,

Within the fumes of incense fragrance,

At the prayer room!

Amma coos to the newborn with,

Soft melodies in the next room...

I offer my cup of tea from the sunny kitchen to,

My dearest girl!

As we chat incessantly, the wind becomes a breeze

Carrying, the fragrance from my tended garden!

I open my eyes to look over my pet plants.

They are new as is the home that houses them.

Rooms have changed as is the life in it.

Here I close my eyes once again,

To feel its homeliness

Tomorrow when I close my eyes,

I can be here with all its warmth!

The Green Fields...

I don’t know why I’m writing about this topic. Till I slept on yesterday night, I had another topic in my mind. But since today morning this topics is haunting me as if to get free out of mind. The thought of paddy fields from my childhood!

I had my childhood at the ancestral home in a small village named Meladoor in Kerala. The land surrounding our home comprised a small pond, mango trees, countless coconut trees, jack fruit trees, banana trees, 2-3nutmeg plants and many cultivated vegetables. However more than any of these what interested me the most was the Paddy fields at the border of this one acre land. 

During our Christmas vacation, I watch with anticipation for the water in the paddy fields to slowly recede. During that time I didn’t know that the constant humming of a motor in the night was actually pulling out the water from the fields and pouring it into a constructed water body.

By January, there would be ploughing and farming in its full bloom. We would wait for the mud bridges to become hard so that we can take the short cut to the main road to catch our bus. The route through the paddy fields would take us to the bus stop within five minutes. Otherwise we had to take the proper road, where we had to walk of twenty minutes to reach the bus stop.

 The walk through the paddy fields in the morning and evening used to impart a positive energy into me though I couldn’t name the feeling on those days. There is always a beauty in being with the nature. 

There were some Harijan families that lived on the other end of the paddy fields. Their children used to hoot and call at us as they saw us pass. Though they lived in mud thatched huts with coconut leaves strewn roofs and they always seemed to be happy. During our way back from school I sometimes stood behind to watch the children play merrily. 

By the end of March, the ripened stems of the paddy field would start to turn golden in colour. My hands always itched to pluck them to feel their crispy feeling in my hand. But, Amma never allowed us to pluck them. She used to tell, 

They have planted these with so much of hard work. You should not unnecessarily rob them of their reward. It’s a crime.

By the same time I would be getting impatient for the beginning of school holidays. Summer vacation was not only filled with complete freedom from studies, reckless games with the neighbourhood kids, visit from my aunt and cousins, the favourite festival of Vishu but also with our exploration into these paddy fields.

During the beginning of April, when the paddy fields would be heavy with the golden bunches of ripe rice stalks. I and my sister sometimes inured to take a walk in this paddy fields. The winding mud bridges would take us towards many sides of that 20 acre paddy field. Mostly, we took the paths that were not familiar to us just for having new sights. We sometimes imagined ourselves like adventurers who got lost in wilderness and who have to fight our way out of demons in this jungle. However apart from the hiding snails, not even a frog came on our way...

There would always be a stretch of water reserved for the irrigation work in the paddy fields. I still don’t know what all creatures had lived in that water. Once I was walking alongside the mud bridge of this water body and splashed the water with a stick that was in my hands. All of a sudden something long as the stick splashed into the air with a hissing sound and went down with the stick in my hand. My sister screamed. It was a King Cobra! I still don’t remember seeing the snake but have a feel that something pulled away the stick from my hand.

Even after this incident the elders were not scared us to send unattended to the paddy fields. They just scared us that there is a pond at the southern end of the water body where a woman got drowned herself. Her spirit might come and take you to the water if you touch the water body again. Naturally, this story was more than enough to keep us safe away from the dangerous area.

By the end of the April, the harvest would begin. We usually avoided the paddy fields during that time except for the evening strolls.  At this time, as I had passed some houses in the village, I could see their courtyards made up with cow dung, people busy with segregating the rice grains from its stalks and boiling the grains in big vessels to segregate further the rice. The boiling smell of rice grains always brought a mouth watering experience for me.  There were many people needed for this work. I remember a woman called Chakki was so much in demand at this time, owing to her expertise in this field.

Then, with an unspoken message, we would realize when the harvest would over and the field was free for us. As we visit the barren fields, the dry roots of rice would prick our feet. Even then we and our friends in the neighbourhood would shift our playground to the field. It was then we used to take out the clay from the field and tried our skills at the art of sculpture. We also used to play difficult games like sit in silence or paint the nature or write poems etc. We all were so convinced that we can become an artist only if we watch nature.

By the middle of May, the rains will start. First, the erratic raindrops would wet the clay, making the field slippery and inoperative for our playground. Then, the heavy rains would fill the fields making the whole area look like a river. By the beginning of June, the fields would be overflowing with water and our schools would start at the same time. On my way to or back from school, I sometimes peered through the window curtains of the bus to have a look at the drowned paddy fields. As raindrops splashed in full force over the water, I used to wonder where all traces of my playground had lost!

Afterword: After many years I and my sister visited the place together in December 2010. The paddy fields were filled with water as usual. There were many migratory birds in the water that had not been there in our childhood. The houses at the other end of the fields were not there. I don’t know where they all went. I didn’t ask my Aphan who still live there about the changes that would come to the paddy fields in the coming months. I like to think that it would be just as same as in my childhood.