I need to find hobbies that don't include eating or buying things.

We are in an era of online blogs and Instagram stories about our day to day lives. The traditional existence of journaling or scrapbooking are the endangered species of beautiful keepsake journals.

Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy the online blogs and the picture stories on Instagram; and I do have few insta-stories and even an online blog (though not a very regular or even an intriguing blogger). However, I do love the idea of record keeping a very personal journal of my journey. Even for the times when my life is not social media worthy, but definitely substantial to capture it in my small leather bound diary.

I have been journaling on and off ever since I was a teenager. Journaling does more than just help to record our memories or find self-expression. Simply putting words on a page will probably not get you all the benefits of journaling, but effective journaling can result in many positive outcomes and improvements to our quality of life. Journaling helps control our symptoms and improve our mood by: helping us to prioritize our problems, fears and concerns. Tracking any symptoms day-to-day so that we can recognize triggers and learn ways to better control them.

Fujifilm Instax Mini 9 Instant Camera

Journaling with scrapbooking supplies is something new for me. Scrapbooking is a crafting and documentation activity, involves taking books with blank pages and adding photos, memorabilia, journaling and embellishments. It has been around since the 15th century. I have recently found that one of the big psychological pluses associated with scrapbooking (in fact with any craft or hobby) is that it has the ability to transport us to a different place, away from routine concerns. The manual process to log my life into a craft is therapeutic.

Few years ago, I won this cute polaroid camera at my Husband's office Christmas party. In an age when virtually everyone has an easy access to the camera on a smartphone, polaroid cameras offer something more: the opportunity to hold a physical copy of our photo within seconds of taking it, then admire it—not on a screen, but on a scrapbook!

Little did I know that someday this little toy will help me assemble my memories. Memories are how we pass down our traditions and preserve our legacies. It’s what resonates at the end of the day and at the end of a life.

Positive Affirmation

Big Bend National Park,
Texas, US

Affirmations are proven methods of self-improvement because of their ability to rewire our brains. Much like exercise, they raise the level of feel-good hormones and push our brains to form new clusters of “positive thought” neurons.

Affirmations strengthen us by helping us believe in the potential of an action we desire to manifest. When we verbally affirm our dreams and ambitions, we are instantly empowered with a deep sense of reassurance that our wishful words will become reality.

I am at peace with all that has happened, is happening, and will happen.

Health is not about the weight I lose, but about the Life I gain!

Glacier National Park, Montana, US

It’s not a secret anymore that I am a chronic illness warrior. Chronic illness has put me in a different place in life than everyone else. It’s not just pain. It’s complete physical, mental and emotional assault on my body. I take steroids like a diabetic take insulin. I do things at pain levels others wouldn’t even consider moving at because if I don’t, I won’t have a life. Some days it’s intensely hard for me to roll out of bed or stand straight after a shower, and there are days I am running the kitchen like a Bionic Woman.

I was never exactly a home body. This “illness” had altered my life in so many ways I never imagined. And of course, this annoying pandemic did not make things easy for me! Staying indoors for so many months without any proper physical activities made it harder to keep an ideal weight. The insane amount of steroids and sodium I feed into my body - it makes it even harder to maintain an ideal weight at the age of 37. But it’s more important now I find ways to push myself harder to eat healthy and adopt a healthier lifestyle. There are many ways to love our body but fueling our body with nutritious food is the highest form of self-respect. 

Today, more than 95% of all chronic disease is caused by food choice, toxic food ingredients, nutritional deficiencies and lack of physical activities. Eating right portions and more from the earth can do significant difference. Every time I eat, it’s an opportunity to nourish my body. Good nutrition creates health in all areas of our existence. All parts are interconnected. Our bodies are designed to hunt for our food and then prepping it, which is actually a good way to stay physically active. Occasionally walking down the supermarket aisles will not supplement for hunting. Thankfully I don’t have to hunt for my food or even walk miles to pick my veggies or carry buckets of water from a well. The least I can do is “walk.” Keeping a tap on my daily steps or doing light workouts can supplement for our “hunting rituals.” Recently I have started intermittent fasting and online Zumba classes to dance away all my stress and embrace a good laugh (yes, I am the most comical dancer in the history of mankind). 

One can’t deal with chronic illness when they are already defeated mentally and emotionally. We often talk about mental health without really understanding how it all begins or how real people have to deal with it. Posting a mental health awareness quote on social media is “hip” now. But dealing with mental health is more than just a shallow post on social media. Anxiety and depression are not self-inflicted. Anyone who has met me, knows I am a happy-go-lucky clown. Yet, I have a spectrum of clinical depression. It’s a chemical imbalance in our body due to health issues or even due to lot of chemicals we must endure for treatments. There are ways to feed our mind and emotions with intangible “nutrition.” I have found these very helpful to keep me sane for most days. I don’t usually watch TV, so I keep myself often occupied with office work, reading books, virtually socializing with friends, cooking & baking, gardening, crafting, journal-ing, reading Quran or listening to Quran recitations. 

There are so many ways to wire our brain to feel good and be grateful all the time. I have learned to treasure every alert moment. Every second of pain free bliss or distracted conversation has become a gift. 

::::DISCLAIMER:::: 

This post is not to body-shame me or anyone. This is me just sharing how I am dealing with my illness and how I am striving every day to better myself. My heartfelt thanks to Rubana Saquib & Pegah Hemati for inspiring to try to be fit. I am so fortunate to surround myself with “fit people” who inspire me to be disciplined.

Untitled Solace (Poem)

We strolled together like our own shadow,
But we took solace in the arms of strangers.
We chimed on how our stars are aligned,
But we marveled at a different moonless sky.

We sang our wordless song on a broken violin;
We chanted lores to bewitch our hearts;
We satirized the enigma of our affinity,
But we kept silent of our hearts’ euphony.

We gazed into our inner eyes for decades
We interlocked our souls in a cosmic marriage.
We held our memories like a lucky charm-
And together, we felt a beautiful solace in each other’s existence.

One in a Million?

In the last few months, I have been to different hospitals and specialists for multiple procedures and lab works. Honestly speaking, it has been exhausting and nerve wrecking. Even though, the strenuous procedures didn’t come as a full surprise to me. Nevertheless it has been physically and emotionally tolling. I say it has not been a surprise, because 3 years ago I was officially diagnosed with a rare condition and that too in the nick of time. I say rare, because statistically it happens to one in a million...duh...of-course I am one of a kind (if you already didn’t know that). 😜

I have been kind of house arrest for almost a month now...it’s depressing for someone like me. Until now, I never said this out loud- why I crave adventures, but it’s time I embrace my reality bravely. I love to travel and the main reason is because I am scared.

Yes, it’s fear that makes me travel. I am absolutely terrified that life can change right in-front of my eyes. Many of us have seen it happen to our loved ones. We never know when our time will be up.

I can’t imagine anything worse than thinking about missed opportunities, places I should have gone to, hobbies I should have pursued and adventures I wish I had. It’s not just about traveling, it’s everything. I want to read all the books, try all the foods, have a job that challenges me, meet all the people and watch all the films. And, of course, travel to ALL THE PLACES.

I only get one life. One beautiful but short life and it’s such a cliché to say this but this isn’t the dress rehearsal, this is the real deal and I will only be able to do this once. I have got one chance to do everything and I want to do it ALL!

Ramadan Journal

“Ramadan is .…. a glimpse of what we are capable of doing every day.”

We all have heard or read this quote somewhere. Some might be embarrassed or even feel guilty for falling short rest of the year; and few might be around the corner to ridicule us for doing that “extra” for this month. So, what is it that rekindles that spirit in us to do what we do? The holy spirit? Rahmah of Ramadan? Religious traditions? Peer pressure? Whatever it is, religious or not – this time of the year we all feel extra connected and tuned to something bigger than us and mightier than all.

I come from a conventional Muslim household, and part of my childhood was in one of the holiest city. I was born in Ramadan in Medina and exceptionally fortunate to observe how the Arabs celebrate Ramadan. In the Middle East, Ramadan is a month-long celebration of coming together to pray, sharing food and gifts, doing extra charity and being extra sincere even with day-to-day chores. The Bangladeshi side of me was lucky to come upon my inherited rituals of Ramadan. The basics are almost the same, but in Bangladesh everything comes deep-fried (if you know what I mean).

As a teenager in Bangladesh, Ramadan was fun! Most schools are closed for the month, offices have shorter working hours, family and friends organize iftar dawats, neighbors share a fancy tray full of their best iftar dishes, and ofcourse – the shopping bonanza for Eid. I prized the many dresses I got in the name of Eid. I embraced my Bangali-ness! I made bewildering memories of eating deep-fried food (everything tastes better when fried – simply ask a Texan!). And most favorite of my memories was having family and friends over for iftar – oh my….the wait for the food and family at the big table might be as priceless as Vinci’s famous painting - The Last Supper.

Today, it’s just the two of us at my table with an unconventional iftar menu. Nevertheless, I have learned to assimillate to my new ways. Even before our quarantined life, I had often refused to join social gatherings during Ramadan, or even Masjid for iftar and Tarawih. It’s not because I go “extra” whack during this month. It’s mostly because of my inability to “human” due to the interference with my routine meds. Health is wealth, ask someone who does not have that. There are so few things I can eat today without worrying about the consequences. But this does not stop me from cooking up some unconventional-delicious-iftar.

Cooking is therapeutic only when it’s not expected of you. Being so frequently sick, my husband does not expect me to cook most days. We are a household of two, no kids, no pets – I get plenty of time and energy to cook in the name of meditation. When I am not huffing and puffing to get dressed after a long day to be at an iftar dawat, I spend that time at home in my oversized t-shirt, faded pair of yoga pants and a messy hair bun to prepare a hearty iftar for two or sometimes for my Muslim neighbors (in case you are thinking why haven’t you received your iftar yet….maybe you live too far?) - feeding a fasting person is believed to come with great reward from Allah. Yes, sharing iftar with neighbors is an endearing tradition that I have embraced into my not-so-conventional life.

All in the name of keeping up Ramadan “traditions,” the time, energy, effort and money we spend in preparing, consuming multi-course meals is tragic. Ramadan is the month of fasting. Paradoxically, it has become the month of food. Lots and lots of it. During this month many slaves away in the kitchen up until the Magrib Adhan. The truth is we are obligated to fast, pray, read the Quran, and perform all other acts of worship. Why then should we be burdened solely with increased cooking and setting up tastefully done iftar party tables, which results in the missing out on the bounties of the blessed month?

My inability to be in bigger crowds and host regal iftar parties - have put me in a retreat. I am not religious; spiritual, maybe? Alhamdulillah, I am indebted to my poor health - it is a blessing in disguise. It made me more spiritual and more tuned to the priorities of life, and treasure my blessings. The fast itself is considered a purification of sins and a time to cleanse mind, body, and soul. Some say, Ramadan does not come to change our schedules, it comes to change our hearts. But how do we change our hearts if we don’t amend our habits?

NOSTALGIA

Nostalgia…কত কোটিবার শুনেছি বড়দের বলতে।

অর্থটা জানতাম, কিন্তু মনে হয়না আগে আমি এতটা এই শব্দের অৰ্থ বুঝেছিলাম। Nostalgia শব্দটির সত্যিকার এর অর্থ বুঝতেহলে - TIME and SPACE খুবই প্রয়োজন। TIME - কিছু উপলব্ধি করতে কিছুটা সময় পার করতে হয়…..আর কিছুটা বয়স বাড়লে জানা যায়। And SPACE কারণ দূরে গেলে অনেক মানুষ এর সাথে সম্পর্কের গভীরতা বারে এবং তাদের কদর।

আজকাল আমি খুব নস্টালজিক। জানি না কেন…. হয়তো আমাদের এই quarantine life বা সত্যি হয়তো আজ আমি বড় হয়ে গিয়েছি। আমি কোনো writer না। যদিও মাঝে মাঝে trendy হয়ে Facebook-এ দু-একটা ভাবের post দিয়েই ফেলি।

ছোট ছোট অনেক স্মৃতি বেজে উঠে আমার ঘরের নিত্য দিন এর কাজ এর ফাঁকে। আজকে মনে হলো, লিখে রাখি কোথাও। কে জানে কাল যদি আমার মনে না থাকে? কাল যদি আর সুযোগ না পাই share করার?

আমি তেমন বাংলাদেশী রান্নাবান্না করতে পারি না। আমি এতটাই nostalgic আজকাল, যে খুব আগ্রহ নিয়ে আমি দেশি রান্না শেখার চেষ্টা করছি। দেশে আবার কবে যাবো জানি না। এতটা সময় চলে গিয়েছে, আজ অনেকের রান্না খাবার সুযোগও নেই। 

Milk boil করতে দিয়েছিলাম ছানা বানাবো বলে.….আমি attentively দাঁড়িয়ে ছিলাম চুলোর পাশেই। Wait করছিলাম....এই বুঝি বলোক উঠবে। একটা পাতলা দুধের স্বর পড়তে লাগলো। আর আমি তাকিয়ে তাকিয়ে চলে গেলাম সেই পুরানা পল্টন - আমার ছোট-নানুর বাসায়। তাদের সেই বাসায় আমার অনেক স্মৃতি। আমার স্মৃতিতে সেই প্রথমবার আমার দুধের স্বর খাবার experience তাদের বাসায়। আমার বয়স তখন maybe 4/5 years old.

দেশে যখন বেড়াতে যেতাম, আমার কাছে ছোট-নানুর পুরানা পল্টন এর বাসাটা ছিল খুব আকর্ষণীয়। একতালা বাড়ি। সামনে অনেক খোলা জায়গা…..আর সাথে ছোটোখাটো একটা প্রাইভেট মাঠ। অনেক গাছপালা আর এক কোনায় মুরগির একটা খোপ। মুরগি as pets was a bit odd for a বিদেশী বাচ্চা like me but still exciting as the Old MacDonald’s farm. আরো একটা বিশেষ কারণে আকর্ষণীয় ছিল, অনেকটা সময় unsupervised খেলাধুলার scope ছিল। ছোট-নানু তখন একজন Nutritionist. রোজ তার অফিস বা field trip-এ যেতে হতো। মামা হয়তো কোচিং করতে যেত। আমরা ছোটরা বাসায় থাকতাম under the supervision of a reliable বুয়া and ofcourse প্রতিবেশী নানু। যদিও ছোট-নানু অফিস থেকে ঘনঘন ফোন করতেন to check on us. বিনি খালা আর আমি সমবয়সী, তারপরও তার "খালা" ও "মুররুব্বী" একটা ভাঁড় ছিল। 

নানু তার field trip বা হয়তো কোনো farm থেকে খাঁটি দুধ gallon করে নিয়ে আসতো আমাদের জন্য। সেটা আবার চুলায় জাল দিতে হতো। চুলায় জাল দিয়ে মিল্ক prepare করা wasn’t an usual sight for me as a child. 

আমি ছোটবেলায় একদম milk খেতে like করতাম না। তবুও খেতেতো হতোই। মদিনাতে আমরা milk খেতাম from a small juice like carton – straw দিয়ে। মিল্কটা mostly ঠান্ডা বা রুম টেম্পারেচার এ থাকতো। 

নানুদের বাসায় মিল্কটা properly boil হয়ে গেলে, বড়দের মতন করে একটা floral designed tea-cup-এ খেতে দিতো। টি-কাপটা খুবই লোভনীয় ছিল কারণ মেহমান আসলে ওটাতে চা খেতো। ছোট্ট আমি খুবই special feel করতাম, আবার বিরক্তও হতাম - milk আবার গরম খাই নাকি!

আমার সঙ্গে বিনি খালা আর চন্দন মামার ও খেতে হতো। ছোটবেলায় মনে হতো চন্দন মামা অনেক বড় - কত কিছু জানে ও পারে (যদিও…now I think of it he was just a teenager). তাকেও যদি খেতে হয়…..যতই নাতনি আর মেহমান হইনা কেন….আমারতো আর রেহাই নাই…..আমিতো কত ছোট। আমার খালা-মামাকে দেখতাম খুব মজা করে দুধের স্বর খেতে with their milk. এমন lumpy content খেতে মজা হতে পারে কে জানতো!

আমার খালার এতো প্রিয় ছিল দুধের স্বর যতবার স্বর পড়তো, সে খেতো। আমার খালাকে এতবার দুধের স্বর খেতে দেখে মনে হল কি জানি অমৃত miss হয়ে যাচ্ছে.....তাই আমিও try করলাম direct warm পাতিল থেকে। খেয়েতো মজাই লাগলো….almost like a rich clotted cream but in a patil. একবার খেয়ে আরো খেতে মন চাই। আমাকে যদি মিল্ক না দিয়ে রোজ এই স্বরটা দিতো কত ভালো হতো!

নানুদের বাসার চুলো কিছুটা ground level ছিল, তাই পাতিল reach করা was easy for a tiny kid like me. খেলার ফাঁকেফাঁকে, দৌড় দিয়ে রান্নাঘরে যেতাম স্বর খেতে। আমি আঙ্গুল ডুবিয়ে উঠাতাম – which was very convenient and satisfying. খেয়েদেয়ে বেশ ফুর্তিতেই দিনটা কেটেগেলো। Until that night, “all hell broke loose” might not be the most appropriate here, but definitely “all stomach went loose.”

নানু ভেবেই পাচ্ছিলোনা কি খেয়ে হটাৎ এতো পেট খারাপ হলো আমার। আমি তো ভয়ে বলিনা যে সারাদিন এত্তোগুলো ফুল ক্রিম মিল্ক এর স্বর খেয়েছি। জানতে পারলে লজ্জাতো পাবোই, তার সাথে তুফান এর বেগে নালিশ চলে যেত আব্বু-আম্মুর কাছে। আর add হতো আমাদের মাইরের লিস্টে যখন ফিরে যেতাম মদিনাতে।

Embarrasment এর কথা মনে পড়তেই আমি যেন টাইম-মেশিনে করে ফিরে এলাম আমার আজকের চুলোর পাশে। এবারও পাতিল এ স্বর পড়লো....সেই ছোটবেলার মতন আঙ্গুল ডুবিয়ে স্বর উঠিয়ে খেলাম.....এই আশাই যদি আবার ওই সাধটা ফিরে পাই।