our friend babar aziz passes away

one of my husband’s dearest friends, babar, passed away a couple of days ago in pakistan. they had been friends since 9th grade. we’re lucky that babar visited us over the summer and we got to spend some time with him. he was soft-spoken and kind, polite to the nth degree and devoted to his friends. my thoughts are with his family, especially his mother who has survived the death of her husband and both her sons. may she have the strength to bear this immense loss and may babar rest in peace. inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’un.

babar (L) at a dinner
babar (L) at a dinner

fall in rochester

fall is here in all its glory and the weather’s still mild and summery. had lunch with the wonderful Ursula Rozum at a restaurant in Corn Hill, Rochester. ursula is doing important work on universal healthcare and thinking through questions of organizing and people power. so heartening to meet dedicated young activists fully invested in changing the world. was also surprised to learn about the crucial role Metro Justice continues to play in pushing for universal healthcare and coordinating that effort state-wide. another reason to love rochester 🙂

looking for fall colors

in our quest for fall colors we drove all the way to geneva and were planning to continue to watkins glen. too early. some yellow for sure but barely any orange or red. it was cloudy and pleasant after the rain stopped this morning. broke our journey at geneva lake to enjoy a small picnic and some beautiful views.

geneva lake picnic

good things happen at spot coffee

was meeting a dear friend i hadn’t seen for too long at Spot Coffee, when two other friends *spotted* us from a window and we ended up having a lovely get together. we talked about machado de assis and the african undergirding of american languages, satirical writing and its subversive function, rentals in colombia, the best pupusas in central america, and much much more. this is why i love rochester!

mara with friends at spot coffee

my brother’s memories

this past weekend, we went to visit my brother, his family, and my mom and dad. we made this trip to celebrate my multi-talented musician nephews at a concert. drums, bass, electric guitar, ukulele, vocals – u name it, they excel at it. hanging out with my brother was trippy, as always. it’s not just his bright sense of humor or his ability to weave hilarious, legendary stories out of almost nothing, it’s also that many of his memories of our common past complete and restore mine. he, and my sisters, complete my story, my sense of identity. it’s an amazing thing. like existing as some kind of impressionistic painting, spread across states and continents, illuminated point by point by the recollections of those we love. we forgot to take the mandatory selfie, so here’s an older picture from a few years ago. it’s an homage to my brother and sisters who are an indelible part of who i am.

with my brother and sisters
with my brother and sisters

Gabriel Josipovici on the importance of touch

In my wanderings during my last trip to Dublin, Ireland, right before my screening at The Pearse Centre, I discovered The Douglas Hyde Gallery, housed in Trinity College’s Arts Building. It’s small but extremely thoughtful. I was particularly taken by its collection of books, many of them written by John Hutchinson, the gallery’s director. I bought some of the most beautiful ones, little gems that combine his thoughts on art, beauty and the ways in which he sees the world, with works of art. The first of these books, The Bridge, is filled with most of the ideals and principles he still embraces. In his own words, it’s “a set of notes, perceptions, and speculations… Threads appear and disappear; there are echoes and gaps; metaphors are mixed.”

Here is something I love from the book:

Gabriel Josipovici has written about how we might learn to feel at home in a world that is largely indifferent to our personal needs and wishes. He suggests that contentment and happiness may only be possible if we value *touch* over sight. Although sight seems to give us a sense of the wholeness of what we behold, it is only when we try to overcome distance and to *touch* the world that we become whole. If we depend on sight, which seems to offer us frictionless control of what we perceive, we may avoid some of the pains and uncertainties of living, but we will also lose our full involvement with life.

A Quran Khani

Yesterday I had a Quran Khani at my house. It’s a beautiful way of remembering and paying tribute to loved ones we have lost. The tradition involves getting friends and family together to read the entire Quran. Since reading the Quran is construed as a blessing, the collective blessings that attend finishing the Quran are sent, along with love and prayers, to those who have left us. Many of my Pakistani American friends found time, on a weekend, to join us and make all of this possible. They are some of the most extraordinary women I know. To the broader activist community out there, if you ever want to meet or talk to strong, accomplished and exceedingly kind and compassionate Muslim women, let me know. I can hook you up.