Help your kids (and yourself!) shift the lens with Mr. Gamal’s Gratitude Glasses

Do you often find yourself preaching the importance of gratitude to your children? Or thinking “This generation is so entitled…it’s because they have it all handed to them on a plate!”? And yet, no matter how hard you try to instill thankfulness in them, they seem to be getting whinier and grumpier by the day, right?

This was Mr. Gamal’s dilemma too in Asmaa Hussein’s book titled Mr. Gamal’s Gratitude Glasses. But unlike the often used “preach to teach” approach, Mr. Gamal (or rather Asmaa) has used a much more creative way to teach the kids some much-needed gratitude!

Of course, the title somewhat gives the storyline away (and this review will give away even more…beware spoilers ahead!) but the way the plot has been weaved is so simple and yet, so so creative. Superficially speaking, it is Mr. Gamal’s creativity that shines through his idea of distributing tinted glasses from the dollar store to his students after a day fraught with grumpiness to encourage them to shift their perspective, so to say. But when you delve deeper, you find creative nuance in the way each character in the story finds things to be grateful for in the midst of feeling lost and hopeless. And that, I think, is key to teaching gratitude to children or even ourselves. Because you see, when someone is feeling lost and forlorn, telling them to “be grateful for what they have” does N.O.T.H.I.N.G. In fact, preaching to them when they are already down might make them feel even worse for feeling down. In essence, we shame them when we do so.

And shaming gets no one anywhere. Not anywhere GOOD, at least.

Instead, the story unfolds in a way that each character does not only find gratitude in the situation, (which is often hard) but finds creativity, ingenuity and direction – all of which make them feel thankful and optimistic. For instance, when Farah was dismayed at forgetting her lunch at home, she put her tinted glasses on, which prompted her friends to ask her what was wrong (because remember Mr. Gamal had asked them to put their glasses on when they felt compelled to whine?) and when she told them that she didn’t have her lunch, they all shared theirs with her which motivated her to share hers with others if someone forgot theirs in the future.

Talk about a positive chain reaction!

Or when Adam accidentally spilled blue paint on his white T-shirt, the glasses inspired him to convert that blue blob into a whale! 

Talk about creativity!

And losing at dodge ball early in the game compelled Mona to look at her surroundings while she sat on the sidelines getting bored, and she ended up taking home three caterpillars to study as they morphed into beautiful butterflies!

What a great way to turn boredom into a science project!

And Yusuf…Yusuf’s gratitude journey actually has multiple lessons. He did not find gratitude the first time…who would if they had sprained their ankle and had to stay off their feet in all the games and sports? But after his mates presented their gratitude findings, he was able to go back, re-asses the situation and not only be thankful for having the cool experience of getting x-rayed and eating three lollipops (I think 3 is the author’s lucky number! 😄), but he also realized that he wanted to be a doctor like his mom!

I think this little bump and U-turn played out by Yusuf’s character was so integral to the story because it shows kids (and adults) that it is possible to re-do things, it is possible to make mistakes and correct them, it is possible to know better and do better. Life is all about that, isn’t it?

Such a powerful lesson!

And I LOVED how Asmaa inserted the dialogue, “The glasses just made everything look pink…But they made our brains discover new ways to think about stuff!”

Do you know what dialogues like that can do? They can prompt discussions with kids about the brain and all its parts and capabilities. And trust me, kids find stuff like this fascinating if you explain it in a fun, engaging way. Talk to them about the amygdala, the cognitive brain, the emotional brain, the lizard brain! It’s like telling them about different tools or the parts of a vehicle. If you explain it in a creative and simple way, they will not only want to know more but it will also help them identify what their brain is telling them at different times, help them shift their perspective and give them more control.

Trust me, kids are smarter and more capable than we think!

Of course, ending the story with a lesson for Mr. Gamal himself was an added tweak of humor by Asmaa and a reminder to us adults that sometimes WE need to put on some tinted glasses too!

With its simple but essential message of developing ‘an attitude for gratitude’ woven into a very creative storyline with everyday language and dialogues by Asmaa, and clean but detailed illustrations by Núria Tomàs Mayolas, Mr. Gamal’s Gratitude Glasses is definitely a keeper, and I have a feeling we’ll be turning to it long after we outgrow it!  

I, for one, have regularly started to whip out my 8-year-old’s sunglasses every time he whines about something! They will have to do until our next trip to the dollar store! 😆

You can order Mr. Gamal’s Gratitude Glasses from Ruqaya’s Bookshelf here!

Why ‘Yeh Dil Mera’ (translates loosley to ‘Oh, My Heart’) Took My Heart

I am soooo late to the party…almost 3 years to be exact…but I just finished watching Hum TV’s Yeh Dil Mera and to say that I am veryyyy pleasantly surprised, would be an understatement. Not a frequent viewer of Pakistani dramas, I have to admit I started watching this because of Ahad Raza Mir lol. However, it soon became obvious that this drama is so much more than looks, romance and extra martial affairs, unlike most Pakistani dramas.

Although every character has done justice to their role, it is the plot, the emphasis on mental health and the very unconventional ending that has possibly made this one of the top 10 dramas of all time for me. While there are flaws, such as the surnames of Amaan’s family members (Abdullah instead of Ubaidullah) written on the tombstones he hides in the ‘secret room’ to no mention of Sara, Mir Farooq’s secret second wife or her murder added to the list of heinous crimes committed by him at the end of the serial, to the pace of the drama which dragged in some places; the mystery, thrill, suspense, rage and distress carefully crafted by the writer, Farhat Ishtiaq, and beautifully brought to life by the actors, makes up for much of it.

The way Amaan used his inherited wealth to avenge his inherited anguish was, if you think about it, a plan of sheer craftsmanship and genius. The suspense was evident from his first meeting with Aina when he sketched her at the wedding. Planting the first questions in her mind, “How did he know that I have a scar on my chin?”, “Have I ever had short hair since I was a kid?” are questions that subconsciously began her journey of going back in time to her childhood, which eventually became the last piece of the puzzle in the drama. The way he played Mir Farooq by presenting himself as a young and successful entrepreneur, perfect for his over-protected daughter and ideal for presenting as his son-in-law in the high society he was accustomed to, was also commendable. Aina admitting to her father that “she felt safe with Amaan the way she felt safe with him (Mir Farooq)”, was both a source of comfort and a blow to Mir Farooq judging from his reaction, and a testament to the hold that Amaan had over both, father and daughter.

While the romance and chemistry between Amaan and Aina was a pleasure to watch, it was their expressions of confusion, anguish, despair and rage, individually as well as for each other, that took the cake, at least for me. The way Amaan went from a confident, successful young man to looking like a lost child showed the audience just how a person suffering from mental trauma behaves when triggered. Aina’s regular visits to the psychiatrist was very refreshing to watch since mental health, although depicted in Pakistani dramas through domestic violence, anger issues and extramarital affairs, is never shown to be addressed by characters actually seeking mental help. Although in hindsight, it also seems to be Mir Farooq’s way of keeping his daughter in a perpetual state of mental confusion by making her believe that there WAS something wrong with her. Her reluctance to share her visits with her friends also depicts the ever-present stigma around mental health in our society. It is these little nuances that make this drama so much more than the content we usually get to see on our screens.

What added to the suspense and thrill of the storyline was the way the story unfurled and switched between the past and present, eventually culminating in Amaan taking Aina step-by-step into her past – each prop, each event carefully placed and directed to take her deeper into her childhood. The broken swing that Amaan placed and then removed completely unhinged her but deepened her belief that there was something familiar about the cottage and the surrounding area, and that she HAD to investigate more. The way we saw her struggling with the same nightmare over and over again to watching her re-create that night by following the tracks that Amaan strategically placed for her, each step answering a long-standing question while compelling her to look for more. The way she stepped back into her childhood, watching herself climb down the window with her mother, running up and down the rough terrain in the dead of night, stumbling and falling, arriving at the train station and then watching her mother being shot point-blank, which brought her now-adult version down on her knees grasping at the spot where her mother bled to death all those years ago. Then running back to the haveli to ask Bua Ji for the whole damn truth so heart-wrenchingly, only to find herself back at the window and watching her father so ruthlessly bury her mother in their very own garden. These are often techniques that mental health practitioners take in real life to help their patients come face-to-face with their childhood traumas on the road to healing and wellness.  

While Bua Ji’s role in this decades-long tale of lies and deceit seems infuriating on the face of it, it brings to light the role many “trustworthy” members of the domestic staff find themselves in in reality. Domestic help is privy to many unspoken, often irrelevant happenings in the houses they are employed in. However, sometimes big, bad things happen and these domestic helpers are accomplices, either by being silent to the injustice they witness or by aiding their sahibs in their unscrupulous tasks. They are silenced by their poverty and the provisions their sahibs provide for their families, often much more than the base salary – the houses their families reside in, the schooling their children receive, the medical aid they and their family members need, and so on. Bua Ji’s constant defence – that it was her namak halali that kept her silenced, might be exasperating but it is not far from the truth. If you are still not convinced, let me remind you of the very recent tragedy that took Noor Mukaddam’s life – a young, educated woman from a well-educated and affluent family who was literally beaten to death, in real life, much like the fictional character of Nilofer in Yeh Dil Mera; while the servants of Zahir Jaffer, Noor’s perpetrator, watched in silence and possibly even abetted her murderer.

Why?

The same namak halali, the same power of money, that kept Bua Ji silent in the drama.

Reality isn’t too far from fiction, is it?

And then the ending. While I was watching the last episode, I turned to my husband and said, “Even if she does love Amaan, do you think she can live with him after all this?” Because you see while love is an integral part of a relationship, mental trauma takes a lot from a person and unpacking it, especially after years of living a life of lies and deceit like Aina did, takes even more. A person I know once told me how her niece sat out on the terrace and cried the whole night when she found out in her teens that her parents were her adoptive parents. She had a good family life, loving parents but finding out that her parents were not her biological parents, not knowing her actual roots, uprooted her completely.

This is what mental trauma does to a person.  

So, I for one, loved the ending. The realness of it, rather than the fairytale happiness we expect and get from our dramas. The openness – that Aina and Amaan loved each other but had to come to terms with their own realities, with their own selves in fact, before they could even consider being together. The positivity and generosity – how both of them became involved in charities; another technique advised by mental health experts – to help others in order to heal oneself.

With all its flaws and errors, this was a drama I truly enjoyed watching. Brilliant acting, especially by Ahad Raza Mir, Sajal Aly and Adnan Siddiqui, especially the agony alternated with fury that Sajal exhibited in the end; and Ahad’s eyes which went from looking so lost and empty when thinking of his dead family to being full of hatred and lust for revenge when he thought of Mir Farooq to being soft and compassionate when he found Sajal so broken and distraught; and Adnan Siddiqui who so adeptly went  from being an unapologetic power-hungry liar and murderer to a father helpless in his love for his daughter. Good direction and location selection. The northern areas of Shogran and their remoteness, tall trees and hilly landscapes added to the mystery and suspense. And an undeniably well-crafted plot depicting murder and mystery but encompassing real issues of trauma and healing.

We definitely need more content like this!

Zayd’s Curious Little Stories – Zayd Visits the Two Holy Cities

I had been eyeing this collection of 10 books written by Aneesa Omar, for some time and even took the advice of Fiza Asar whom I have learnt to trust when it comes to book reviews, especially books for children, and in particular, Islamic books for children! According to her, the books were great although slightly wordy for younger ones, but with immense information and a range of topics covered.

While researching online on where I could get my hands on this collection amidst the lockdown (lockdown? What lockdown?), I found that Dawah Books had them in stock. I corresponded with them and was initially told that delivery would take 2-3 days but when I sent them my final list of books, I was surprised to receive them in 3 hours! Yes, 3 hours! Anyway, after disinfecting and airing the books, we got down to reading them. And guess what? My almost 6-year-old couldn’t have enough!

Alhamdulillah. We’ve read Zayd Goes Sailing on the Sea, Grandpa Passes Away, When I Grow Up I Want to Be, At the Farm and Zayd Visits the Two Holy Cities. These were in two days and yes, like Fiza said they are wordy BUT informative.

Here I’m going to review Zayd Visits the Two Holy Cities. Before we read this, we had read some of the other titles in the series and my son had gone to pick out Zayd Prays With the Birds from our Ramadan book basket. But he put it back and picked out Zayd Visits the Two Holy Cities instead. He handed it to me with eyes sparkling saying,

“This one is thicker than the others.”

And thicker it was! With details about the Ka’aba, Masjidul Haram, Masjidul Quba, Masjidul Qiblatayn, Masjidul Aqsa, the Battle of Uhud, Dhul Hulayfa, the wearing of the Ihram, saying the Tahiyyat-ul-masjid (entrance to the masjid rakaats); rituals of Muqaam-e-Ibrahim, Tawaf and Sayi; taking a tour of sights such as Mount Hira, Mina, Arafat, Jannat-ul-Baqi, Jabal-e-Rehmat and more, this book literally brings to life the experience of visiting the Holy Cities. It even has the Prophet’s last sermon in it – a reminder for adults and children alike about EVERYTHING that is wrong in the world today. Throw in emotions such as awe, the desire to be like Muhammad (SAW), sadness at leaving the cities and returning home only to be replaced with the excitement of returning again one day, it is a detailed yet thoughtful book, which managed to evoke all the emotions that Zayd and his sister Khadija felt, in my son with him proclaiming at the end,

“Maybe when the Corona virus is over, we could travel to Makkah and Medina and see all these places?”

Aameen to that, little one. Aameen!

The Blessed Bananas

Does anyone here have a child who has a hard time sharing? And/or a child who loves bananas? Or a child who drives YOU bananas? (Hehehe, we all have those, don’t we?)

If the answer to any of the above questions is yes, then this book is for you! Written by Tayyaba Syed and illustrated by Melani Putri, The Blessed Bananas features a grumpy monkey named Rico, who HATES sharing, a kind white mouse, a gentle toucan and a sweet elephant, all of whom stumble by the grumpy monkey’s home (yes, you guessed it…it’s a banana tree!) only to be sent away (very rudely, I might add) by cranky, miserly Rico whose favourite past time is to count his bananas and put up signs to keep people (and animals) off his property! So so mean, right?

Although the core message of The Blessed Bananas is sharing, what stood out for us was:

1. That the monkey had it ALL; he knew HE had worked hard to make his banana tree flourish and yet, he felt that something was missing. I am so glad that the author included this emotion in the story, because when you don’t share, when you lack gratitude to people and to Allah, you do feel an emptiness inside.

2. All the animals who were thwarted by the mean monkey prayed for him. They asked Allah (SWT) to forgive him. Isn’t that amazing? Wouldn’t you want to teach your children that when someone is mean to them, they should ask Allah (SWT) to forgive them for their injustice? Shouldn’t WE strive to do the same as adults? Because in asking Allah (SWT) to guide and forgive the meanies, our hearts often soften a little towards them too, right?

Of course, when tragedy struck Rico and his home, all the animals he had driven off came to help him, which finally made him realize the error of his ways. He opened his heart and home to them and to all his neighbors and as expected, everyone went BANANAS eating bananas, drinking banana shakes, binging on banana bread and eating banana pudding!  

A good read where you learn about gratitude, sharing, forgiveness and the dangers of being selfish. Tayyaba has enhanced the dialogue with Salam, Durood and Alhamdulillah and has included the benefits of reciting Durood on the Prophet (pbuh) at the end of the book. There are 4 yummy banana recipes too!

Good reading and happy eating to you!  

Churails – What makes women want to be witches?

Needless to say,you must have seen or at least heard about Churails, the 10-episode Pakistani drama web series which has created quite a stir among viewers and non-viewers (don’t you just love it when people who haven’t seen or experienced something, have an opinion about it?!) alike since its release. Written and directed by Asim Abbasi, Churails is a 2020 ZEE5 exclusive and Zindagi Original series, starring Sarwat Gilani, Mehar Bano, Nimra Bucha and Yasra Rizvi in lead roles. It is produced by Asim Abbasi along with Mo Azmi and Shailja Kejriwal. The highly controversial series has sparked many a social media war with the supporters and naysayers having their say about the means and ways in which the churails of Churails chose to claim justice.

But did they really choose?

If you watch the series with an open mind, you will hopefully, like me, see so much more than simply women hurling abuses and behaving in inappropriate ways (by society’s standards).

Look at why they do what they do.

Understand what pushed them to adopt this approach.

The series shows women from all socio-economic classes look down upon themselves, consider themselves inadequate – physically and mentally – deny themselves their dreams, and are suppressed by the men in their lives. ONLY to have the same men swoop in and act as their saviors – “I love you…I’m here for you…Let me handle this…” – more subjugation.   

It is pathetic.

It is sickening.

It is true.

Why do they choose to call themselves Churails? Maybe because they know that the mission they have undertaken will be regarded as that carried out by women thought to be witches in olden times? Women who were forced to abandon their houses, families, villages, towns in fear of being burnt alive? Often just because they stood out in some way; in their physical appearance or worse, in their perception of society.  

Women who dare to speak out against injustice, misogyny and patriarchy – the very foundations of our society – can be nothing less than witches, can they?

The churails in the series owned their darkness, so to say. They personified what society thought of them.

Why is the demeanor of these women so infuriating for society in general, and for men in particular? Because they are women? Who are supposed to cast their eyes down and shroud themselves in layers and layers of fabric and confine themselves to their chaar diwaari? Because they are the izzat of men?

Oh please.

Izzat. A flimsy, two-faced word in our society.

A man’s izzat stems from the women in his house and is guarded fiercely, but the same man can easily go out and cast his hand (literally) on the ‘izzat’ of another man?

Why? How?

Who gave him that right?

How does this make sense?

Why is this acceptable?

Why is a man’s misconduct, bordering on psychosis, ignored so completely? Laughed off with a “boys will be boys” shake of the head. But when a woman chooses to look men in the eye, force them to buckle to their knees, give them a taste of their own medicine, they are insulted, abused, beaten, imprisoned or worse, killed? Either way, a woman has no way out, does she? She’s disrespected and mistreated when she lives by the wishes of men and society, and she’s disrespected and mistreated when she goes against them.

Please don’t get me wrong. Neither am I a man-hater, nor does Churails only depict bad men. The series has its share of men who respect and support women in all their damaged glory. Men who stand by and for women at the risk of social and professional backlash. But these are the exceptions rather than the rule.

Again, I ask, why is a man’s misdemeanor, ignored at best and laughed off at worst? Why is it so acceptable for men to hurl abuses and be disrespectful when it isn’t for women?

Please understand what I am asking. I am not condoning women using abusive language and acting in inappropriate ways. I am asking why aren’t men treated by the same standards as women?

Similar to a darzi’s deft sewing, abusive language and inappropriate behavior is so uniformly and neatly woven in their behavioral makeup that we don’t notice it, just like we don’t notice the neat stitch of our shirts. We wear them without giving it a second thought.

Let me explain what I mean.

About a month back, I went to buy textbooks for my son from a well-known bookstore in Karachi. While I was there, a worker brought a book from the back, which another mum had asked for. When he gave it to the guy at the counter, he looked at the worker and said, “BC…Physics ki book mangi thi. English ki nahi!” (MF…I asked for the Physics book, not the English one).

No one batted an eye. Many of the poor mums there probably didn’t even realize what he had said.

My question is WHY did he say it? What was the need? Why is this acceptable?

If normalizing women fighting for their rights, standing against violence, abuse and misogyny is such a threat to society, why is a seemingly senior salesperson at a bookstore in Karachi using an abusive word for his worker, in front of patrons, for no reason, NOT a threat to society? The way the word dropped off his tongue, so easily, effortlessly, unthinkingly, spoke volumes about his language and possible attitude towards women.

Look at this way. According to Shariah Law, the right hand of a thief is cut off if he/she steals once, the left foot if he/she steals a second time, and so on. In light of this, what should the punishment be for a man who commits rape? According to the law of parallels, what Nimra Bucha’s character in Churails did to her husband was perfectly justified.

Absolutely needed.

Normal.

What is NOT normal is to think of women asking for their right to be human, as churails.