Standardized tests and lessons learned

Twenty six months and twelve days after the last time I sat for an examination, I had to take the GRE (Graduate Record Examination) today. The last time I took an exam, it was 24 hours before college graduation, for the class that was at the very bottom on my list of my priorities that semester. So, I don't remember studying or even caring about the outcome of that Geology 101 final. As far as I was concerned, I was done with all the finals for my major classes and was getting a degree the next day. Geology 101 was the very last thing on my mind. On that day, in the lecture hall where I took my exam, I was staring at the Scantron paper while planning out my graduation cap decorations and the perfect hijab to go with the gorgeous gown I'd picked out for my grad walk! I hardly knew that the next exam I'd take would be two years later or that it'd be an incredibly tiring, yet highly important standardized test. The experience I had while preparing for the GRE was quite different from experiences I've had with exams before and it'd be unfair to let that experience go undocumented. So here is a list of things I observed and learned while preparing for and taking the GRE:

1. You might think that spending a mere three days preparing for the SAT would've taught me never to repeat that. But seven years later, I found myself making the same mistakes.
2. The day after I registered for the test, way back in May, I started "studying" and gathering study materials. These study materials however, disappeared only to reappear two days before I was due to take the test.
3. I found myself drawing a blank while revisiting certain Math concepts for the test, that I'm pretty sure I'd spent hours studying while in college. Only after the test today, I remembered that I minored in Math while at college. I don't even know how to feel about that.
4. A major part of the GRE is vocabulary study and knowing how to use them in sentences. I had no idea that the English language had about 20 different words that meant the same.
5. Talking about vocab study, if I had studied for finals in college this efficiently, I'd have graduated with a 4.0 GPA.
6. I spent days staring at a list of 800 words that appeared most frequently in GRE tests and tricked myself into believing that I was actually learning those words. 
7. Finally, I realized I needed serious help. So my younger brother and sister were pulled into the prep team. We realized that learning (don't ask me how effectively) 817 words in a day is quite possible if you let your siblings make jokes about the words, correlate every other word to Harry Potter (that is how I passed every History test I took, ever) and let your fiance quiz you. We made a pretty good team.
8. In spite of having a good 60 days to prepare, the studying gets done only in the last weekend before the test and two after work evenings.
9. Studying while at work is quite possible and pretty efficient too. I found myself running to the car to solve a few practice tests, run back to my desk and repeat the above two steps multiple times a day. I must confess that I did get a lot of studying and work done that way! 
10. You can trick yourself into believing that you'll get a good 7 hours of sleep the night before the test, but then you find yourself staring at the clock multiple times that night - at 1:18, 3:20, 4:32.
11. If you have a strong gut feeling about wearing your eyeliner boldly the morning of the test, listen to that gut feeling. I found myself in front of the bathroom mirror, applying eyeliner at 5:30 in the morning, wondering what I was doing. Then I realized that it's best to not ask questions that can't be answered.
12. The best breakfast on test day? Little sister's chocolate waffles (with additional chocolate sauce because life is better with chocolate sauce for breakfast) and a huge cup of strong, bitter coffee. Trust me, it works wonders!
13. Lesson learned - While appearing for standardized tests, make sure the hijab isn't tied too tightly or else it gets supremely awkward trying to lift it on either side so that the proctor can make sure that you have no listening devices on your ears. It's best to avoid looking at the proctors at this time since they're trying hard to not look at your struggle with your headscarf and looking at them would just make the situation embarrassing for everyone.
14. I never thought I'd say this about myself but I had to use ear muffs during the test because I found the sound of other people's keyboards, annoying. For a self-confessed "I can't do without any noise" person, this was quite a revelation about myself. Oh and by the way, if you have a helix ear piercing, ear muffs can be quite uncomfortable (important lesson that I learned today).
15. When you hear people talking about a 9 hour long exam that will require them to stay at the testing center from 7 in the morning to 4 in the evening, it is perfectly okay to stop worrying about your own exam for a moment and ask them what test they're taking. This kind of half information will bug you for hours!
16. Four hour long exams can be a pain and not so much fun! But they are timed and one must remember not to get distracted by their engagement ring, or the pretty colored pencil on the table or the cover of their passport.
17. Another lesson learned - wait for a good half hour or so to get the excitement and giddy relief out of your head before you start driving! You deserve that half hour of rest after going through this kind of an experience.
18. Finally, when the brain furiously protests against sleeping at the end of the most tiring day in forever and insists on writing, one shouldn't give in too easily.

The taste of home

On 5th October 2000, my mom and I traveled by air for the first time ever, leaving behind Nagercoil, a beautiful little town in the south of India and landed in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, a city on the west coast of the country which also happens to be the fourth largest city in all of the Arab world. As I looked down through the windows on the plane shortly before landing, my heart sank at the sight of the city surrounded by the dusty, dry desert below. Things did not change much once we left the airport. For a 6 year old me, the fear of getting used to an entirely new country and unfamiliar faces, was growing by the minute. In spite of the growing fear, I was drinking in the sights of the city outside the car window - the tall buildings, the flyovers, the signboards in Arabic, the lights that were being turned on as it grew darker and the absence of greenery. I didn't anticipate it then but in the years to come, that unfamiliar city became more beloved to me than any other place; it became the city that still holds some of my most precious memories; it became the city that watched me grow up and become my own person; it became home. But, on that day and in the couple of years that followed, I was still coming to terms with accepting this place as my new home. However, what I immediately liked about Jeddah, was Al Baik.

For the first half of the year after we moved to Jeddah, one of my dad's closest friends, his wife and their little daughter were the ones who showed me around the city and helped me feel comfortable there. I have spent hours in their car, listening to them share stories about the places we drove by. During one such car ride, I pointed to the store with a bright sign - red in the background and yellow letters that spelled "Al Baik" in Arabic and English, a sign I had seen in multiple places around the city and asked "What is this place? And why is it always so crowded?". That is when they introduced me to what went on to become an integral part of my growing up years (believe me, I'm not exaggerating)!

Al Baik, dear readers, sold the most amazing broasted chicken you would find anywhere in the world (and I say this with absolute conviction). The golden brown chicken with a crispy crust (that can be eaten all by itself) and tender meat beneath, accompanied by fries that taste different from fries I've had before or since, sesame topped bun and garlic sauce, was the meal of choice for most residents of Jeddah. The broasted chicken and garlic sauce form a pair that could only be described as a match made in heaven (I usually stay away from cliches, but there's no other way to explain the perfect combination of Al Baik chicken and garlic sauce). In the year 2000, Al Baik came in two sizes - 4 pieces and 8 pieces of chicken (with accompaniments), sold for SAR 10 (about $3) and SAR 20 (about $6) respectively. The quantity, quality, taste and affordability of Al Baik made it the national (or its equivalent for a city) food of Jeddah. The first time I went to a branch of Al Baik with my dad, I found the place packed with people, and even though I didn't realize it then, extremely efficient staff! With Al Baik, it always is love at first bite!

In the years to come, the franchise expanded. They opened new branches in other western Saudi cities and added to their menu - chicken nuggets, chicken nugget sandwiches, broasted shrimp and a variety of accompaniments. But the taste remained constant and so did the quality. Al Baik has been part of celebrations throughout my 11 years in Jeddah. The most memorable of them are the yearly parties we had in our school bus. We'd collect money from every kid in the bus and pass them on to the bus driver with a list of items to buy. Later in the afternoon, right before he leaves for the school to come pick us up, he'd stop by at a nearby Al Baik and buy the items on the list (usually sandwiches). Us older kids in the bus would leave from class early that afternoon, rush to the bus and make sure that everyone got their food and that we had a concrete plan to have the party be as mess free as possible and to leave the bus as clean as it was that morning. We'd then spend the rest of the bus ride talking, singing and enjoying the food. Similarly, Al Baik has been a part of many, many memories from my time in Jeddah. It was what we ate on arrival in Jeddah after long and tiring flights, when we were famished after performing Umrah (a pilgrimage to Makkah, that can be undertaken at any time of the year), when unexpected guests arrived and when family and friends visited Jeddah for the first time.

It has been six years since I moved away from Jeddah. But every time I visit, on my list of things I'm excited for, Al Baik comes second only to meeting family. My dad makes sure to buy Al Baik for dinner on the day of my arrival and even 17 years later, the taste hasn't changed a bit! After spending all these years away from Jeddah, the taste of Al Baik always manages to bring back a sense of familiarity, comfort and nostalgia!

The Day Before Thanksgiving

Two years ago, after a certain difficult and overloaded semester in college which managed to teach me more life lessons in 3 months than the 21 years that preceded, I told myself that I would not let myself be carried away by the overwhelming speed of the fast paced lives we live. I'd told myself that irrespective of the deadlines and meetings and paperwork and the hundreds of other things on my checklist, I would always find time to sit back, take a deep breath, not worry too much, deal with situations calmly and just appreciate life for what it is - a constellation of blessings! However, forgetfulness and the sheer amount of work it takes for someone to drastically change their outlook towards life, made sure that I never quite reached the goal I set for myself. Then came that highly eventful Thanksgiving break.

Thanksgiving happens to be one of my favorite weekends of the year. I like telling myself that I enjoy the holiday because it is associated with spending time with family and being grateful. But I know very well that it is because of black Friday sales and the fact that Thanksgiving break indicates that December is right around the corner, and December just means "a month of too many days off". So last year, on the day before Thanksgiving, I had set out to work early in the morning. I thought the holiday crowd would either have left the day before or that they would get on the road later that day. I'd assumed that the roads would be free that morning. I'd be at work by 8, finish off everything by 2 and leave before holiday travelers hit the road, thus outsmarting the traffic forces that made life hard for me everyday. Win-win! I was so proud of myself. Two hours later, I found myself stuck in the worst traffic jam I'd ever encountered in my last 2.5 years of driving, taking pictures using every Snapchat filter available that day, trying to smile despite the frustration that was building up. As I waited "patiently" for the traffic to disperse, the upcoming holidays still managing to keep my mood cheerful, I'd forgotten to check the car's fuel levels. I'd made calls to home and work, letting everyone know my status and then sang along to the songs playing on the radio.

The traffic cleared in a while and I was on my way, about 10 minutes away from office when I happened to notice that the fuel levels showed 0 miles remaining. That was my cue to panic and pray that I had enough fuel to reach office and I could refuel the car afterwards. But that was not meant to be and the car started shuddering weirdly in a couple of minutes. So I parked on the shoulder, along the highway, called my insurance company and asked them to send someone with a few gallons of fuel. They took about half an hour to set up the process and told me I'd have to wait 30 minutes before their guy arrives with the fuel. So I waited, on the side of a busy highway that I've never driven slowly on. The fuel guy took an entire hour. I waited there while all the cars sped by on the road. My only choice was to deal with the situation calmly. I was waiting inside a car on the side of a busy highway and panicking in that situation was not an option at all. Since there was nothing else that I could do, the silence and stillness of the situation made me realize the metaphorical implication of that situation.

The highway I parked along, happened to be my favorite stretch of my daily commute. The direction I drove along was against traffic and hence the drive had always been smooth and quick. That day, as I waited there for well over an hour, I saw people that were speeding by, on their way to work or to run an errand or to visit family for the holidays or for last minute shopping. As I watched all this happen, I realized that I was in such a hurry to get to work that morning but in spite of all that planning, God had His own plans and had meant for me to really just stop for a moment and breathe. While I waited, I found myself actually noticing the words to the songs that played on the radio, watching the tiny movements that the tree branches made in the soft breeze blowing that day, hearing the strong gush of wind as the cars sped by, observing the way the bright sunlight reflected off of the metallic panels in the building nearby; and all the other little things that get lost in the rush of the day. In spite of how inconvenient that morning had turned out to be, I found myself really enjoying that break - from work, chores and pretty much every distraction. At the end of the day when I got home and found the entire family worried about how my morning turned out, I looked back at the day and smiled at how relaxing that one hour was.

It was on that day that I realized how rewarding it is to take a break from our daily rush and worries and panic attacks. That morning managed to accomplish what I had been trying to, for over a year. It helped me calm down, learn to manage situations without panicking and just appreciate the little things we often fail to notice. A wise (and unlike me, calm) person once told me, "Life is 10% what happens and 90% how you deal with whatever happens". It was that morning that really changed the way I dealt with things that came my way.

The Numbers on the Scale and Self-worth

A few days ago, pictures taken for an advertisement for the plus-size collection of a clothing brand popped up on my Facebook news feed. On seeing the women they had labeled as "plus-size", I was shocked! Those girls looked like every other girl. They were just not too skinny. Apparently, not skinny did translate to "plus size" . I was appalled at what these brands conveyed to be an ideal body size. Body shaming happens not just through conversations and magazine covers. It also happens in the plus-size sections of stores. And that is the most subtle expression of body shaming.

I had been a chubby kid growing up. The lifestyle in Saudi Arabia where chances of physical activity (especially for women) were low, introduction to high calorie junk foods and the medication I had been taking, for wheezing had all somehow contributed to a sudden weight gain. As an 8 year old girl, my weight, the size of my clothes or the chubbiness of my cheeks - none of those mattered to me. And then we went to India for the summer after 4th grade, the summer I turned 9 and that was when things changed quite a lot. I was told by pretty much everyone in my extended family I met that I was "fat". My cousins made fun of my weight every chance that they got. Every time I ate in front of them, they made a comment regarding my weight and how it had to be because of my food intake. I was also told how my outfits didn't look good on me because I was "fat". I had barely turned 9 at the time. I still vividly remember breaking down in front of my parents. I told them that I wanted to go back to Saudi. I'd had enough of the summer already. Now that I think about it, my cousins were all either my age or a few years older. They didn't know better than to act the way they did. I don't blame them anymore but that summer had wounded me and my confidence.

Every time I visited India for vacations, excited that I'd get to meet my grandparents and visit the places I grew up in, I always came back disappointed. In the trips to India that followed, I received unsolicited advice from relatives. People took the liberty to tell me how I was "fat" and didn't look good because I was "fat". That I should cut down on my food, and follow what their daughters did, so that I could be "slim" like their daughters.. This brought me to a point where if I knew we were having certain guests over, I'd stay in my bedroom until they left.  Life in a small apartment in Saudi Arabia didn't leave much opportunity for physical activity and being in a high school following Indian curriculum meant having to choose between academics and sports, because apparently choosing one meant failing in the other. I still did what I could, and at every chance I had, I tried to cut down on my calorie intake. My best friends are witnesses to all the crazy things I did in order to (if not lose) at least avoid gaining weight. I had this phase where for about a year and a half, I only took fruits to school for lunch. It was monotonous and I was bored within a week but my parents and best friends made it so much easier on me.

When I moved to US for college, I had the opportunity for a lot of physical activity. Long walks in the campus, running to make it in time for the bus/train and guidance from my uncle on the kind of work-outs I could do, helped me reach a healthy body weight. My family helped me learn that every meal, every morsel of food need not make me feel guilty. I slowly started feeling good when I worked out. I started Taekwondo classes and that made me realize that I had a long way to go as far as fitness was concerned - I found even the warm-up exercises hard and sprained my ankle within the first 15 minutes of class. I came back home heart-broken. But, I went back to the classes and forced myself to outdo what I did the previous day. I can now effortlessly do those exercises (and a lot more) that I found so very difficult that first day. I've told myself that I will not judge my body or my fitness level or my self-worth based on the numbers on the scale or the size labels on my clothes. I've begun to teach myself to enjoy sweating it out and to feel energized after a rigorous work out session. I strive to run a little faster than I did the previous day, hold my planks for a few seconds longer and to make sure that my kicks are a little higher. I like being challenged to do something that was hard for me and I accepted that challenge. I feel relaxed after a good work out session and even though I become lazy and skip working out every now and then, I do find a way to re-gain that motivation. I'm far from being completely fit, but I'm making efforts to get there.

Sadly, the word "fat" still makes me nervous. I still feel unsure of myself and my body in the company of all those people who had something to say about my weight. But I'm working on all that. I've taught myself in all these years that "fat" is far from being the worst someone can be. As long as one discusses their weight with their doctor and is in a healthy weight range, being "fat" is alright. I've learnt that one looks good when they carry themselves with confidence and being "fat" or "skinny" doesn't matter there. If you've been body-shamed for being too "fat" or too "skinny", know that your health is what matters. Everything else is secondary. You don't need to gain or lose weight because others make you feel pressurized to do so. As long as you're healthy, gaining or losing weight should absolutely be your choice. Your self-worth is measured by what you're on the inside, not by the numbers on the scale.

Ponniyin Selvan - a story, an experience

If you asked me for one thing that I regret about my schooling, it'd be the fact that I didn't receive a formal education in my native language, Tamil. I learned how to read and write in Tamil at a pretty young age. Yet, I never learned the literature or grammar of the language formally. As a result, all the Tamil I read was in magazines and sign boards when I'm back home in India. I'd started reading Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam's autobiography, The Wings of Fire (Agni Siragugal) in Tamil during my bus rides to and from college. But, being a hard core fiction lover, I never found the motivation to finish it. Also, I couldn't read Tamil as easily or as fast as I could read English and I'd just stopped reading the book. Almost four years later, I was intrigued by a Tamil book named Washingtonil Thirumanam (Wedding at Washington) which was about a Tamil Brahmin wedding happening at Washington DC in the 1960's. The book was short and a fun read. Once I finished reading, I wondered why I hadn't read any other Tamil books. My consistent guilt at being a self-proclaimed avid reader who hasn't read anything in her mother tongue, along with the sudden interest I had towards reading Tamil books, encouraged me to read Ponniyin Selvan. It also happened to be probably the most popular and widely loved Tamil novel of all time. Written by Kalki Krishnamoorthy, this 2400 page long historical fiction was set in the 10th century Chola empire. I immediately ordered the entire set (the book is split into 5 volumes) on Amazon. After placing the order, I wondered if I would even like the book since I didn't particularly enjoy reading historical fiction. Also, reading five volumes would take a lot of dedication towards the book. I still decided to go ahead and give this widely loved story, a try.

When I did start reading the first book and was a few pages into it, I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep reading. Even then, I pushed myself to continue. The fact that this story is so popular also intrigued me and I had to find out what it was all about. A few chapters into the book and I was hooked! I was drawn into the story and for the three long months (yes, it took me that long) that I was reading it, I also led an alternate life, in the palaces and streets of the Chola empire, being part of political conspiracies and adventurous trips. After reading the first half of the first volume, I realized why this story has such a dedicated fan following. I initially wondered why this story would possibly take 2400 pages. But the author takes you on a trip through the Chola empire in Tamil Nadu and from there to Sri Lanka on a boat. Every scene is so brilliantly described with such rich detail that the reader can easily visualize the situations. I'm not a big fan of very detailed descriptions in books. I like for things to be left to the reader's imagination. However I was not disappointed here. The story ended with a lot of open ended questions, and there's no better way to ensure that the readers don't forget the story soon, than to let them figure out the answers to their questions.

The strongest feature of the story are its multi-faceted characters. The best thing about this story is that it does not overly idealize its characters, maybe except for the character the book was named for - Ponniyin Selvan (Raja Raja Chola I). Interestingly, the book was not named after its title character. The title character is a brave, loyal, witty young man named Vandhiyathevan. The book follows him as he travels through the Chola kingdom to visit the King with a message from his son, the crown prince. Without him realizing, Vandhiyathevan finds himself in the midst of a political conspiracy that would change life as they knew it in the Chola kingdom. As he travels through the kingdom, he meets a lot of interesting people but I was delighted at the fact that the most interesting of them all were the six women he met - Kundavai, Vanathi, Nandini, Poonguzhali, Mandakini and Manimegalai. It was absolutely refreshing to read a story with six strong female characters who were pivotal in driving the plot! Each one of these women were so different from each other. In a way, they were representative of the women we see around us. Not all six of them had always been courageous and strong willed and opinionated, but when the time came, they rose to the occasion and displayed extraordinary courage and determination! 

I have always been hesitant to read books that have a lot of hype surrounding them. I usually start reading these books with a lot of expectations and am left disappointed. However this time, I glad I decided to give this story a try. It was not only a wonderful reading experience but has also left me feeling a little closer to Tamil, almost like discovering a connection to my mother tongue that had weakened over time! For a person like me, who fantasizes about traveling the world one day, the road trip-like (or the 10th century equivalent of it, anyway) nature of the story was an absolute treat! Some stories pull you into their world as you read, some stories stay with you long after you finish reading them and some stories make you wish you had met the characters in them. When you find a story that fits into all three categories, it's just perfect! Ponniyin Selvan is one such story.

Before You Pull the "Victim Card"...

Four and a half years ago, before I moved to the US to start college, my dad sat me down and asked me if I really wanted to wear the hijab in America. He was concerned that wearing the hijab would make me stand out in a crowd and be an easy target for anyone harboring hatred towards Muslims. Having grown up in Saudi Arabia, I had started wearing the hijab in my pre-teens. However, I had found a strong connection with the hijab only two or three years before and my bond with the hijab was in its early stages when I was asked the question. For some reason, I was firm on my decision to wear the headscarf and told my dad not to worry and that I'd be fine. To me, more than anything else, my decision to wear the hijab was a big one and I didn't want to belittle that decision by undoing it so soon. In the years to come, I've often thought of that conversation I had with my dad and I understood the reason behind his question and his concern. I admit I had my concerns too. Upon landing in the US, I loosened my hijab before going to the immigration counter, in a moment of uncertainty when I didn't want to take off my hijab but at the same time felt highly self-conscious and to a certain extent unsafe, in it. However, today I'm so grateful for the experiences I've had in the US as a Hijabi - mostly good ones, a stark difference from the tales I've heard which were full of hatred and intolerance.

During my nearly five years in the US, Islamophobia has risen and fallen and has been a matter of serious concern these last six months or so. I've traveled alone in the metro for over 3 years, early in the mornings and late in the evenings, in packed buses and empty train cars, while wearing my hijab. I'm grateful that I've never felt uncomfortable or unsafe because of my hijab. However, on the day the Paris attacks happened in November 2015, everyone around me was concerned and advised me to be extra cautious when I was outside home by myself. To quote what my uncle told me that day, "there is such a thing as being in the wrong place at the wrong time while wearing a hijab in this country." I went grocery shopping the next day and I felt like everyone was looking at me suspiciously; it may have just been paranoia, but it felt like all the eyes were on me. I came home that day and felt shaken, self-conscious and maybe even scared. I live in the DC metro area, minutes from the nation's capital, home to thousands of Muslims and many, many Hijabis. When I was at university, I could find a person donning the headscarf anywhere on campus, at any time. I'd never felt isolated as a Muslim girl who wore the hijab. Then what changed that day? An inhuman act by a group of individuals who claimed to follow my faith, but acted against its most basic principles, thousands of miles away? Or was it the fact that I felt insecure, self-conscious, a tinge of self-pity and isolation? I soon figured out that it was the latter. I also learned an important lesson that day - once you start feeling victimized, fear gets to you and then it'll seem as if everything and everyone is conspiring against you.

I walked out of home everyday following that incident with my head held high, and extremely confident about myself. I promised myself that if I do encounter unpleasant behavior from people, I wouldn't jump to conclusions and blame it all on my being a Muslim. I've heard people recount stories of how some stranger didn't smile at them or spoke to them in an annoyed tone. Such stories always concluded stating that it was an action that stemmed from Islamophobia. Honestly, that person could have had a bad day or maybe they did not smile often or maybe they simply disliked social interaction in general. Let's not attribute these little things to Islamophobia. Let's not start thinking that the world is conspiring against us. Once we get into that kind of mindset, life gets hard. One begins to look at the world with suspicious eyes, stops trusting fellow humans and loses all faith in humanity. And most importantly, it brings along self pity. There is nothing more efficient than self pity in destroying a person's confidence and determination. I understand that people are facing discrimination all over the world because of their ethnicity, religious beliefs, sexual orientation and many other reasons. But we need to be able to differentiate between an actual case of discrimination and other trivial matters. Being part of a minority can be unfortunate, especially in times when people are garnering popularity by spreading hatred. However, never lose faith in who you truly are, as clichéd as that may sound. Embrace that which makes you different, don't let go of your place in the world and believe that you belong. Whether or not you give someone else the power to make you doubt yourself (and the rest of the world) is your choice- make the right one. It is equally important to not feel victimized without reason as it is to not victimize. Once doubt settles in, it destroys any traces of self-assurance and hope. Please don't do that to yourselves.

E M Hanifa

Music has been an integral part of my life for as long as I can remember. My parents are both excellent singers with beautiful voices and I'd never stop complaining about how I didn't inherit either of their melodious voices. My grandmother can come up with a song for every situation and my uncle is an ardent music lover. I fell asleep to some of the most sweetly and softly sung lullabies, and maybe that is the reason why I associate most of my memories to the music I enjoyed at the time. Tamil songs from the 80's have this quality of recreating an India-like atmosphere anywhere, even inside study rooms at my university in the US, a bland room with nothing but four white walls. Tamil songs from the 90's bring back the early days of my childhood, the ones I spent in India when the songs were newly released. Some songs bring back memories of a particular road trip during which I heard them on a loop and others still take me to those vacations when I killed the repeat button on my MP4 player (a device from the first decade of the 21st century, that most kids probably don't know about these days), listening to the same song repeatedly. However, there are a set of songs, a voice and several words that have been the background score to some of my fondest memories, that comfort me when I'm disturbed, which taught me my earliest spiritual lessons and still put me to sleep every night. I'm talking about E.M Nagoor Hanifa, the man whose songs have been played in every Tamil Muslim household for years now; whose songs create a spiritual connection between oneself and their Lord, and whose songs are an essential part of an entire community's celebrations and festivities.

The earliest memory I have of Eid is that of our neighborhood being lit up with colorful lights and Hanifa's songs playing on the speaker. His song brought about the festive mood and filled the air with excitement and festivity. To me, of all the Eids I've celebrated, none have been complete without his music. Even when I'm not celebrating Eid in India, I like to play his songs the previous day in an attempt to recreate that festive atmosphere. One of my favorite memories is that of my grandmother teaching me his popular song, "Iraivanidam Kaiyendhungal". I was in third grade at the time, and I wanted to participate in the school singing competition. The theme for that year was spiritual songs and this was the only song to pop into my mind. Since there was no Google at the time, my grandmother took me to her cousin who knew the lyrics to it. He wrote the words down and gave it to us. My grandmother then taught me how to sing the whole song, which ultimately led to my winning that competition. However, that was not the best thing to come out of that experience. The words to that track were one of my first ever spiritual lessons and stayed with me forever, the belief that God never denies you anything, if only you remember to ask Him for it and wait patiently. The simple lines are easy to understand even for a little kid. Yet, the message they carry is absolutely precious!

Over the years, the songs have had a surprisingly calming effect on me every time I felt uneasy or restless. It was never the lyrics. After that first time when I learned the song for that competition, I never paid close enough attention to the words to truly grasp their meaning. But they still calmed me. It could be the voice; but I think it was the memories and the emotions I associated with his tunes. When I was 10, my mom's cousin brought her a CD of these tracks. My mom played the CD at home pretty often and thus those tunes became an integral part of my growing up years. It was only recently that I started paying attention to the lyrics and regretted that I hadn't done so earlier. In an effort to learn more about my faith, I spend a few hours every week listening to learned Islamic scholars explain various aspects of the religion and many of them do leave a lasting impact on me. But, it could be the fact that the words are in Tamil, or it could be the tune, or the voice or the soul in these songs; but the words to Hanifa's songs have moved me to tears, and they reaffirm my faith in God and His mercy every time I listen to them. It could be when he talks about how we can never be thankful enough to God for all that He's done for us; about how God never ignores our prayers as long as we are persistent; about the Prophet (Peace Be Upon Him) and his life; about the very basis of what our faith is based on, La Ilaha illa Allah (there is no God but Allah); or about how this world and life are temporary stops on the way to our eternal home; but these words do leave a long-lasting impact on the listener.

One of his tracks, "Nee Koduthatharkke", is 8 and a half minutes of absolute therapy! It reminds one of all of God's blessings, the reasons one has, to be thankful to God even on the gloomiest of days. Whenever I hear the words, 'Inbam thunbam irandilum un rahmatayae virithai, antha unmai thannai unara vaithu, unathu pakkam izhuthaai' (You've hidden your blessings in both happiness and sorrow, and have invited us to your path by shedding light on that truth), I tear up- every single time. When I received news of E M Hanifa's death last year, it hit me hard, as though someone I knew personally had passed away. The voice and words have that much of a place in my life. On those mornings when I really don't look forward to the rest of the day and those evenings when all the day's stress weigh down on me, his songs are what fill me with peace and comfort my soul.