When a 12-Yr Old Girl Shames The Learned and the Famed

Victoria Grant, at twelve years of age has wisdom that surpasses the collective wisdom of hundreds and thousands of North Americans who inhabit both Canada and the USA.

Speaking at a recent Public Banking Institute conference Victoria said, “What I’ve discovered is that bank and the government has colluded to financially enslave the people of Canada.” She then shared the “important point of references” that would encourage people to do research on their own and give them the ammunition to engage the government to stop the criminal act by the Canadian government against Canadian people. Further she pointed out to the fact that it made no sense that government would give power to a monopoly private bank to create money and then borrow it from them, when they themselves can do it.

Although Victory was describing the Canadian government and its monetary system, her arguments are equally applicable to this country. She might as well be describing our Fed—a private monopoly entrusted with the authority to create money and then lend it to the government with interest.

The question is if a 12-yr old Victoria gets it why don't a vast number of learned adults get it? The answer is simple—we are not smarter than 12-year old Victoria. We are the sheeple fighting between ourselves allowing the criminal banksters rob us with the connivance of the lying thieving politicians.

Please watch the video to see how artfully Victoria speaks!

First published on Technorati

Just released, the book is available on Amazon.com

Never Had a Chance to Say Goodbye

My first work of fiction

"With dawn breaking, Henna and Osman leave their home for a pleasant drive to Sakrand, but by day’s end they find themselves lost in a dense jungle with a near-empty gas tank and no clear direction. Plowing ahead with only a full moon to guide them, a palace set in an expansive clearing appears miraculously. There they meet the vacationing Undersecretary His Highness Al Kindy of Abu Dhabi Water & Electricity Department, who offers Osman a job at the Department.

Osman arrives in Abu Dhabi alone, but soon befriends three other expatriate engineers. Though the men embrace four different religions their close relationship continues to flourish after their families arrive. When Osman meets with a great tragedy, he is devastated. Soon after, a power crisis threatens to cripple the country. Can Osman overcome his grief and save his adopted country’s officials from humiliation, and his coworkers from losing their jobs?"

Having Money Provides Freedom To Say Anything

What did Foster Friess, the multi-millionaire who financed a significant portion of Rick Santorum's failed presidential bid, actually mean when he said he hoped that President Obama's "teleprompters are bulletproof”?

Friess made that statement to Lou Dobbs on Wednesday on Fox Business News. I am sure every right wing nut considers Fox News, which is really Fox propaganda for the Republicans, as safe home. Of course, he soon realized it was not an appropriate comment on a national TV, therefore, he added "I mean that figuratively," after a brief silence. And he went on to say, “I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have said that.”

To Dobbs credit, he responded with, "No, you should not have said it," and went on to mitigate the damage by saying, "We understand it's a metaphor." Friess was the “front-and-center” in the Santorum campaign, often appearing with the candidate in his cowboy hat at campaign events. He donated nearly $1.7 million into the pro-Santorum Super PAC and his philosophy complements Rick Santorum’s nicely. Just consider an earlier comment by Friess made to Andrea Mitchell on MSNBC, “Back in my days, they used Bayer aspirin for contraceptives. The gals put it between their knees, and it wasn't that costly.” Yes, it is the same comment made famous by the dittohead Rush Limbaugh in his Sandra Fluke lambasting.

But why talk about Friess when Santorum folded shop? Because, with Santorum out of the GOP nomination race, Friess said he will shift his support to Mitt Romney and open his coffer to his campaign.

Foster Friess’ comments may be a slip of tongue for him, but it shows what the Republican right wings truly have in their hearts. And what about consequences to these irresponsible remarks? Does anyone remember when Sarah Palin released a map featuring Gabrielle Giffords (D-Ariz.) with a crosshairs images to show her districts, among twenty other democrats? Giffords got shot, and although she survived, her life was totally destroyed and she had to resign from the House seat.

The question is how do these right wing crackpots get away with their comments? Of course, the answer is – money. When you have loads of it you can get away with lot of incendiary comments for which ordinary citizens will be condemned for life.

First published on Technorati.

Paul Ryan's Budget: Rob Poor To Pay Rich

Don’t tell me there is no difference between the Democrats and Republicans, not according to this budget vote in which only 10 Republicans joined 181 Democrats voting against the bill. Yes, you are right, not a single Democrat voted to "rob poor to pay the rich."

Beauty may be in the eyes of the beholder, however, if anyone fails to see the beauty in the budget proposed by Paul Ryan, the poster boy of the Republican Party, the person must be blind, for it kills two birds with one stone.

At one side it makes the poor, poorer by cutting budgets that provide safety net to the poorest, on the other, it lowers taxes for the uper rich from a current top rate of 35 percent to 25 percent, making them even richer. Corporations would also enjoy the same reduction along with significant lowering of tax rates on profits earned overseas, paving the way for further transfer of jobs overseas.

Speaking in simple words, the Rayan budget does everything opposite to what should be done to remedy the ills that have befallen the nation. This is the trickle down philosophy of Reagan which was called voodoo economics by George H Bush.

Ryan plan would increase eligibility age for Medicare from 65 to 67 and destroy Medicaid as we know it. It would cut food stamps, and set a deadline for the recipients to find work and get off the subsistence, and while it does that it increases the defense budget allocation. How much do we really spend on food stamps? The total welfare programs as of 2010 was 11 percent of the U.S. budget, food stamps was just a part of that expense under the broad umbrella of welfare, where as military budget accounts for 54 percent of the federal funds. and this money is blown mostly outside the country while the inner cities are crumbling, infrastructures are falling apart.
Spending on Pell grants would be reduced re-targeting the students from low-income families who need the assistance most. And with all these draconian measures, what are we going to achieve? The Ryan proposal slashes federal spending by only about $3.3 trillion more compared to Obama’s budget plan.

The leading GOP presidential nominee Mitt Romney endorsed the Ryan plan calling it “a bold and exciting effort,” while for the other contender Rick Santorum, the draconian cuts did not go far enough!

The White House response came from the Communications Director Dan Pfeiffer: “The House budget once again fails the test of balance, fairness and shared responsibility. It would shower the wealthiest few Americans with an average tax cut of at least $150,000. The plan would cut spending on the major programs for the poor, including Medicaid and food stamps, while giving the states greater responsibility for their administration.”

Anyone interested to see the game the conservative Republicans are playing, may check this site for further details on the plan. If this budget does not open the eyes of the 99 percenters, if people still do not understand whom the Republicans serve, they never will.

First published on Technorati.

With Broken Bodies and Tears, They Live On

Why are we here? What is the purpose of our lives? How are we to achieve our salivation? I have spent multiple decades in search of finding answers to those questions, wrote a book, One God in You and Me, and yet, let me make a confession—haven’t found the answers.

The now 17 year old Hashi, (the word connotes smile—what a joke!) who was sold into prostitution only at the age of 10 and virtually a sex slave, forced to take steroids and satisfy up to 15 men on some nights, at Kandapara's brothel, may not inquire those questions, for she has no free time to ponder on those lofty thoughts. But are there any sensitive persons in Bangladesh who do—in a country, where over eighty percent people are Muslims, and Islam is the de-facto undeclared state religion?

Nita Bhalla wrote, “Their faces painted heavy with make-up, teenage girls in short, tight blouses and long petticoats loiter in squalid alleys, laughing and gesturing to potential clients who roam Tangail town's infamous red light area in the early evening. There is no shortage of men looking for "company" in Kandapara slum, a labyrinth of tiny lanes - lined cheek-by-jowl with corrugated iron shacks - a few hours’ drive northeast of Bangladesh's capital, Dhaka.”

Hashi is merely one of the 900 sex workers in Kandapara, where some girls are as young as 12 and their lives are bonded in debt, and the social stigma they have would ensure they would never have the normal lives of women in society. They are usually brought to the brothel emaciated and forced to take the dangerous cow fattening drug Dexamethasone, or, Oradexon so that they develop curves before their age, to attract clients.

With the going rates as low as 60 U.S. cents, the need to attract as many customers as possible is just the prescription for bare survival, the girls have no choice. “My sardarni (madam) forced me to take a tablet. She beat me up and stopped giving food. She threatened me and reminded me about my loans, Hashi said. She has a four-year-old son, whom she has not seen in two years, yet, she wants to save money for him. “In this brothel, customers always look for healthy girls. I take Oradexon. I need customers so I can pay my bills and loans. If I don't get any customers one day, I cannot eat in the next day. I wish to save some money for my son.”

These girls are often abducted from their poor, rural families and then sold to the brothels by the traffickers, for as little as $245 at times. The traffickers, the madams, the brothel owners, and the people who allow this to continue—are all Muslims. If Islam is the greatest religion of the world which is supposedly to turn “men into hearts of gold” surely it had failed miserably, just as all other religions have.

To the Muslims who come forward to defend their faith, and sometimes even the people of other religions who question me, why is this diatribe against Islam? My answer to them is, as a person born into this faith, I have every right to question these issues in Islam, surely more than any non-Muslim, and especially as one who knows its culture, practices and philosophy in a profound manner.

First published on Technorati.

Don't Cry For Kucinich, America

After sixteen years, the US Congress will be without one the finest sons that this country has ever produced in politics; don't cry for Dennis J. Kucinich, America, cry for yourselves!

At a time, when the country needed one of its kindest souls the most, the man who was a voice to the millions of voiceless Americans, the man whose love for peace and humanity was beyond question, has been left to waste. The Republicans have finally succeeded to dethrone a man with a political game, whom they could not defeat in election.

Two democrats, Kaptur and Kucinich were pitted against each other as their seats were combined as a result of congressional redistricting process. The need for redistricting rose as Ohio had lost two congressional districts, because of population loss according to the 2010 U.S. Census, Ohio lost two congressional districts and the borders of the remaining districts were redrawn. The GOP combined the 9th and the 10th districts represented by Kaptur and Kucinich respectively.

After becoming a young mayor of Cleveland at the age of 31, he was thrown out of office by the conspiracy of big money. It was in the late '70s, when the finances of the city were in dire state, like it was in most of the country. Major banks had approached Kucinich with an offer they thought were irresistible, but he was not a man to be sold, he refused to privatize the local utility, and the city defaulted. His popularity tanked, and he was thrown out of office only after two years of being sworn in. His political demise was all but certain.

However, as the people of Cleveland saw what privatization had done to other cities that went ahead with the bankers' scripts, how the people had paid dearly, and how Kucinich's decision had saved the city and its populace millions of dollars over the years, they reevaluated him and reconstituted his political life.

This election saw again what big money can do, how the Koke brothers determined efforts to spend unprecedented amount of money could poison people against an upright man. After the election, Kucinich himself said, “I would like to be able to congratulate Congresswoman Kaptur but I do have to say that she ran a media campaign in the Cleveland media market that was utterly lacking in integrity with false statements half truths, [and] misrepresentations. I hope that is not the kind of representation she would provide to this community. And I don't think the people of Toledo have any idea of the kind of campaign that was run up in the Cleveland area.”

There is no place for decent and honest politicians in America anymore!

Previously published on Technorati .

She (Palin) Can’t Take It Anymore, Can We?

I never thought of Sarah Palin as more than an airhead, yet reading about her anguish I feel empathy for her. I have a feeling that she is no worse than as we collectively are; she is perhaps just a victim of our culture and our fondness of vainglory.

Clearly, even though she was not a political material she was offered the VP candidacy of a major political party, in this I feel the establishment as guilty to exploit her charm and naiveté, as she was. Let me ask, how many of you would forsake this kind of opportunity, if offered?

This article tells all about it, her personal struggle, our political system, and the torment she had to go through. It describes how in the final months of her governorship, Sarah Palin was frustrated over the infighting with state lawmakers and how she felt as a victim, crying out in agony: “I can't take it anymore.”

Palin currently works as a commentator for Fox News; I do not agree with her views, and I believe she just reads and repeats some others’ opinions, because they think she appeals to some amongst us. And I do not fault her, how many of us would reject such an opportunity to earn money?

We have constructed our society, where principles, morality, humanity, and humility—the most important teaching of the Christ, have taken backseat. Christ taught us to forgive someone seventy times seven, which was just an old expression for infinity, and we go on destroying houses of innocent civilians all over the world.

Don’t blame the Republicans, Democrats, or even the Corporations—it is our shared guilt.

I am not asking you to cry for Sarah Palin, I am asking you to cry for yourself, and for our collective stupidity that allow the exploiters to exploit us and perpetuate their crime on humanity.


The article was first published on Technorati .

Great Sons Of An Impoverished Country

The name of Bangladesh in the world stage conjures up the picture of outstretched hands of rickety kids holding begging bowls, flood ravaged habitats, or, haunting eyes of old distressed women who have lost it all to the rages of nature. Millions struggle there every day just to keep their heads above water.

One man rose all above this, made a bold declaration to the world—we can overcome poverty—and showed the world how it can be done. His model was adopted by the United Nations, and implemented in far and remote countries. He was showered with honor everywhere he went.

He earned the coveted Nobel Prize for his country; yet, the political hacks in his country were hell bent to draw his name in the mud, and they began a relentless propaganda war against him with all state machinery at their disposal—the name is Muhammad Yunus.

Now, another name has risen in the world arena to make Bangladesh proud, and this time it is a young boy who has brought that honor to his country. The name is Shakib Al Hasan—meet the numero one test Cricket all rounder of the world. This he has achieved after being the top all rounder in the world of one-day Cricket for many years now.
Bangladeshi Cricketers are known as tigers. People might have mistakenly given them that name looking only at Shakib—the lone ranger among a bunch of pure amatures!

Bangladesh Cricket team is a joke in the world arena, a perpetual whipping object for all and sundry. To understand the magnitude of Shakib’s achievement, I would offer one comment of a reader, who said, “It is important to note that Shakib does not get a chance to play against a team like Bangladesh and he bowls to defend small scores.” The reader went on to compare Shakib with The South African great, Jacques Kallis, whom Shakib just dethroned to earn his new crown: “I think as a bowler, Shakib is better than Kallis, but batsman Kallis is probably better than Shakib. Also Shakib comes to bat when Bangladesh is 50 for 4 or so, but Kallis bats with much less pressure.”

I think this reader has said it all. Batting under pressure always affects performance, and a lion’s share of Shakib’s innings are played under pressure, since Bangladesh’s top order only fulfill the role of passive passengers, spending most time in pavilion than on the crease. Shakib often plays the role of one maverick, and it falls on him to pull up his team with a shoestring, against all adversaries.

His performance with the ball has to be measured with the consideration that when one really produces a great spell, it is usually the bowler from the other end who gets wickets. Successful bowlers always work in tandem. In Bangladesh team however, in the absence of Mashrafi Murtaza, there is no one else who can throw the ball to trouble batsmen as much as Shakib does. Therefore, Shakib’s quality as a bowler perhaps would have been better recognized if he would have bowled in pair with another bowler of his caliber.

The best of Shakib is his temperament. When he was shabbily treated by the BCB selectors, and was stripped of Captaincy, for no failure of his, it was easy for him to go downhill. Exactly that is what happened to another very talented Bangladeshi, former vice-captain Tamim Iqbal. But Shakib rose from the ashes like a sphinx to conquer the world.
Please wish him your very best; he is just a young man of 24.

First Published on Technorati .

My Kind Of Santa

What kind of gift is better than the gift of life? That is what this Santa gave, when he found a man in a burning truck.

A former fire fighter, Brad Luddeke was in full costume, on the way to deliver toys to some needy children near Dallas, when he came upon a burning truck. He was all decked up in his Santa outfit, but that did not stop him from pulling out the driver from the burning truck just before it exploded, risking his own life in the process. And Brad did not stop at that. He then took over the duty of directing people away from the burning truck.

Only yesterday I wrote House Republicans Demonstrate Once More They are Only To Serve The 1%. While writing that article I was seething with rage—what kind of people would raise tax on 160 million people in order to save a few silvers for a few thousand super rich? It was House Speaker John Boehner and the minority leader Eric Cantor who did this disservice to this nation. The US is my adopted home, but I take pride in its institutions, and the rich culture of its tradition of giving out to the needy and downtrodden without question or consideration on the giver’s own need. I believe this tradition is continuation of the spirit of Jesus, and I feel happy that this is a Christian country.

Time and again, I have found stories, where a white person had given a kidney to a poor unfamiliar black person. Stories of people rising above and beyond their means to help strangers have humbled me to ponder on my own self, and become a better person with the effort. And every time that happens, I get one step closer to my creator, drenching my soul in humility.

Then I see a Boehner, and a Cantor, and a few self-serving politicians, and all my emotions rise up to engulf me with anger, over pouring me, all humbleness going out the window.

Then one Luddeke brings me back to my own inner peace, and my faith in humanity is restored. I feel in my heart of heart, so long there is one Brad Luddeke left in this country, the country has a future.

Merry Christmas!

First published on Technorati .

Shall We Boycott Lowe’s?

America may be the land of the brave and free, but off late the braves had been cowered into submission in the name of terror, and the word free sounds more and more as joke—ask the veteran OWS protestor in Oakland who was taken to ICU after being hit by a police projectile. Therefore, when a US Senator called on the CEO of Lowe's to apologize to American Muslims for ‘bigoted, shameful’ actions, I say wow, where does this guy come from?

The maverick is State Sen. Ted W. Lieu, a Democrat from Torrance, California. He was commenting in the aftermath of the North Carolina based Lowes’ action to stop advertising on TLC's “All-American Muslim” after a conservative group, Florida Family Association (FMA) complained that the program was “propaganda that riskily hides the Islamic agenda's clear and present danger to American liberties and traditional values.”

Muslims as peoples are the punching bag of the USA, ask Representative Peter King (R-NY), chairman of the House and Senate Homeland Security committees, who told Sean Hannity in an interview, “no American Muslim leaders are cooperating in the war on terror,” and that "80-85 percent of mosques in this country are controlled by Islamic fundamentalists .... This is an enemy living amongst us.”

I was not surprised when the Florida group sent three emails to its members, asking them to petition Lowe’s to pull its advertising. The TLC show chronicles what it's like to be a Muslim in America, and it often portrays the discrimination the Muslims face in this country. FMA’s website was updated to reflect that the “supporters' emails to advertisers make a difference.” Accordingly, FMA just proved the point highlighted in the TV show.

Sen. Ted Lieu wrote, “I am writing regarding Lowe’s action of pulling its advertising from Discovery Channel/TLC’s show “All-American Muslim” because of complaints from the Florida Family Association that “All-American Muslim is propaganda that riskily hides the Islamic agenda’s clear and present danger to American liberties and traditional values.” Lowe’s action is bigoted, shameful, and un-American. I call on Lowe’s to rescind its action and apologize to Americans who are Muslim. If Lowe’s continues its religious bigotry, I will encourage boycotts of Lowe’s and look into legislative remedies.”

Lieu went on to scribe, “Lowe’s action is profoundly ignorant. Islam is a peaceful religion practiced by over 1.5 billion people, including Americans across our great nation and Lowe’s own employees. As President Bush declared, and President Obama reaffirmed, America is not at war with Islam.”

Lieu further clarified, “America is, however, at war with people who pose a clear and present danger, whether they are white separatists like Timothy McVeigh (who happened to be Catholic); mass shooters such as Seung-Hui Cho at Virginia Tech ; or members of the Revolutionary People’s Liberation Army (a Marxist-Leninist group that has targeted US interests with suicide bombings). Lowe’s bigoted action conflates peaceful religions with dangerous people who use peaceful religions (or political ideology) to advance their agenda."

Where does Lieu get this courage to defend a minority community in such force? I say, the strength comes from our constitution, and our culture of tolerance at the grassroots level. The America we are proud of is because of our people, and despite our leaders. American people’s keen sense of justice, desire for religious freedom, and willingness to help the weak is deeply ingrained in their blood. That is exactly the reason, I wrote: Please Do Not Destroy This Country.

First published on Technorati.

When The Dictators Fall

The year is 2011, well past the first decade of the 21st century. We have supposedly come a long way from the days of kings and princes, and transformed into the modern world of presidents and prime ministers, where people are to choose their leaders by an instrument called election. Yet, he was a prince, designated to be the successor of his father, who had deposed a king only to assume the role himself, although called himself the President of his country.

The young prince had his education in the London School of Economics, earning a PhD, and had earned the reputation of a modern day reformer by engaging himself in benevolent acts. But when the time came that would test his mettle, he turned a faithful obliging supporter of his dictator father taking part in crushing his own people.

He was a brave leader, who announced on national television that he would fight for his country till the last drop of blood drains his body. He was full in vim and vigor, resolute in his promise, yet, when his captors zeroed on him he meekly surrendered without firing a single bullet. Like an obedient servant he complied with the order of his captors, and let them take over several Kalashnikov rifles and a hand grenade—he was the prince charming Saif al-Islam Gaddafi, the most brazen son of Cornell Gaddafi.

“At the beginning he was very scared. He thought we would kill him,” said Ahmed Ammar, one of the 15 Libyan fighters who captured Saif al-Islam.

Afraid? This rubble rousing patriotic Lion-of-Libya afraid of a few young ragtag army of ordinary Libyans? Did he not say in his own words that he would fight to the last? Did he not promise to squash the freedom fighters like bugs?

Saif al-Islam was caught in the dark of night, fleeing his country in a Toyota Land Cruiser, with a few accomplishes, following in another vehicle. This is how the end came of a mighty man!

Saif al-Islam proved once again that people like him are just plain cowards, whose strength is derived from the support of their henchmen. Once they are isolated, they are paper tigers!

His father, Muammar was found taking shelter in a drainage pipe, when captured. Another Arab hero Saddam Hossain was pulled out of a rat hole—these are supposedly legendary Arab leaders, whose end was more cowardly than legend-like.

It is said, the larger they are, the harder they fall. Most dictators finally meet violent end, at the end though they fall like chickens than lions.

If there are any true heroes in the Arab lands, they are on Arab streets, braving the assault of professional armed goons. They are the people who are demonstrating for their rights, for their freedom, walking on streets in their broken bodies. They carry the one's who are fallen by army bullets, to safety, and keep walking, braving all brutality. These Arab heroes are inspiration to the whole world. More and more people worldwide are following in their foot steps, in far off lands.

All people can be subjugated for sometime, some people can be subjugated for all time, but all people can not be subjugated for all times!

First published on Technorati

A Little Girl Spends Two Days With Her Dead Mother

Life often presents its own strange tales and some of them move us more than others. Imagine a 3-year-old girl living in a house alone for two days, with none except her dead mother. When hungry she ate cheese, some lasagna that was left over from her mother’s last meal, and milk. Beside her dead mother’s body what gave her company was her favorite toy, a teddy bear named "Possum."

It happened in New Zealand, where the toddler lived with her mother Lauren Silbery, who was only 28 at the time of death. Authorities found the little Shylah Silbery only when the girl's uncle, Pete Silbery, alerted them through a friend who lived nearby. Pete had not spoken with Lauren in two days and he was worried. He called a friend who lived near their Wellington home. The friend came to visit the house, but the house was locked. Only the little girl was visible from outside, but there was no sign of her mother. When Pete got that news he called police.

Police came in and talked Shylah into unlocking the main door. They asked her to drag a coffee table to the door and stand on it so that she could reach the lock and unlock it, saving them from breaking the door. "Mummy does not wake up," that's all she could tell them. Shylah was treated in a hospital for several days and she recovered well from the dehydration and diaper rash that she had suffered.

Shylah has no idea of what she has lost. When her mother’s coffin was being lowered into the grave, she pointed at it and said, “Mummy's in there.” Many years later, she would remember this day, and will feel sad about it. Perhaps she would cry over her loss then, for now she is okay though. They will tell her stories about her mother—that she has gone to bring her toys, or, milk, and will be home soon, and she will believe them.

Until that day, when she is big enough to realize that her mother had gone to heaven, she would not cry for her.

First published on Technorati.

Mirza Beg And The Two Women

On an idyllic summer evening Firoze was taking a gingerly stroll in the small garden in front of his apartment building. The sun was about to set, but the air was still warm and humid. Watching butterflies hovering over the rich bed of yellow-red marigolds, he was lost in his own thoughts when a female voice interrupted him.

Firoze looked back and saw two women walking towards him, one clad in burqa, covering head to toe; only her eyes were visible. The other attired in a simple green cotton sari.
From their dress they appeared to be from a working class family.
As they came closer, the burqa lady asked, “Can you please tell us where the hujur lives?”
“Hujur?” Firoze was surprised, he shot back, “Hujur who?”
The burqa lady tried to explain, “We are coming from the other side of the town, we heard that hujur lives here, somewhere close to this apartment building.”

People from Indian subcontinent often address religious leaders and scholars as huzur.
Firoze was still amazed, “Yes, but hujur who?” “What is his name?”
“The hujur of the mosque in that next block, the Imam.”
It dawned on Firoze that the two ladies were asking him about the man who leads prayer in that corner mosque.

The Big Apple is the melting pot of diverse cultures. This city still keeps its promise with destiny to feed the hungry, and clothe the naked. People who have no acquaintance in America still lands up here thinking that they have a better chance to find someone from his own community, who can help them.

A significant part of Queens has become a mini Bangladesh. Most stores here are operated by people of Bangladeshi origin. Even the local mosques are controlled by Bangladeshi expatriates. Sometime back, the local mosque had hired a man for conducting daily religious services, his name is Mirza Beg.

Mirza Beg came to this country with OP 1 visa. He could not find a job since he did not have any marketable assets. When he first came to the city he did not know anyone. He took shelter in a mosque. The Imam of the mosque was from Pakistan. He felt sorry for the poor man, and took him under his wing.

The Imam groomed Mirza as his assistant. He taught him how to read Arabic, especially as it pertains to Quran. He spent time with him teaching important verses of the holy book. He taught him how to conduct various religious functions, and he let Mirza lead prayers with small congregations.

When the new mosque opened up in this part of Queens, Mirza came to know about it. He approached the local mosque committee. The committee needed someone to perform the obligatory jamat (congregation) prayers as ordained in Islam. Mirza offered to accept the job with a nominal pay, and a place to stay, at one corner of the building. The committee gave him the job, considering that hiring him would save them some money.

Mirza Beg is street smart, adept at village politics. Within a few months he managed to get a large raise by befriending a few members of the mosque committee, and playing them against other members to do his bidding.

Firoze thought the ladies must be asking about him.
He said, “Oh! Perhaps you are asking about Mirza Beg. He is however, neither huzur nor Imam, and he has a name—Mirza Beg. Are you looking for him?”
“Yes, yes,” the burqa-lady spoke with a relieved tone, “yes, we are looking for him.” “Can you tell us where he lives?”
Curiosity took the better of Firoze, and after a few moments of hesitation he asked, “May I know why you want to see him?”
The burqa lady went silent. She was thinking if she should tell a stranger why she wanted to see Mirza Beg.
Surprisingly, she spoke soon, in a slow voice, “I am having a problem pregnancy, I want to see the huzur for his doa (blessing).

Mirza did not finish high school in Bangladesh. Neither did he have any traditional education from a madrassa. His knowledge on religious discourse was limited. What Beg lacked in knowledge, he overcame with his demeanor. His beard is longer than the depth of his religious scholarship.
Some of his beards are turning white, he applies henna on them. This in turn increases his religious stature in the mind of some people. A man who follows the prophet’s sunna must be a pious man, they think. He dresses impeccably for his position—pajama that does not cover his heels, and long shirts, following the tradition of the Imams. His head is always covered in Kashmiri cap. It was not long before he started having a following.

The sweet talking Beg is now a popular man. The working class Bangladeshi men and women of the neighborhood treat him with the respect of a religious scholar. Beg is in high demand in the Bangladeshi community for performing various religious functions.

The new immigrants are mostly poor, and poor people need God more than the well-to-do. Without medical insurances, they mostly depend on pani-para (water over which Quranic verses have been recited), and tabiz (encapsulated written Quranic verses) for curing their diseases. These also come handy, they believe, to help them draw God’s mercy when bad time afflicts them.

Mirza is invited when a child is born, to bless the new child; and he is called when someone dies, to make his journey to the other world smooth. He is called, when one in the family is about to begin a new job, or, something auspicious of that nature. Mirza is a busy man.

People offer Mirza money for these services, and his fortune has changed. He now has rented an apartment, which he shares with two of his assistants, and bought a car. Although he lives only a few blocks away from the mosque he always drives his car from his home to the mosque. The social activities that let him earn extra money, take a toll on his working time too. Now-a-days he often comes late to the mosque for prayers. In a few occasions he even failed to come to the mosque at all to lead the prayers. One of the members from the mosque committee had to perform that job on those times. While Mirza is paid for his jobs, the committee members render the same service freely. Mirza’s friends in the mosque committee see to it that his job is not threatened.

Queens inhabits both working class and upwardly mobile middle-class Bangladeshi expatriates. The old apartment style buildings suit lifestyle of both families and bachelors. Young bachelors mostly share an apartment, two or three sharing a room sometime. This often leads shortage of water in the whole building complex. They also create other social problems. The families try to avoid those buildings where the bachelors stay. Only families live in Firoze’s apartment block. Mirza’s apartment is couple blocks away.

Firoze is an engineer with a bright academic career. His sense of religion is balanced, and as a performing Muslim he often finds himself at odds with other people of the community. Firoze does not have any overbearing respect for Mirza, since he finds him lacking in principle. Mirza’s insincerity in performing his job, his side earnings from community religious services—for which Firoze thinks he shall not charge people money, and his inadequacy in religious knowledge, did not earn much respect with Firoze. In fact he detests the man for his charlatan behavior. There are many stories in circulation claiming that Mirza has taken a lot of money from innocent people promising them to redress their troubles by invoking God’s mercy on them.

What seemed like an eternity, he dwelled in his mind how to respond to these two ladies! He looked at the sari-clad woman; she is probably in early twenties, accompanying the burqa lady, whatever her age may be. Beads of sweat on her face told Firoze they must have walked from a distance. The other woman’s face was hidden, only her eyes were visible. Nothing much to read there at this moment.
At the end the good Samaritan in him won. Firoze did not want a simple trusting person to suffer.
In a clear but concerned voice he said, “If you have any health problem you shall see a doctor. Mirza Beg cannot help you.”

The young girl giggled, making it obvious that she shared Firoze’s view. The burqa lady frowned under her veil. Her eyes expressed scorn. Her displeasure was conspicuous.

A mixed emotion took over Firoze, anger, disappointment, and pity. He did not know these two ladies, and he had no chance to influence them. Moreover, who is he to pass judgment on others?
With a sad voice he said, “Follow me. Let me show you where Mirza Beg lives.”

The two women followed him silently.

The Day My Mother Went To Live With The Stars

The sky had opened up and it poured like there is no tomorrow. It was easy on the grave diggers since the ground had swelled, grew soft, and the shovels went in easy! It was typical of my mother to leave the world in a way that was least troublesome for others, who were in her life. In life her need was bare minimum, and so it was in her death.

She was of a time that allowed people to be content easily, albeit, even for that time she was astonishing in simplicity. From a modest beginning, I reached a position in life where I am able to fulfill most of my reasonable demands without much sweat, and my mother knew it very well. Nonetheless, she never asked me for anything—anything at all, because she did not need anything. She lived the life of a hermit, within the bound of society.

My earliest memory of her—it was a noon, on a very hot summer day, when my mother was about to eat her lunch. She used to eat after everyone else in the family did. In those days, we had no refrigerators, and cooked food would get spoiled easily. Therefore, every day, there would be three cooking sessions, so that food would be consumed fresh, and there would be no left over.

Outside our home there was a ground, where I would spend the whole summer vacation playing cricket with my friends. On that day, I had just come in the house to fetch some water for my thirsty friends. As I was collecting water from a tube well I saw a beggar come in and ask, “Is anyone at home? I am hungry; would you give me some food?” It was customary in our small town for the beggars to come in through the main door, which remained open throught out the whole day, and wait inside. It was a disheveled woman with all white hair, very sharp eyes and no teeth, who had just entered in.

My mother was about to begin eating, she saw the woman, and said, “Take a seat mother, let me bring something for you.” That day she shared her food with that old woman. This would happen many more times, and therefore, would leave a very strong impression on my mind that is as vibrant today. I can close my eyes, and watch that old woman sitting on the verandah and eating from a piece of banana leaf.

The most vivid memory I have of my mother was when she beat the hell out of me. I was about 12, therefore, old enough to remember it very well. On top of that it added sort of further embarrassment for a while, because the next day, our school maulavi narrated that story in our Arabic class. He said he was passing through the area, when he saw my mother beating me with a stick in front of our house. My mother was tiny, nevertheless very strong built. And even at that age she could make mincemeat of me.

As he narrated the story, my embarrassment slowly evaporated and a kind of pride took its place. He said that the whole class should be proud of my mother. He said, the son from a house that had a mother like mine, did not need any disciplining in school. He said that he had a new respect for my family, and after that day he never beat me.

Another memory I have of her, was of an evening in the middle of one winter. It was the night of shab-e-barat. She trusted, she was required to spent that night in prayer since on that night God writes fate for the next coming year. She had collected water from the tube well which was at one corner of our house, for taking a bath. That night was very cold, and the blowing wind made it worse. When I was huddled in a room in warm cloth, my mother took her bath open in the cold, with cold water, to make her ready for the prayer.

In my life, I do not face east or west in asking mercy of God, notwithstanding, I have a strong conviction, that I have had such a blessed life—it must only be because of my mother, her account with God is so rich that my lifetime of sins had not depleted it.

Inside Job

In under 2 hours this movie will turn you from a novice in high finance to a knowledgeable geek on how finance is managed at the state level. You will understand my contention that Bill Clinton was not a progressive, he was merely a corporate crony who promoted the cause of his super rich masters at the cost of ordinary Americans. You will also realize that since Ronald Reagan, the US has followed the same trickle down economic models, dismantled all regulations that hinder unbridled activities of the banksters, manipulated free market for the advantages of a few—and the same policies are being continued by Barack Obama today. The face in the White House changes, the policies remain the same, for the true power remains behind the throne, and is invisible.

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