The Gharara ,the Terrorist and many cities in between.

'Thousand and one Stories about the Gharara' was a facebook group I started a year ago.


The piece of garment had evoked many love filled, abandon driven stories in the past.
For me, these stories were in dialogue with the ones I gathered about the Hijab.
Both were funny, hilarious at times.
But the ones about Ghararas went without a mention of how 'they' perceived us.
They were without a mention of that 'despite the hijab, we were liberal, we wanted education, we wanted to see the world.'
The ones about the Gharara evoked crazy sleepless nights of trying to hem glitzy sequins onto the spread.
of the many romances that took place right when those glittery beads were being bought in the bazaar.
of the many journeys that took women out of the house..on the pretext of buying 'stuff'.

Today, when I logged onto the page, I found a friend had posted information about his new book: 7/7 Muslim Perspectives.
It is a book written in response to the 7/7 bomb blasts in UK in 2005- a record of what ordinary men and women were doing when the blasts happened.
I was traveling with 'Elsewhere' (Delhi, Madrid, Documentary 28 minutes, Muslim Youth) and also visiting my brother who at that time was studying at the Cardiff University.
That morning when the bombs went off, we were bound for London. we were in the subway.
The plan was that we would see London together during the day and then he would see me off at Heathrow.
The panic and silence at the subway station was ominous.
I wanted my brother to get back home and he would not leave me alone at the airport.
I finally convinced him.
he left me at Heathrow well 18 hours before check in.
I called a friend of his to ensure that he reaches home.
the night was spent staring onto the brightly lit terminals at the Heathrow, guarding my luggage, browsing at Body Shop and wondering what could have happened.

So when I found the post on my facebook page, I was reminded of the oddly sitting together things-the glittery gharara and Terrorism. In many ways, I expect this collage like feeling when I meet Sameena this summer.
Sameena, the one who weaves brocade patterns on Ghararas in Azamgarh.
In news reports they talk of Azamgarh as the 'nursery of terror'.