I want to be famous so I wrote a blog about Russel Brand

Russel Brand excites me.

It is strange when you feel an adrenaline rush from watching something completely non-static. Although describing a Brand interview as non static is a bit of a stretch. When I watch the Lord of the Rings, it is expected for me to want to jump up and scream at the screen like a lunatic; but unlike crazy rock music that might have a similar effect, words of change can spark wonders particularly when packaged in an accessible way.

I have a similar experience watching Aaron Sorkin’s work. ‘Moneyball’ got me pumped as hell, even though it was a film about people talking about baseball – nothing sounds less exciting. I’m a sucker for great writing, but reading aesthetically beautiful classical prose like Shakespeare does not have the same effect; that is because we want to relate. No one speaks Elizabethan English, so when someone makes an epic one-liner in Hamlet, it is very different from the effect of hearing a certain catch phrase uttered by John McClane.

Much like the reasons for political apathy that Mr. Brand speaks about, politicians do not represent the vast majority. For this reason amongst many, it can be very easy to ride off vote-seeking white, middle class males in suits who swear they’re looking out for your best interests.

Au contraire, it can be easy to fall head over heels for someone who comes out of the stereotype and hail them as the new messiah; the ‘Barack Obama’ effect, where the first black President is going to fix all the problems of this current unrepresentative system.

In Mahdi Hassan’s interview of Mr. Brand on Monday evening, when posed the question whether he would vote for someone that came from a poor background, similar to Russel’s own background, the glorious response was, ‘what is he going to do?’

http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/2013/11/05/huffruss-russell-brand-in-conversation-with-mehdi-hasan_n_4221633.html?utm_hp_ref=uk-politics&ir=UK+Politics

I don’t agree with some of his ideas, or methods, but boy do I want to jump up and scream at the screen when he rants about how our system is messed up and no one seems to care. He’s not a man with answers, but no one should expect him to be. In my opinion, he is providing solutions by begging us to come up with something better. All the social scientists, political activists, politicians, great thinkers, keyboard warriors perhaps: the onus is on you. Unless we have accepted that mankind needs to come to a stagnant plateau and that our current system is the best solution to addressing problems of economic disparity, and social inequality, then why should we criticise someone on the basis of wanting to make a change?

Sure, scrutinize his ideas, but he’s doing a hell of a lot more than many of us.

Mr. Brand represents an idea. Despite coming from a poor,  junkie background, he can sit down and hold his own with senior politicians and thinkers, without coming across as an idiot; and if he does, he makes the entire room laugh in the process.  He is highly eloquent, and is very much symbolic of the fact that being well educated does not mean solely scoring a double first class from Oxbridge. Much like a great film, he delivers ideas to us in a way that we, the masses, can appreciate and comprehend.

I have been critical of him in the past, and I am not jumping aboard the ‘Brand for PM’ bandwagon just yet,  but the next time he speaks, I will make sure I listen. That is more than I can say regarding most of the politicians in this country.

Sometimes you get some

It’s tough when you can’t put your finger on what exactly is wrong.

Sometimes you just have those days where everything is perfect; early start, productivity the entire day through, you have managed to accomplish more in a day than you would in 2 weeks!

…other days are like this; something just feels wrong; everything just feels wrong.

It is like that feeling when an activist has invested immense chunks of their lives devoted to a particular cause, only to come to the realization that all that spent time was fruitless – back to square one.

DISCLAIMER:  Good blogs take one theme or main point, and flesh it out succinctly. This is not a good blog.

People tell me I am talented. I know that some people look up to me. I am infinitesimally grateful for the blessings that have been bestowed upon me; but how much use is a jack of all traits, but master of none?

I dabble my fingers in a lot of pies, and I love it that way. Aside from a carb-loaded pot belly, it has led me to have some very diverse experiences and meet some incredible people. Yet, I am not exceptionally skilled at any one thing.  Lest it sound like I am being ungrateful, I do urge you to think carefully about what it means to be ‘GREAT’ at something; and if you still think I’m ungrateful, then shush! My opinions, MY OPINIONS, MY OPINIONS!!!!

I have been immensely lucky in life…immensely blessed.

People tell me I’m a social person. This can range from compliments on my public speaking ability (or inability?), to jokes-that-are-actually-serious-commentaries-on-my-life about how I just talk way too much. It is incredible how one’s perception of you might be so different to what you are on the inside. If one’s reflection revealed their inner character, I would walk around with a mirror just to remind myself who I’m truly not.

I can think of no better word to describe myself than an ‘introvert’. I was laughed at when I last uttered that sentence, but I know it to be true. It only became clearer when I took the Myers-Briggs test, and realized how people’s preferences might be completely different to what they externalize; because the system of work currently at play calls for a certain type of approach, many of us might be forced to adopt and possibly become good at a style/approach that we loathe.

I might elaborate on the above point in a later blog, as it is something I have given much thought to. I would not want to detract from the clear, take-home message that I am delivering to my ‘peeps in da club’.

I will conclude by saying that, sometimes certain experiences cause you to reflect upon yourself, and you might not like what you see. You might be an extremist (only used that word to get more hits on this post. Thanks for reading, CIA!) and hate yourself for not being perfect; none of us is. I’m not perfect, and if people expect me to be, then I should use that as fuel to egg me on towards my views of what perfection are (and not theirs).

I don’t know why I started writing. I don’t know if it made things clearer for me (like hell it made things clearer for any of you), but I do know that everyone has a story. We may think we understand someone’s psyche, yet we may land eons away from it and impose our paradigms on others. Sometimes things feel right, sometimes things feel wrong; sometimes you let things linger, sometimes things should remain what they are…JUST things.

One thing I can testify to, the feeling of engaging in long prayer at midnight as the city lays in peaceful slumber, will never cease to bring harmony to the most chaotic states of mind.

The Road to Success

I just saw an interesting video.

It spoke about how striving towards what our ideals in society have become, can have a rather isolating effect on people. In this modern age of connectedness via social media, we are under a constant illusion that we have tons of friends, that we are constantly connected with the world; rather, sometimes it catalyses the exact opposite effect, leaving one feeling completely alone.  It is almost as if you walk into a crowded masquerade ball, but quite soon the world around you starts dissolving away and the feeling of being in a completely separate dimension takes over.

Not that that has happened to me, of course; I don’t do balls!

I have thought about this point at great length. Namely, when one of my friends from abroad would be tagged in Facebook pictures, I would catch regular glimpses of what he was doing. In a non-stalking way, you probably get to see, in passing, status updates and pictures of people who you may almost never speak with. It is slightly creepy when you think about people who are actually actively ‘Facebook stalking’ you without your knowledge…(and the craziest thing is how completely normal people suddenly become crazy stalkers when it comes to Facebook). Anyway, this individual constantly appeared in pictures where he was partying, surrounded by attractive friends, attending great events, and seemed to be having the time of his life. I was completely shocked when I found out how miserable he really was.

This made me realize that what we have brought upon ourselves is the Celebrity culture. Where young girls (and guys) are still watching the brushed up actresses and super models, and getting completely unrealistic expectations of what a woman should look like; we have done the exact same thing through our virtual relationships. People may untag themselves in pictures where they don’t look flattering, they have the choice of deliberating their responses (and searching Google), editing/deleting before they reply to your chats or posts, and the glimpse into someone’s life that you get on a tool like Facebook is likely to be the equivalent of watching ‘Match of the Day’, or fast-forwarding through the highlights of a film.

I remember the three months after I graduated where I was unemployed, and had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I was lucky enough to partake in a leadership program at Oxford University, and I then found work soon after. One profile-picture change, and one status update later, I found that I was getting messages like ‘smashing it as usual, bro!’ and ‘you’re killing it after uni!’. My countless hours of going through an emotional rollercoaster in front of a computer screen simply translated into ‘success, success, SUCCESS!’. But what is success? What is happiness?

When I decided to become more observant of my Islamic faith, I was told by hoards of people that I was restricting myself, and missing out on life. When I started working for an NGO, I was told that I was not earning 40-50k, and so this will not lead to a successful career. When I don’t show anger or frustration at having missed a train, or a flight, I am told that I am irresponsible and that I do not care. My only confusion with this is…all these things make me happy. My faith, my attitude, my work; these are all things that give me purpose in life, and make me feel like I am living to the fullest. Yes, NOT drinking alcohol makes me feel like I am living to the fullest. NOT clubbing or having pre-marital sex gives me a sense of joy, and instills a sacredness in the institution of marriage for me. Being able to pay for a roof over my head, food to eat, and social events is more than enough for me at this stage. I do not need to be able to afford a Ferrari. If I could, would that make me successful?

To me, happiness is success. Period. If you can find happiness in everything that you do, the best of times and the worst, then you have made it. You are the top dog, the G, the legend, the Frank Sinatra, the don. From there, you can start to define your own successes and failures, but regardless of the result, YOU will still be SUCCESSFUL, because you will still be happy.

Funny thing is, the people who tell me I am restricting my life start getting agitated unless they have smoked a joint, or intoxicated themselves beyond the point of memory. The same ‘successful’ individuals who are making tons of cash are constantly trying to reach higher targets, without being able to fully enjoy what they do have. The people who start wailing over spilt milk….just aren’t using logic. The milk is spilt already; duuh! Freaking out, raising your stress levels, cursing, punching a wall, will not cause time to rewind.

Sometimes circumstances dictate our decisions; but everyone has a different measure of happiness. Some people might actually enjoy being bankers. True, they might share more genetic material with Martians and Venusians than humans, but they do exist. As a society, maybe we should not impose our ideals of success on people, but rather, encourage people to pursue the true road to success; and what success can there be, without happiness.

Be a Teacher

Be a teacher…

‘Even if you aren’t going to be a teacher, be a teacher’

This post is inspired by the viral graduation speech made by Tim Minchin. I thought it was phenomenal. I sometimes wonder whether real graduations actually have guest speakers like that, or whether it is some Hollywood fantasy that YouTube has concocted to make us believe in ourselves once more; obviously, Disney is behind it.

He gave 9 superb points of advice, but the one that really resonated with me was about teaching.

The type of society I was brought up in measures success by how high up the banking ladder one is, or how many 0’s one can write on a check (before the decimal point, that is!). Teaching as a profession is not the most extravagant job, there are not many prospects for massive bonuses and prestige, and so it is not regarded in the best light. If one wishes to become a teacher, most of the time, the talk of the town will be that said person did badly on their exams, or could not find a job, and hence resorted to teaching. Unfortunately, there is truth to that point, and some people do resort to teaching as a last resort. Thankfully, this mentality does not exist everywhere, but I was surrounded by it.

Naturally, when I chose to pursue a Bachelors in Mathematics, the first question I was asked was ‘Why? You want to be a teacher?’.

‘No, no… I would never degrade myself to teaching life skills to our future generations. It is far more important for me to wear a suit I can’t fit in, drive a car whose name I can’t pronounce, all the while, appeasing the same demographic of society that sets out to please itself’

Ok, I never said that! I won’t lie, I got this question so much that I usually had a  large list of professions ready to convince people that a Maths degree was for more than ‘just’ Maths teachers. I would pull out articles about Maths graduates earning high salaries, and how ‘demanded’ we would be. It was as if I were hell-bent on being seen as successful BECAUSE I wanted not to be a teacher.

I do not want to be a full-time teacher by profession. Although I am passionate about change within the Education sector, and I have always been open to teaching on a voluntary basis, locally or in third world countries, I do not wish to be a Teacher with a capital T. I respect the hell out of Teachers though. I admire them. I can remember almost every teacher I have ever had, whether they were horrendous, exemplary or just plain ordinary, because that is the effect a teacher has on a young mind.

That puts me in the category that the majority of us non-Teachers are in; a teacher – with a small t.

Education should never become elitist. It it does/if it has, then it is up to us to teach, and pass on anything we have learnt. Be that experience, skills or knowledge. You learn with each passing second. Even if you ‘never learn’, you learn.  A conversation with a smiting idiot will teach you a number of things: -

1)   Don’t engage in conversations with smiting idiots

2)   The best way to escape a conversation with a smiting idiot

3)   The smiting idiot might break character for but a moment in an impromptu departure from smiting idiocy, and you might actually take something beneficial away

4)   Who the hell am I to call someone a smiting idiot? Maybe I am being judgmental

Life really is about learning. To live is to learn, and philosophically, I fail to see how the concept of life, time, reality and learning can be separated whatsoever (that could lead to an interesting discussion if I weren't the only reader of this blog). What better way to express our life, our learning, but by teaching? To me, that is poetry.

Be a Teacher, or spend your life teaching

Miracle on Bristol Street

Sometimes you experience miracles. 

You might be so wowed by one, that you feel like doing somersaults. If you are exceptionally daring, you might click your heels in the street. Some people might raise their hands in the air, or touch their heads on the ground in prostration. If you are an exceptionally cool person of faith, you might proclaim in a moment of carefree spontaneity; ‘PRAISE THE LOOOORD!’. 

Many people will brush the miracle off as an act of chance; which is a belief I am happy to accept, but still not justification for the absence of a miracle in my eyes. Some people might not react whatsoever, and I think that is quite upsetting. 

-     ‘Who asked for your opinion anyway?’
-     ‘Seeing as my blog is one of the few things I am completely in control of, I would advise you to keep your comments to yourself, weird-voice-in-my-head!’


 I think there is beauty in expressing emotion. Happiness in times of calamity is an extremely difficult state to reach, but it is the closest definition of ‘heaven-on-earth’ in my mind. 

So I went to visit Bristol recently, as you do. Great city, here’s a shout out to all my Bristol-ites! Now those closest to me, namely people whom I share insane amounts of genetic material with, have described me using the rather unflattering term ‘irresponsible’. I will one day make the case that I am simply a being who is on the ‘chilled’ side, but until then, feel free to make up your own mind!

 The day I was leaving, I had already booked my coach ticket from Bristol to London. I did not have a rail card at the time, and a pre-booked coach was a good bet at getting to keep my arm and leg during any financial transactions. I woke up nice and early, took my sweet time to do my last minute packing, took my not-so-sweet time to complete my unfinished business (ask no questions, and get no responses you will regret hearing),and sought to leave with a good half hour to spare. I reached for the door knob, only to realize that my eye sight was not spectacularly crystal clear

 -     ‘Gosh golly Batman, you forgot those glasses of yours’


 What started as a 30 second ‘take my glasses and leave’ turned into a 30 minute fiasco looking for a needle in a haystack. To make a long story somewhat less long, I decided to sacrifice my dear glasses and break into a sprint for the coach station. Needless to say, being 4 minutes late, I quickly came to the realization that Justin Timberlake and Madonna are far more efficient with their even multiples of time than I am.

 I immediately checked my phone for cheap tickets back to London, and caught wind of an even cheaper ticket back, ninety minutes later. Not so fast, this is Mr. Responsible we are talking about. I decided NOT to pay for the ticket immediately since, in the off chance that I were to miss it again, I did not want more money to go down the drain. So, I sat down in my spot to read a rather interesting book, and decided to wait until I had reached the bus to buy a physical ticket, or pay for the online version. 

With a half hour to spare and no navigation, I realized the bus station for this cheaper bus was different to the one I was at. In a race for time, my animal instincts led me to the venue with a good 10 minutes to spare, and the angelic presence of the bus in front of me lead to a large gospel choir breaking into ‘Hallelujah’s. I am still not sure whether those were in my head or not.

 - ‘One ticket, my good sir, and keep the change (you filthy animal)’
- ‘We do not sell physical tickets…and it is far too late to buy one online. We stop selling them 15 minutes before departure. Sorry’
-‘really? Are there no free seats? Could I not buy a ticket now, or even pay your company later?’
- ‘Very sorry, it is against policy’
- ‘No problem. This thing I’m seeing on my eyes, is this what it looks like when one’s life crumbles before ones eyes?’ 

Now I have made a resolution with myself. When I feel that things are not going the way I want them to, I take a deep breath and say ‘Alhamdulilah’. I felt quite good after managing not to get upset by missing another bus, and in my moment of high, I just stayed standing in my spot. I did not move. I felt peaceful. This was generally something I would not do…just standing in my place for a good 5 minutes, right in front of the bus, for no reason whatsoever. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a women walking towards me. She was dressed in loose, light blue, parachute pants (American use of the word) and a hippie looking tank top. She also had a red Indian Bindi dot on her forehead, and something about her screamed ‘spirituality’. She politely came up to me and asked,
‘Would you like to have my tea? I cannot take it on board, the bus leaves in a few minutes and I do not want to waste a perfectly good tea.’ 

Spirituality, and food conservationist in one? Who was this soul mate of mine? As averse as I am to accepting drinks from strangers, I might have considered taking it, were I not engaged in a dawn to dusk fast from food and drink. I politely declined, and explained that I was fasting. I might not have usually explained that I was fasting, but something about the woman told me that she would have no problem in understanding. She then went to the bus driver, and I remained in my spot, now increasingly unsure of why I was still standing where I was. It was as if I could not move. Before I knew it, I saw the driver slowly walking towards me again. 

-     ‘You’re fasting, are you?’
-     ‘Why yes, yes I am’
-     ‘…hmm…get on, we have a number of spare seats. Please pray for me, and may God bless you!’
-     ‘….say what?’

 So there I was, sitting on the bus, amazed by what had just happened. To me, it was all a crazy chain of events, where I could have, and should have left, but didn’t. A stranger offered me their tea for the first time ever, on the day I happened to be fasting. This stranger somehow managed to mention it in a random conversation with the driver for no apparent reason. I felt morally comfortable on the bus considering I had already paid for a ticket, but I will keep in mind that I owe MegaBus 7 quid at some point. 

I was fasting because we just so happen to be in the 10 days of Dhul Hijjah, a month in the Islamic calendar where the first 10 days are described as the ‘best days of the entire year’. Muslims believe these days to have spiritual blessing in them, and so for me, small experiences like this, which may seem like a natural occurrence to some, or an interesting coincidence at the most to others, simply seeks to reignite my faith of positivity and spiritual well being. I felt like I was part of a chess board, with God showing me all the right moves before my very eyes. To me, it was like listening to a story where you feel like you learn a great lesson, except that the story was happening to me!

 It was a miracle. I felt happy. My happiness was a miracle. Happiness is miraculous