My sojourn in the land of the pure is coming to an end. As I inch towards the departure date, I become irritable, atleast that is what the others say. I try to memorise the wrinkles on my mom's face and drink up my father's routine outbursts of temper. The weather is getting hotter. The cloth market is my favourite with the endless bargains. I am always at the losing end! I love going out after 'Fajar' prayers to walk on the grass and watch the birds deliriously dipping in little clay pots left outside by my mother.

Rabi'ul'awal cools my sores. I clutch tid bits of memory. My dreams will be of rose petals, thousands of them, with lilies and candles interspersed in the their midst. Sweet tears flowing down kohl rimmed eyes. 'Mithai' in green and white. Hands in dua' and lips trembling in salaam. Hearts do fly sometimes!

I am glad to be reading at night. I wallow in fiction and history. The state of the world before Islam, the Crusades and also the Spainish Inquisition. I am forever shutting and opening the books. Noor-ud-din Zangi and Salahuddin shimmer before my eyes. I am searching for good books on Islamic History.