As I sit on the plane headed for Pakistan before moving to Paris, I silently grieve for what was home for two years and go over some of my most memorable moments as well as my mental notes about the place. Suddenly, on the jazz music channel (thank you, noise-cancelling headphones) I hear Carmen McRae crooning ‘The loveliness of Paris…’ and then Ella Fitzgerald ‘April in Paris’. All I needed was this nudge from the universe to begin to look forward to a new adventure. [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x4fvsd_april-in-paris-ella-fitzgerald-1957_music[/embed] Sometimes we do things right instinctively. Sometimes we need a teacher. Sometimes we need to make a ‘notes-to-self’ kind of list, and to learn from mistakes. Then there is that rare occurrence where one’s rhythm is a perfect match to that of a city’s: the ‘energichni, interiyesni, gorod Mockba’ (energetic/ alive, interesting city of Moscow) and its ‘krasivi arxitekturi’ (beautiful architecture), which got under my skin in a bewilderingly short period of time. Initially hesitant about moving to such an alien place, I found myself melting into Moscow’s particular charms: Russia’s soul got under my skin, the way it does if you open your heart to it. I also realise that I had been working from a mental list of Do’s and Don’ts when I moved to Moscow initially, but in preparation for the move to Paris, I decide to write down some of what I have learnt in my travels. How should I organise my thoughts? There are so many ways, but I decide to do the most immediate thing: base this list on recent statements and observations made by my supportive friends about this life of constant change. Some which actually surprised me:
“I remember that you knew what you wanted when you came here two years ago, and it seems to me you have achieved it”, said my Swedish friend Veronika, reminding me of our initial conversation.I had never consciously thought of this settling in process in those terms. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="595"]
Photo: Zarminae Ansari[/caption]
1- Have clarity of purpose
When I arrived, I had made a mental list about what I wanted out of the next two years. I knew that I wanted to do as much as possible in this relatively short time: to get to know the city and learn as much about the culture as I could.
Make a list of what you want out of a new place. Maybe you want to know everything about just one aspect of the culture – or study its literature, or perhaps you want to swallow as many aspects of it as you can. Whatever it is- make a list. Stick to it. Things will be challenging, settling in will be time-consuming at first. It will be easy to get into a routine and lose sight of your goals. Don’t.
2- Learn the language
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Photo: Zarminae Ansari[/caption]
‘I can vouch for you wanting storms’, said Amber, one of my oldest friends when I shared this quote by the Russian poet, Anna Akhmatova.
Those who knew me best understood why the quote spoke to me.
I thrive, like most people I suppose, on new experiences. Not just the novelty, but also the educational aspect of experiencing the new, unfamiliar and unique. Another thing I was very clear about, perhaps the greatest challenge I set myself, or the ‘storm’ if you will, was to learn this incredibly difficult language. I admired the proficiency with which my diplomat friends spoke it.
These days I am extremely proud of our embassy in Moscow: it is entirely Russian speaking. All the way to the top: to our current ambassador, Zaheer A Janjua. The importance of this simply cannot be emphasised enough in non-English-speaking countries. And while I’m not even close to proficiency, I certainly get by and my experience was made all the richer for it.
Use every opportunity to use the new language; people will be more helpful and generally kinder when they see that you are making an effort to communicate with them in their own language. Very helpful if bargaining for discounts at the local market – you might even make unexpected friends. I did my language homework at the café around the corner – it was great to practice whatever I learnt. The free coffee was a bonus.
3- Be a resident tourist
As I said my goodbyes, many friends commented that I would get to know Paris as well or perhaps more than Moscow which I had really managed to explore surprisingly well in the relatively short time of two years.
However, it wasn’t always so. One of the mistakes I made early on in my expat life was to be complacent. As a tourist, I often wondered why friends who lived in the town I was visiting had not seen some of the things that I, as a mere visitor had.
Now I know.
Living down the road from the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I make the mistake of feeling like I had all the time in the world to visit it. I missed many places because they were too ‘touristy’.
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Photo: Zarminae Ansari[/caption]
In Moscow, armed with a few good guidebooks, and Mustansar Hussain Tarar’s poignant and witty recollections of the city, ‘Moscow ki Safaid Raatein’, I attacked the town the way a tourist with limited time does, marking off all the major sites within the first few weeks. And consequently trying to see at least one new place: a museum, park or neighbourhood every single week without fail. This allowed me to get oriented with the city in record time, and also identify my favourite sites and places so that I could return to my favourite ones, and I did.
You really do NOT have all the time in the world. Try not to wait to see major sites ‘when friends and family visit’, because they may not. And it might be time to move again.
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Photo: Zarminae Ansari[/caption]
4- Join the club
Jump in immediately! Most cities, even the smallest ones have expat clubs that take many forms. Some are spouse associations and support groups for ‘trailing spouses’ (a term I’m not terribly fond of), the International Women’s Club (IWC), and nationality (for example, Commonwealth Club) and language-based clubs (for example, Damas Latinas).
Other resources and clubs include the school, kids’ clubs and sports-based clubs, which are great to meet like-minded people and/or other parents. For single people the best clubs are activity-based, since these social so-called ‘expat clubs’ sometimes tend to attract a different kind of crowd, which is great if you’re into that kind of thing: local girls, expat guys.
A few of the things I learnt about and experienced through some clubs: Russian literature, Moscow architecture, history of the Gulag and Stalin’s Terror, creating decoupage crafts, Soviet Realist Art, traditional cuisines, Russian Icons, days out of Moscow.
I met many like-minded people in the clubs I joined – especially the extraordinary, well-organised, International Women’s Club of Moscow with its scores of activities and interest groups, which is one of the largest chapters of the IWC. I can truly say that joining this one club made my Moscow experience all the more rewarding.
Kelly, with whom I led my first architecture walk-tour only three weeks after arriving in Russia, and Marina, who took over from her, encouraged me to start a similar group in Paris. I befriended some of the most intelligent women on these walks, Dorothea and Jana, who are convinced that club or not, I will get to know Paris, my new city – Dorothea’s favourite. While I am grateful for their vote of confidence, I am completely convinced of the value and efficacy of clubs – at least initially, so taking my own advice, I have already reached out to all the clubs I am eligible for!
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Photo: Zarminae Ansari[/caption]
5- Share your discoveries
If you use social media, share!
If you don’t, tell your friends!
If you see, draw!
If you hear, describe!
When you tell others about a fantastic new private museum you have discovered, write about something you had only a superficial understanding of in the past, photograph all that is new, unusual or fascinating, or even sketch a scene or a building; you remember more of it, understand it more deeply.
It is easier if you are a writer, journalist or artist. But even if you aren’t, consider writing about your experiences, or sketching, not just photographing it. Yes: even if you have never sketched or written before!
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Photo: Zarminae Ansari[/caption]
In ‘The Art of Travel’, (required reading for travellers!) Alain De Botton writes about John Ruskin who published books and gave lectures in the late 19th century to laymen, workers and craftsmen on art.
“What was the point of drawing? Ruskin saw no paradox in stressing that it had nothing to do with drawing well, or with becoming an artist… because drawing could teach us to see: to notice rather than to look. In the process of recreating with our own hand what lies before our eyes, we seem naturally to move from a position of observing beauty in a loose way to one where we acquire a deep understanding of its constituent parts and, hence, more secure memories of it.” “Another benefit we may derive from drawing is a conscious understanding of the reasons behind our attraction to certain landscapes and buildings. We find explanations for our tastes; we develop an ‘aesthetic’, a capacity to assert judgements about beauty and ugliness.”Botton describes the problem Ruskin saw with photography after his initial enthusiasm for it and writes that instead of being a supplement to the process of observation, photography seemed to replace it completely with people comfortable in the knowledge that a moment of beauty had been forever captured. However, sometimes, we really do not have the luxury of time needed for drawing a scene, or a building. All we have is a camera or a smart phone. Even this can be put to better use if we use it as a travel diary or mini-blog. Photos and selfies in front of monuments become rather monotonous for our friends and family after a while- with the exception of grandmothers. (In case you haven’t noticed: grandmothers want to see their grandkids in front of every major monument, or practicing riding a scooter in Victory Park, or even scowling at the sun. Everyone else I know is more interested in a little nugget of information about the place or event. So many friends have written to me that they had never put Moscow on the top of a list, or even on any list of places to visit, but have decided to do so after all that I have shared. While that is very gratifying, my intention while sharing was really journaling my own experience under time constraints. Having said that, I think it’s great fun to change peoples’ perceptions and I am looking forward to leading a group-tour of friends back to my favourite Moscow haunts soon (and before I forget my Russian). [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="472"]
Photo: Zarminae Ansari[/caption]
6- Understand the country through its arts and culture
Akhmatova, Bulgakov, Chekhov. Dostoevsky to Dovlatov. Erofeev. Okhudzhava to Oleshin, and Pushkin to Pasternak.
Tolstoy, Turgenev , Trifanov, Tsvetaeva and Tatiana Tolstaya.
These are some of the names I became acquainted with thanks to an amazing series of lectures about Russian literature where I discovered some of my favourite books. They helped me start to understand, in a relatively short time, the fact that it is impossible to understand or explain Russia. You can only begin to feel its soul.
My friend, John, who came to Russia and never left, understood this strange phenomenon. There are some places that you can fall in love with at first sight. Others are so intimidating, challenging and forbidding that you might want to retreat into your expat cocoon and its coffee parties.
Don’t: it might take you completely by surprise how a place slowly gets under your skin, if you let it by learning more about it. As Churchill said about Russia:
“It is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma”.My son and I were the first expat guests at Bogdarnya, an agro-tourism retreat outside Moscow. At first, going alone, to what seemed to be the middle of nowhere with a small child, seemed a bit foolhardy, we were lucky though, as the Kopiski family who run it made every effort to allay any fears and facilitate the visit. We never looked back. It is my son’s favourite memory of Russia and probably one of my top five. It is also the place where I truly felt more of that ‘Russian soul’ than in the rush of Moscow city life and its designer boutiques. I saw my first troika race and carriage driver’s competition, traditional village dances, wooden dachas, the warmth and spirituality of a completely wooden ‘Khram’ or church. ‘Song of the Arbat’ was the bard-poet Bulat Okhutzhava’s famous poem or song which helped with my Russian homework, and at the same time made me look at the historic street I lived by, in a new way:
“You flow like a river with your strange name, And your asphalt transparent like water in a river”, sang the bard whose much-photographed monument graces the street he lived on and wrote about.[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="411"]
Photo: Zarminae Ansari[/caption]
7- Drop the deadwood
I am still learning – but getting better at dropping the deadwood. I read something somewhere about ‘drains and radiators’. As the name suggest, drains were acquaintances whose negative energy leave you drained, whereas radiators emanate warmth and leave you wanting more.
I often invited my son’s friends for play dates and their mothers for coffee when they came to pick their kids up. In two cases, I realised early on that they were drains and did not extend this acquaintance beyond that particular excruciating cup of coffee where they complained about Moscow, said that they had nothing to do and were bored because their husbands were travelling.
I was sympathetic, of course, after all we all faced the same challenges – but their conversation did not extend beyond the difficulties of living there. When I made suggestions – not unlike this list – they were not interested in improving the quality of their lives by joining any clubs or activity groups which had actually eased my own transition and settling in process.
Huge red flag: if people hate everything about where they live and find absolutely no redeeming qualities about it, they are drains.
Only boring people get bored.
I should probably be more charitable and mention here – that sometimes they are going through a crisis in their personal lives (and who isn’t?), which makes them induratize (more on that in point eight). Be their therapist (if you have the energy). But know that they are drains.
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Photo: Zarminae Ansari[/caption]
And then there are radiators: people like my rocket-scientist (literally) friend Tricia who works for NASA (and how cool is that?), whose energy and ‘FOMO’ (Fear of Missing Out) rivalled, nay- superseded my own. She was ready to try out new things (like a Russian rock concert, a jive/swing dance class, a national dance show that could have been cheesy but wasn’t, a new restaurant, or a new city) and organise it all to take everyone along with her on her journey.
Fiona, a journalist, was the walking queen: sending out open invitations to friends to join her in long walks around Moscow neighbourhoods, or join her for concerts. The ultimate radiator has got to be one of the most humble, loving and warm people I have ever met: astronaut Suni Williams. In fact, all the astronauts I met were just the kindest bunch of people, and then it occurred to me: if you are in space for up to six months at a time – you would drive the rest of your colleagues to open the hatches of the International Space Station (ISS) and jump out if you weren’t a radiator – so being an inspiration comes with the job description.
One disclaimer here – I have not loved every city I have lived in. In the early days, as I was making this list (mentally) I was still learning, so even that experience wasn’t without value as it provided me with two things, which redeem even Houston. One was a what-not-to-do list, and the other was a radiator, Rachel, whose grace and warmth I continue to learn from.
8- Do not induratize
Tulin, who has experienced the expat life growing up, understood something that friends, who have never moved countries, never do:
“Moving never gets easier, somehow... I’m sure you made the most of your time in Moscow, and it’s harder because you allowed yourself to fall in love with it. So many people never fall in love with the cities they live in, and it’s a shame.”Aishu, a friend from architecture school who observed that I gave myself completely to each place I lived in, said:
“You have the heart and soul to let yourself be vulnerable enough to fall in love with all the places you live in. You leave a part of yourself there, yet absorb and gain something from there. Hats off to you for learning their language, it made this journey all the more soulful and important.”I could pretend to be modest and write ‘humbled that she thought that’ – but I won’t: I will be unabashedly proud of that achievement. Be vulnerable. Open your heart and forget the inevitable heartbreak. It is also possible to make lasting friendships even till the last few days before leaving a place. Some of my best memories are from only a few months before my departure from Moscow, when I met some of the most unforgettable people in my life, people I feel blessed to have in my life. If I had met them with the cynicism that some expats develop, I might never have experienced a DDT rock concert (the Russian U2/ Roger Waters) in Gorky park with a bunch of NASA astronauts, seen a classic Russian movie which is an integral part of the cultural life of people and is shown every year on New Year’s Eve, or had the most fun behind the scenes at a symphony orchestra concert at the famous Moscow Conservatory. I was encouraged and inspired by my friend Ilse – a seasoned traveller and expat who has spent many more years than I have moving countries, and lamented that, “now I will have to start all over again, getting to know people and making friends”, and yet, knowing that she would have to, did not stop her from extending the hand of friendship. It was actually her advice that I took to heart about dropping the deadwood, really looking for quality than quantity to forge lasting friendships, even in this relatively short period of time. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="374"]
Photo: Zarminae Ansari[/caption]
In conclusion: Embrace the adventure, Marco Polo ki aulad!
Someone once tried to be dismissive of my adventurous and adaptive spirit, and called me ‘Marco Polo ki aulad’ (Marco Polo’s progeny), as if it were a bad thing. I love that title and own it proudly- it’s all about the fernweh!
As Ibn Batuta, the famous 14th century Islamic scholar, jurist, geographer, traveller-explorer has been quoted as saying:
“Travelling- it leaves you speechless, then turns you into a storyteller”.
Photo: Enemy of the Reich: The Noor Inayat Khan Story Facebook Page[/caption]
Khan was born on January 2, 1914, in Russia, to an Indian Sufi master and musician, Hazrat Inayat Khan and an American mother, Ora Ray Baker. Khan’s father was a descendent of Tipu Sultan, the ruler of Mysore. Her family fled to England after the Nazis invaded France in 1940. There, she joined Britain’s Women’s Auxiliary Air Force as a wireless operator. In 1943, she was posted to Directorate of Air Intelligence, as a covert agent for Winston Churchill’s 
Photo: Enemy of the Reich: The Noor Inayat Khan Story Facebook Page[/caption]
The work of the SOE was to help the French forces for preparations of 
Photo: Enemy of the Reich: The Noor Inayat Khan Story Facebook Page[/caption]
Photo: Enemy of the Reich: The Noor Inayat Khan Story Facebook Page[/caption]
WWII is considered to be the deadliest war in human history that left a profound impact on the international arena. It reshaped the map of the world, particularly the Arab world, resulting in the emergence of a Jew state – Israel. Millions of civilians lost their lives; power poles shifted and paved the way for the Cold War. The United Nations came into effect in 1945 to resolve disputes. And the US and western countries created the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO). During such turbulent times; there was an understanding between the Jews and the Muslims, an understanding we don’t see today.
Very few people are aware of the role of Muslims in WWII; how they played a significant role by 
Photo: Enemy of the Reich: The Noor Inayat Khan Story Facebook Page[/caption]
All in all, the beautifully shot 
The main entrance of the chateau of Parc de Thoiry. Photo: Supriya Arcot[/caption]
To begin with, the French are not as implicit (to the extent of being ambiguous) as the English. They are quite open and explicit in their communication, much like South Asians. If they don’t like something, they say it bluntly, unlike the English who will raise perhaps one, and just one, eyebrow to show their displeasure. The French are fiercely possessive about their language. They don’t tolerate its slaughter and, unlike the English, will rush to correct you when they hear you struggling with it. Clumsy French is more welcome than perfect English here.
The people are quite accessible otherwise, though they don’t go out of their way to befriend you or help you. Luckily, it took us a very short while to settle in, thanks to our neighbours and friends, because we managed to make some.
Belongings
Paris, even today, after the birth of newer and more enthralling countries like Herzegovina (it’s the most exotic country name I could think of), tops in the number of tourists by a very big margin year after year. The Eiffel Tower and Nice (located down south and has a more Mediterranean climate) are 
A house in Les Marais. Photo: Supriya Arcot[/caption]
If you are here as a tourist, then you’d be advised to be careful with your belongings. No place on Earth is immune to cheating and robbery, and 
A train station in the city. Photo: Reuters[/caption]
The ‘locals’ here are the avoidable types who are street smart and dangerous, each one more sinister than the other. Most of the women and men are dressed to the hilt with shiny gold earrings, bracelets, hair pieces, fake long hair, jazzy, shiny colourful satins and faux leather shoes, pants and jackets on any part of the day or year. They spell danger from far. I am sure most of them work hard for their money, whichever way you look at it, but it’s better to stay away from them as much as possible.
They know the city and the metros like the back of their hands. They don’t belong to any particular race or creed .They come in all colours and sizes .They will not hesitate to pinch or punch their immediate neighbour in a crowded and packed compartment for the silliest reason. I can narrate many first-hand incidents of acid and knife attacks in broad daylight.
Be prepared to hear innumerable languages and equally innumerable accents of any given language. Even after so many years in Paris, when I hear English in any accent I feel a nostalgic lump in my throat and I am reminded of the decade I spent in England.
Eating out
Paris is known 
Photo: Reuters[/caption]
If you want authentic North Indian food then there are good restaurants like Ratn, Old Jawad and India, all in the heart of Paris. The bill should not come up to more than €300 for a family. Cheaper alternatives can be found in every nook and corner but then, it goes without saying, we need to compromise on the quality of the food too. There are a myriad of eateries to cater to the Mediterranean palate – the area of Le Marais being my favourite for pita hummus and falafel.
I am yet to see a complete vegetarian joint in France. Even so-called salad bars come with the inherent understanding that they will carry at least raw fish. 
A cooking class in progress. Photo: Supriya Arcot[/caption]
Family outings
France is a very family-oriented country. During the two wars, with the men out to ‘work’, the women were left to fend for themselves. They started working and earning. The feminist movement had started. The women had tasted blood.
They didn’t want to be tied down like their mums and grand-mums. They didn’t want to get married and have children. They had experienced ‘independence’. This led to a major drop in the population growth. To maintain the ratio and lure women back into the family fold, the government started offering a myriad of facilities like nanny services, work from home options, a substantial amount of money for each child born and the likes. So, the women could then work and also have a family at the same time.
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A view of the city from the basilique of Sacré Coeur, a 19th century church of sacred heart, just a couple of steps away from Piggale ( one of the ‘adult’ places in the heart of the city). Photo: Supriya Arcot[/caption]
Paris carries several lucrative destinations 
A drive-in animal zoo at Parc De Thoiry. Photo: Supriya Arcot[/caption]
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An egg hunt in progress in le chateau de Vaux Le Vicomte. Photo: Supriya Arcot[/caption]
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A peacock dancing inside a cage as birds and small animals (like mongoose) are kept inside the cages in all zoos. Photo: Supriya Arcot[/caption]
The holocaust museum is another one of a kind – it should be ‘felt’ and not just ‘seen’. Go there only if you dare. Each time I visit it, I come back with an awkward lump in my throat. It’s right in the heart of Paris, in Le Marais, which is a very historic pocket of the city.
Remember, I told you, this is not your routine travel guide, so I am not mentioning the obvious Eiffel Tower, The Louvre (which hosts the Mona Lisa), Disneyland or Sienne.
Fashion
No write-up on Paris is complete without at least a passing mention of the fashion. They don’t call Paris the fashion capital for nothing. People are very figure-and-fashion conscious. It’s rare to spot a fat and flabby figure, male or female, in this part of the world. I mean they do exist, but it’s rare.
Everyone is neatly and immaculately dressed all the time. Rarely will you see a shabbily or carelessly dressed person (like the loosely called chaves in England) on the street. The main street of Paris, Champs-Élysées, is one nonstop fashion runway with grand shops on both sides, the Arc De Triomphe at one end and l’Arche de la Défense on the other.
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Photo: Reuters[/caption]
With so many attractions to offer in the fields of fashion, cuisine, sightseeing, leisure, and religion, Audrey Hepburn was right when she said,
Among the dead at Charlie Hebdo: Deputy chief editor Bernard Maris and cartoonists Georges Wolinski, Jean Cabut, Stephane Charbonnier, who was also editor-in-chief, and Bernard Verlhac[/caption]
Erasing differences that actually exist seems to be the purpose here, and it’s perhaps appropriate to the Charlie cartoons, which drew their force from a considered contempt for people with the temerity to be different. For the last few days, everybody’s been quoting Voltaire. The same line is all over my several timelines:
https://twitter.com/thereaIbanksy/status/552960897522479105/photo/1
Photo: IMDb[/caption]
Photo: IMDb[/caption]
A film that is likely to make you laugh and cry at the same sitting, Life is Beautiful stays true to its title and gives you a truly beautiful film.
Set in Italy during the 
Photo: IMDb[/caption]
Photo: IMDb[/caption]
Very rarely does one see a film that operates on the same level as 
Photo: IMDb[/caption]
Before 
Photo: IMDb[/caption]
One of the greatest films of the 
Photo: IMDb[/caption]
Photo: IMDb[/caption]
Photo: IMDb[/caption]
An intimately persevering film about street life and racism in France, 
Photo: IMDb[/caption]
Photo: Saba Khalid[/caption]
Need help replicating the look; refer to Good Times and Sunday Times galleries for inspiration. Add fake or real LV bag to complete look. Botox on your face is hazb-zaiqa!
2. The conventional (read: boring) models
I don’t encourage underage anorexic models and it’s completely okay if majority of 
Photo: Saba Khalid[/caption]
3. The trashy ill-fitting western wear attempts
Pakistani designers, let’s admit something. You can’t do western wear. So that little black dress you made with jamawar looks like the model is wearing her nani’s tikozi. So please, put your scissors away because that chunri jumpsuit looks like rainbow barf. You’re good at eastern wear, embrace your niche and 
Photo: Saba Khalid[/caption]
And socialites please accept something. All the western wear you wear from Pakistani designers fits badly and looks ugly. If you really want to farangi it out, get your western attire from abroad or stick to the ikka dukka high street international brands available locally.
4. Feminine clothing for men
Yes, we know you designers want to be avant garde and all that jazz! And it’s hard to be that way with the eastern silhouette for men. But it’s unfair to send a 
Photo: Saba Khalid[/caption]
5. How un-fashionable the fashion journalists are
So many people with no fashion background or good taste are reporting on fashion that it baffles me. The list includes me! It baffles me even more how easily fashion journalists are bought! Send a girl a free bag and she’ll write an erotic 50 shades series on your label.
FYI, this pointer should serve as a reminder to 
Photo: Saba Khalid[/caption]
6. The pretend friendships and the cattiness
This incident is all too common. A designer in the audience gives a standing ovation for a collection and claps as the bashful designer walks at the end of the show. The lights dim and that same appreciative designer turns to his fashion journalist friend and says:
Photo: Saba Khalid[/caption]
7. The mafia
It kills me to know that the fashion mafia in Pakistan is so strong that new designers or artists can’t really shine through. Brands tend to work with certain 
Photo: Saba Khalid[/caption]
Just like the politics, politicians and the corrupt system of the country, the 
“Oh, you’re on holiday, you must enjoy it,” she tells her, while dropping thick, heavy spoonful’s of double cream on a slice of the cake in her daughter-in-law’s plate.
A recipe passed down to Yassi by her own mother, a recipe older than her marriage; even older than her son. A dense, dark, earthy cake moistened with the gooeyness of dates, almost like a steamed pudding.
As I said, every day is a special day in Yassi’s home. You can have that cake, and eat it, too.
For a gluten-free version, you can use a combination of gluten-free ‘flours’, for the recipe, please refer to the Gluten-Free Goddess’ website 
Wishing everyone a lovely Eid with your loved ones.
This post originally appeared 
A young girl from Kailash in native dress. Photo: Asfandi Yar.[/caption]
Contrary to the 
Polo Tournament, Shandur. Photo: Asfandi Yar.[/caption]
Pakistan has produced some of the best squash, hockey, and cricket players in the world. In the last year alone, Pakistan won gold, silver and bronze positions in international cricket, hockey, snooker, tennis, and bodybuilding championships, including its female teams. It also 
Artist Ali Zafar with young cricket fans. Photo: Yasir Nisar Photography.[/caption]
Well, where do we start?
Just to name a few achievements from 2014 alone, a Pakistani 
Shandur. Photo: Asfandi Yar.[/caption]
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Sajji Kot, Abbotabad. Photo: Ahmad Waqas Photography.[/caption]
Former Telegraph Political Commentator, 
Record breaking anti-government protest , Islamabad, November 2014. Photo: Aqib Mughal.[/caption]
Most people will not know that the most popular genre of Pakistan television is not the sitcom or the soap opera, it is the political talk shows. Two thirds of the Pakistani population is aged 30 or below, and with the International Monetary Fund (IMF) 
Badshai Mosque, Lahore. Photo: Yasir Nisar Photography.[/caption]
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Badshai Mosque, Lahore. Photo: Asiph Mehmood Tea Co Solutions.[/caption]
Pakistan is like four seasons at any one time. In Pakistan, you will discover the most 
Cricketer Shahid Afridi with a young student during an education campaign. Photo: MASH.[/caption]
Last year, Pakistan broke its own record for the world’s youngest Microsoft Certified Professional. A scientist of Pakistani origin made an unprecedented discovery in neuroscience. It was the 
It is the first day of January of 2016. Yes, the New Year has begun. We are all a bit older, wiser, and sadly, a little closer to death. Naturally, this is the perfect time to look back at some of the news stories that made headlines in Pakistan and across the world.
Girls at Dhabas:
For Pakistanis worn down by the taxing life of the big city, nothing quite reignites the brain cells like a good cup of doodh pati (tea). Sold at dhabas (roadside restaurants), these delicious cups of hot tea brewed in milk are consumed by the masses at every corner of the country with great regularity.
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Photo: Indiegogo[/caption]
While women aren’t barred from dhabas, they aren’t as regular a fixture at these small tea shops as men due to various social norms. When regular tea consuming friends Sadia Khatri, Natasha Ansari, Rabeea Arif and Najia Khan, decided to 
Photo: Reuters[/caption]
After some 
Oh those poor unmarried girls. Thank goodness this guy came along!
There are so many things wrong with this story. First of all, would the opposite have been okay? Would a woman have been applauded for saving two men from bachelorhood? Also, who says 
Photo: Dunya News[/caption]
In lighter news, a woman from Sialkot 
As it turns out, the entire report was flawed. 
Photo: ZAP2IT[/caption]
Please play with us India:
In 2015, the Pakistan Cricket Board (PCB) somewhat shamelessly chased its Indian counterpart to agree to a series. While the Indians remained impassive, the PCB released strange contradictory statements almost on a weekly basis regarding the series, hilariously giving their neighbours deadlines that the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) clearly didn’t care about.
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PCB Chairman Shaharyar Khan. Photo: AFP[/caption]
Ultimately, after months of trying to woo them, the 
Paris and The Refugee Crisis:
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Rescuers workers evacuate victims near the Bataclan concert hall in central Paris, on November 13, 2015. A number of people were killed and others injured in a series of gun attacks across Paris, as well as explosions outside the national stadium where France was hosting Germany. Photo: AFP[/caption]
This last year was an alarming period where extremism made headlines with great frequency. The 
Photo: AFP[/caption]
The potential for terrorism has certainly affected the way we have lived our lives in 2015. Precautionary measures have affected both public transportation and air travel. Here in Pakistan, we too have had to deal with the inconvenience of restricted freedoms. This past year, more draconian measures were introduced in parliament designed to curb internet privacy in the name of protection. Most recently, 
Photo: Mohammad Noman / Express[/caption]
Even New Year’s Day was a sombre affair in Karachi. Roads were shut down and 
It was another bad year to be an Ahmadi in Pakistan. In Jhelum, Punjab, a factory owned by the Ahmadiyya community was 
Photo: Reuters[/caption]
Not a few months later, mobile shop owners at Hafeez Centre 
The Kingdom has made headlines in 2015 for a variety of undesirable reasons. One of the most curious news stories was regarding Saudi Grand Mufti Sheikh Abdul Aziz, who has previously reportedly issued a fatwa that men should eat their wives when hungry. He 
Saudi Grand Mufti Sheikh Abdul Aziz. Photo: AFP[/caption]
Look Mr Grand Mufti, we realise that Israel’s treatment of Palestinians has been deplorable, but let’s give credit where it’s due:
1. The 
Pakistan:
This was 
Star Wars:
Sure, The Force Awakens wasn’t perfect. For one, it closely followed the blueprint of A New Hope. For the other, it carried a couple of plot holes larger than Jabba the Hut’s head. But it was the most entertaining film of the year and revived a franchise that had been nearly killed by the prequel trilogy. Perhaps it is because I am a diehard 
Photo: AP[/caption]
New York’s subway stations are flooded with “
Photo: IMDb[/caption]
I saw the docu-comedy film The Muslims Are Coming when it premiered in New York City in 2013. It showed a group of Muslim comedians performing stand-up comedy across the country, making jokes about Muslims. It was the first time many Americans had personally met a Muslim and it changed their perception of 
Photo: Robert Lee Bailey[/caption]
Since social media campaigns such as 
Photo: Reuters[/caption]
In the wake of the 
Photo: New York Times[/caption]
The poster campaign in the New York City subway system is a clever and humorous way to create a more accurate understanding of Muslim beliefs and accomplishments.
Photo: Guardian[/caption]
Photo: File[/caption]
In the first novella, ‘Afterimage’, the narrator is recollecting memories of a photographer called Francis Jensen, who he met and knew in Paris as a young man. After realising the quality of his magnum and avant-garde work the narrator decides to undertake the task of cataloging the photographer’s archives. In doing so, he is piecing together the parts of a puzzle that help him understand why the eccentric photographer slowly and resolutely drifted away from life.
The title novella, ‘Suspended Sentences’, is the standout in this small collection. It is the also the liveliest of the three. It takes the form of a childhood memoir in which young Patoche is abandoned by his parents and is living with a surrogate family along with his brother. The family is no ordinary one. The life in their house is densely populated by peculiar family friends who arrive in opulent American cars and hold surreptitious meetings with the family. As young Patoche reminisces the jouncing memories of his time there, he is flooded by a distant feeling of suspicious nostalgia.
The final piece, ‘Flowers of Ruin’ is darker and more mysterious than its predecessors. The narrator recalls his teenage years in Paris, during the 1960s, and traces the connections between the people he knew and the “tragic orgy”, during which a young and newly married couple commits suicide for unknown reasons after they attend a party one evening with a few other couples who are even more dubious and strange.
In these three, svelte and minutely observed novellas, memory and experience are marked by fluidity and transience. The lives of the characters flicker against the tapestry of the past and they slide back and forth in time. And in this book, through his delicate, subtle and restrained observation of his characters’ past lives, Modiano creates a fine and frightening study of how the past preys upon the present.
‘Suspended Sentences’ is so flawlessly written that it feels as if Modiano is drawing us into a dream. From the opening sentence of this book, I felt myself under the spell of a master storyteller and a brilliant prose stylist. These novellas are written in Modiano’s signature style which mixes restrained elegance with laconic tenderness and dry humor. His novels have often been described as the literary form of detective stories, however, the irony is that the mysteries he scrutinises are never completely solved, hence he keeps returning to them and treads the same terrain again and again with an uncanny compulsiveness.
‘Suspended sentences’ verifies our ability to remember as a mean of saving our moral and empathetic identity. Modiano’s characters are concerned with examining their consciousness and searching for their identity, and this tangled trail becomes more essential as they slowly become more disconnected from their lives. The three novellas in this exquisite and splendid collection are as accessible as they are engrossing and as mysterious as they are poised. And what gives this book an air of amiable readability is that Modiano’s style is as lucid and uncomplicated as his subject matter is weighty and dark.
While there is a plethora of picaresque images and rich atmospheric detail, the prose is never dense. In fact, one of the greatest pleasures of reading this book is Modiano’s supremely light touch and the smoothness of his prose. Another thing that Modiano obsessively toys with is ambiguity, which lingers palpably on every page of the book. The narrative, in each of the novellas, seems to encircle a theme that is never blatantly discussed. There is no climax in these stories. And though one turns the mesmerising pages with delightful anticipation, fervently awaiting for some revelation that accounts for and explains all the mysteries but Modiano doesn’t grant his readers that satisfaction.
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Photo: Guardian[/caption]
He continuously drops hints and instigates speculations, but he leaves the reader enmeshed in a bizarre sense of bewilderment. He gives us the plot and the characters, but he leaves the job of creating the meaning of its experience to us. Hence, finishing the book one shares the feelings of one of the characters in the book:
Photo: AFP[/caption]
At the heart of the book are the claustrophobic and morose lives of three Indian immigrants and a British-Indian girl. The three men, Tochi, Avtar and Randeep share a congested and ramshackle house in Sheffield along with a hoard of other migrant workers. Although Randeep’s wife, Narinder, is the female protagonist in the novel, their relationship is not that of a typical married couple; they don’t live in the same house, don’t talk to each other and they don’t love each other.
At the beginning of the book, in short, swiftly-moving chapters, Sahota gives readers phosphorescent screenshots of the lives of these men prior to their arrival in UK and describes with an unrelenting compassion the early trials and tribulations faced by them upon their arrival in Sheffield. He writes about their early days of 
Photo: Spectator[/caption]
Picking up its pace in the second half, the story plays a well thought out game of chess with the lives of it vulnerable characters; confronting, daring, defeating and building them up again as their relationships blossom and their lives converge. With every new turn they make, there seems to be a new hardship glaring straight into their eyes, with uncanny and unhindered stubbornness only to give them a false sense of hope before bringing the three men and Narindar to their knees, again.
There is little redemption in this novel. It is seismic in terms of the melancholy it gathers over the course of over five hundred pages. With constant brush strokes, Sahota paints a picture that is as fresh as it is raw, as downhearted as it is unforgiving. In lives rife with temporary marriages, illegal works and the dangling dangers of expiring student visas, Sahota kindles and rekindles an impending sense of 
Photo: Atlantic[/caption]
The Year of the Runaways packs an intensely compelling narrative and enthralling odyssey, which unfurls before the eyes of its mesmerised reader, and brings startling revelations that are sometimes beautiful, always heart-warming and but never implausible or awkwardly contrived. The characters and the worlds they are inhabitants of feel as real as our own. The remarkably gifted writer uses subtlety and poignancy with immense skill, in what is just his second novel to date, for which his work will be remembered in the years to come.
Dimitri Payet's tackle on the Real Madrid man was forceful but the Frenchman won the ball.
Cristiano Ronaldo departed the Euro 2016 final with knee injury, shedding tears after suffering the knock.
The former Manchester United man screamed in agony after the challenge from Payet that ended his night
Ronaldo was distraught as the Portugal medical team helped him off the pitch and out of the game
The Portugal captain was carried off on a stretcher in the 24th minute, his Euro 2016 final over
France's Moussa Sissoko, center, challenges for the ball with Portugal's Cedric, right and Portugal's William Carvalho, during the Euro 2016 final soccer match between Portugal and France at the Stade de France.
A rueful Ronaldo puts the captain's armband on Nani as it becomes clear the Real man can't go on.
France's Andre Pierre Gignac shoots past Portugal goalkeeper Rui Patricio, second from right, to hit the goal post during the Euro 2016 final soccer match.
Raphael Guerreiro hit the crossbar with a free-kick in extra-time, but it was Eder who finally struck the decisive blow, arrowing a low shot beyond Lloris.
The knee injury did not stop the skipper from getting up off his seat to encourage the Portugal team
Fernando Santos
After the final whistle Ronaldo's knee injury seemed to slip into insignificance as he celebrated the win.
By the end of the night the agony had been exchanged for ecstasy as Portugal won 1-0 in extra time