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Author Archives: Novid Shaid
I’m A Muslim Man In Britain
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I’m an alien, I’m a legal alien. Sting
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This is what I think it means to be a British Muslim today, who was born and bred in England but hailed from immigrant parents. To have an eclectic medley of voices swirling around in your brain. Living and constantly shifting between different worlds, religions, languages, cultures, traditions and voices, all competing for some kind of hold on your identity, on your spirit, your will. All this baggage, mixed-loyalties, competing face masks and fashions stuffed into a short-lived life, which, for many of us, typically consists of home, school, mosque and holidays to Pakistan and the holy lands or whichever country you hail from.
Salman The Green Of Syria
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Salman the Green of Syria
Roamed the streets in search of marifah
Missiles whizzed and whined above his head
Children hid and the skinny street dogs fled.
When I Tasted Their Tears
I wrote this poem in response to this moving footage of the Abu Shaar brothers’ visitation of the blessed resting place of Imam Al Hussain in Cairo, may Allah sanctify his secret. I am exploring the possible reaction of a twisted mind, if it was among the audience…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hMg48Uc22l0
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When I tasted their tears
my heart never recovered
I felt the love that touched their souls
that moved these blessed brothers.
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The Living And The Dead
In honour of Sidi Ahmad Zarruq’s maqam in Misrata.
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“Knock it! Burn it! Pulverise it to the ground!”
They cheered uncovering Az Zarruq’s mound.
“In the name of pure and unadulterated tawheed
We cleanse this wretched house of idolatry!
For Allah’s deen this is a clear victory!
And may God curse those who make this dead man their deity!
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I Came Across An Atheist
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I came across an atheist
who spoke with irony,
He asked me: “are you Muslim?”
I replied: “most certainly!”
He scoffed and cocked his eyebrow
regarding me with disdain
“how could you believe in” he said,
“a bunch of fairy tales!
True Stories: The Rise and the Fall of Aylesbury Asians FC 1991-1992 Part 1
(Parental Advisory- bad language)
During the early 1990s, an amazing thing happened to the flourishing British Pakistani community in Aylesbury. An event, I am proud to proclaim, that I was part of.
So what was it?
A royal visit to the Pakistani ghetto? (Fleet Street, Havelock Street and New Street)
An opportunity to meet Pakistani cricketing icons like Wasim Akram and Waqar Younis? (I’m sure some of the guys actually fancied Waqar…)
A chance to win free PIA tickets?
Dream on!
Be With Me
Bankrupt
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At the Malay stock exchange, one early morning, the managing director of Huwa industries appeared in a dreadful state, with his shirt untucked, his tie hanging wildly around his neck, pacing around, in his bare feet, in a never-ending circle, lamenting:
“I’ve lost it all…..I’ve missed it……What will he say?”
The March Of The Gazan Babies
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While the rank and file of defiant Hamas
Locked down the city for imminent attack
While the suffering mothers of the Gaza strip
Gathered up their brood for a perilous trip
While the tanks and the trucks of the IDF
Charged along the highway like a crazed express