The Sleepwell Club - My Documentry Project at Rifah



2 more projects I will upload soon...

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3 Days to Remember (The Last Jalsa Salana in Rabwah)

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Today as the Jalsa UK 2013 is about to start , the mind is full of memories of moments spent. This time the focus of these memories is the Jalsa Salana that was held in Rabwah. My memories are conflicted between two emotions, one is filled with the beautiful mements of Jalsa Rabwah and the second is the fire of longing that burns in my heart which is reignited when I start to remember, its like a thirst which cannot be replenished & the reason for that is, like so many others I am of that generation which has not witnessed the Jalsa Rabwah in its full glory. There are a few vague memories, which are blurred by the limitations of childhood. Going through the streets of Rabwah when one passes in front of the different Langar Khanas in every Mohallah of Rabwah one cannot help but wonder at the hustle and bustle these places would have seen and what our elders tell us about. 1983. The last ever Jalsa held in Rabwah, the last time a populous of more than 250,000 made Rabwah ...
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My Brother Munawer Ahmad Nadeem

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It’s so hard to imagine a world without Bhai Jaan, and yet here we are. I feel like I’ve lost my father twice. He was always there, someone I could consult when facing tough decisions. He always stopped me from wavering. Every two weeks or so, he would call just to check on me… “Sab theek hai? Tum theek ho?” I would try to do the same, but he always had the upper hand. I’m trying to remember things about him that I can write down, and I realise that apart from some memories I know very little about him. He was eighteen years my senior, so I didn’t share a childhood with him the way my elder brother and sister did. He was righteous and firm on moral principles. If he thought you were wrong, he would tell you directly, but with sincerity. As for me, he guided me and often pointed out things to me like an elder should. I remember when I was in 3rd grade, Bhai Jaan used to have his coats hanging, and there was always a chocolate bar in one of the pockets. Every day I would eat it, but the ...
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The banjo is real....

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The banjo of life keeps bajjing… Life main changes are here but the bullshit bakwas apni jaga… Sitting here at the dentist one does ponder upon one’s choices… The fitay munh people you have encountered along the way and why you have to still endure their bakwasment. Why you ask you ask yourself, why was I meant to deal with this… why of all the falooda people I was stuck with this kachi lassi...  Speaking of dealing with things—when I was in Brampton, noticed many quirks of the people there. Like there are more desis there than Jhalandar. You see the person sitting next to you on the bus and wonder, “Iskay ghar fautgi hoyee hay?” There’s a stark difference in people’s faces in Brampton and this city… Over there you always saw faces that were tired and bewildered, I guess some bewis had to do with some of that, but I saw women like that as well. It’s the running, I tell myself. Running towards something or another but always wanting more, never being content with what you have. You ...
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