When The Little Things Mattered

When The Little Things Mattered has been created to remind you of times when life was easy to get along with; you know, the kind with memories that rush back to you at once, making you smile so much and feel good on the inside?

In hard times and times of gloom, clinching on to these memories is sometimes what keeps all of us afloat.

This page has been created exclusively for you to share those figments of the past with the world over. Who knows your vivid memory may just be the thing that provides the much needed uplift in someone else's life.

You can share your thoughts through your comments below, or by emailing me at arslan.saeed@hotmail.co.uk.

Because sometimes, we all need to smile.

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Entry#1 (01/09/10)

I had to learn Surah Al-Balad for a Quran class at school, once. There was one ayaah that I knew so well and I really hoped the teacher would hear that one from me, but since she could ask us to recite any part of the surah, I was worried I could land with the bits I didn't remember as much. 

I really wished she would hear me recite the part of the surah I wanted to.

Next morning, the day of the test, she actually did! And I had that one opportunity in front of her to shine (since I wasn't one of her favourite students). She was thoroughly impressed!

And then afterwards, the school had organised a magic show for us. Eternal bliss.

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Entry#2 (02/09/10)

When my sister was little, she used to ask my Mum if the Earth was spinning. You can imagine her dressed in polka dots, with two bulging eyes.

"Mama, is the Earth spinning?"

My Mum would reply, "Yes it is."

"You are supposed to say, no it isn't," my sister would say.

"Okay, no it isn't," my Mum would answer, playing along.

"Yes it is!" would be my sister's reply then, as she went round and round in circles, shouting, "See?! It's spinning!"

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Entry#3 (04/09/10)

Shared by Ali Faizan Kazmi, a tight friend. Thank you.

Me and my twin brother had applied to four Universities in the United Kingdom. But our Dad forced us to apply to universities in Canada too, after a heated discussion.

Dad also enforced a rule which said we would have to go to the same university unless we absolutely had no choice. Weeks passed, and our opportunities in the UK started looking grimmer and grimmer. One university would accept me but wait on my brother, or reject him altogether, and vice versa, while in the foreground I could see every friend of mine happily go to different parts of the world.

Then one night I cried for the better part of an hour in bed, convincing myself that my Dad would be indecisive as he had always been, and in the end we would be trapped in Riyadh (Saudi Arabia). 

But the things that hadn't happened in almost four months, happened in two weeks! Dad finally got tired of thinking and let us decide where to go, we got the visa letters from the university of our choice, and got the visa for the UK in five days. We were a good three weeks late for university, but at least we were there.

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Entry#4 (01/10/10)
Shared by Tazeen, fellow blogger. Thank you so very much!


"Come on, child, it's time to sleep," she patted the mattress beside her.

"But I don't want to sleep!" the little girl moaned as she trudged towards the bed and plopped by her mother's side.

"Close your eyes now."

The girl closed her lovely round eyes tightly and tiny wrinkles appeared at the corner of her eyes.

"You're feel sleepy..." her mother crooned in a hypnotising voice, "you're now sleepy..."

The girl opened her eyes and retorted, "I am not sleepy!"

"Close your eyes!"

She shut her eyes despite the fact that she was not sleepy at all.

"Now imagine you're in the lush green gardens of Heav'n. On your right is a marvellous waterfall with pure white milk flowing from it..."

"But I don't like milk!"

Ignoring the girl, her mother continued, "And on your other side is a river of the sweetest honey you can ever imagine!"

"But I hate honey!"

"Okay, there are a lot of trees there too with every fruit you could think of!"

"Mummy, I don't eat fruits!" The girl was thoroughly disappointed.

"The angels will bring biryani for you!"

A slow smile spread across the girl's face as she exclaimed, "Yes!" and started to fall asleep...

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Entry#5 (02/06/11)

Shared by Neshmia, fellow blogger. Brilliant stuff!

I hog the front car seat.

It is the first afternoon of our trip to California. Pops’ wristwatch indicates that it is about three o’ clock, approximately four hours after we had first landed at the airport. My mother, exhausted from packing and the flight, crashed out straight on the sofa in Pops’ apartment. But my little siblings and I were far from tired; in fact, our energy was bubbling out of us and excitement was making us bounce in our car seats.

Our first sight of the ocean.

It is awe-inspiring. As I stand over the jagged shelf of hard rock, staring down at the waves, I feel surreal. Four days ago, I was lying on my bed, panting in the sweltering heat of June in Islamabad, my eyes fixed on the clock, waiting for the load-shedding to be over. Now, I was watching the sea-green waves curl and toss as if they were alive, foamy and white-tipped at their peaks. I take the camera out.

 “Pictures,” I announce.

It’s a gorgeous snapshot. Pops, dressed in a casual T-shirt, is sitting in a crouch, his hands big on my little brother’s thin waist. My sister, wearing a colourful orange and red striped shirt, her hands on Pops’ shoulders as she leaned forward, a big, glorious smile stretching from corner to corner of her face. Her black hair, shorter than mine, flies in the wind. And as I take the picture, I too feel like I am flying. Light as a feather, carefree as a bird.

It’s happiness at its peak.

But there’s more. I want to experience it all. I don’t want to just view the ocean atop a cliff. No, I want to go to the beach, feel the damp, grainy sand between my toes and the water rush around my ankles.

And so, half an hour later, we are on our way to Half Moon Bay. An hour later, and I am carving my name into the sand with my big toe. My jeans are rolled up, yet they managed to get thoroughly wet and full of sand, and I feel thankful that my mother, who paid the healthy bill for them, is not here to see them now. My little brother and my father have abandoned their shirts – heaven knows where they are now. Unwilling to get his shorts dirty, my brother borrowed a spare pair that Baba found in the car. The orange shorts are too big for him; he looks ridiculously funny.

The waves are strong and my little brother, who is the skinniest amongst us, tumbles over in the sand a dozen times. I watch my sister poking fun at his futile efforts to remain upright. I watch him in his too-big shorts, and I watch my father too, laughing so hard that he is bent over.

I carve their names in the sand too. Next to mine. And I enclose them with the outline of a heart.

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