I fell in love with this pattern last year and started crochet-knitting this purse.
The purse was done in Tunision Crochet stitch which is supposed to be done with an Afghan hook.
A cute plaything…
A friend asked me to make a toy for his nephew. I made him this cute ball puzzle thing that can be separated and put together.
This is one portion of it.
A little pouch for a colleague
A colleague friend asked me to make her a mobile pouch. I couldn’t find the best pattern for a specific mobile pouch so I made her this instead. It uses the crocodile or mermaid shell stitch, which was pretty hard to handle in the beginning, but well worth the big grin she had on her face when I gave it to her as her Eidi. :)
In the making
Bookmarks for my Friends
Baby Shoes
In Memory of my grandfather….
Our beloved departed father, grandfather, and great grandfather, Mahmood Ahmed Farooqui’s book, Evocative Epistles, compiled by Mamoon Akhtar Farooqui, was reviewed recently by ex-Ambassador Mr Karamatullah K Ghori, from Toronto, Canada, and published in the Pakistan Link Newspaper, New York. Please download Pakistan Link – Sept 4, 2015 – Pages 8-9 to read properly.
Please click on image to see full size on new tab, then magnify.
In memory
Obituary
Inna Lillah e Wa Inna Aleh e Ra’ajioon.
My dear Phuppa Ahsan Ul Haq has passed away on 26th January 2015. :(
Hé was a treasure chest of azadi memories and a great n loving man. He was loved by all and will be very greatly missed.
Dear Phuppa we love you and always will. May Allah guide your soul to Jannah n give it peace. Ameen.
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Mister Terrorist
You came to my school one day,
And interrupted my class,
I was enjoying myself making things,
I was attending my art class.
You disrupted my discipline,
You destroyed my dear school,
You came in with big fat guns,
And left us in blood pools.
I was enjoying making a sail boat,
My friend was painting trees,
My brother was in Physics class,
My sister in History.
But you came in anyway,
As selfish as you were,
You did not see my age,
My learning was just taking a start.
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Dedication…
Some days back, I finished reading the very brilliant book, “The Rescue” by Nicholas Sparks. I was so inspired by it, that I decided to write a poem for him, using names of his own books:
Dear John,
At First Sight, when I saw it,
I became a True Believer
I sent up a Message in a Bottle
And like a Guardian
Your Notebook
Came to my Rescue
I made a Choice
And had a Walk to Remember
In a Safe Haven
I knew I was the Lucky One
When the Best of Me
Took the Bend in the Road
And heard the Last Song
Before taking the Longest Ride
To spend some Nights at Rhodante
In memory of a Gul Mohar Tree
My dear Gul Mohar in it’s prime
Coming home from office on the evening of September 5th, 2013, I stopped at the cobbler’s. I had given my purse to him in the morning for repairs and had to retrieve it at that time. Since the cobbler was still doing something with the purse, I parked the car on one side and my dad alighted from the car to get my purse. While I was parked, I heard some shots coming from not very far away. Since the corner of the cobbler is the same corner that is almost the end of the street my home stands on, I got worried.
I was trying to figure out what is going on – difficult while sitting in the driver’s seat and only fidgeting about – when my Khala called on my mobile phone. While I attended the call, I saw in the side view mirror as my father peeked out from the corner the cobbler was sitting in. If we hadn’t stopped at the cobbler’s, I daresay we would have been at the corner of our street calculating parking the car in our garage and witnessed the whole scenario that happened there. Needless to say, that was unimportant since it was a good thing we had stopped, as it shall be evident further down in my account.
