By Raffique Shah
November 19, 2024

The world is what it was, and what it always has been. I am convinced of this now more than I was when I wrote last week’s column. Bullet-riddled corpses, and headless bodies pile up in morgues throughout the country. I watched communities under armed siege as the media promote the newly discovered crime cradle, bullying. I rock back in my chair and murmur: This is it, this is it, this is it. I feel like the madman in David Rudder’s “Chant” (“Madman’s Rant”). I wondered aloud, what has changed?
Continue reading To slay a beast →

By Raffique Shah
October 30, 2024

I felt like Marlon Brando must have done in the opening scene, I believe it was, of The Godfather as he stuttered in his trademark nasal tone, issuing instructions from the Godfather to generations that would run the mafia after he was gone. No, I was not about to die or anything as dramatic as that.

Rosina had favoured us with that last farewell a few months ago, teaching us what the finality of death means: no more giggles, no more hugs, no more warmth—nothing as dramatic as that. It was a gathering of Generation Y of the Shahs, that my youngest brother, Feroze, thought we should assemble at my bedside for the youngest offspring to enjoy each other’s company, but most of all to give me an opportunity to see, hear, even feel these young ones, who have already staked their claims for leadership of the clan when I and my siblings and in-laws will have moved on.
Continue reading Generation Y →