My Son.

Today I shall talk about my son.

When he was growing up, he was the talk of the town and the tri-state, for his tennis prowess. He was a fantastic tennis player and the various schools in the area still talk to their tennis teams about him and his focused and dedicated way he won the tournaments and his games at the State every single year of his high school career. He excelled in the game as a college student and won the championship for the college after a lapse of almost twenty dry years without a trophy for that institution.
As a teenager, he was like all the others, cocky, (not arrogant), just sort of cocky, and knew that he “could do anything he wanted!” Didn’t have much money sense… thought money grew on the trees that mom was tending to.

This same kid, when he went away to college, developed such a phenomenal sense of money management, that he wowed us all. After working for Wells Fargo in Chicago for about seven or eight years he came back home and developed his own independent wealth management firm. And by God’s grace he is doing very well.

The local school board was getting ready for elections about four years back,and along with two other guys he ran for the membership. Got elected with great outcome of votes in his favor. One year later the Board unanimously voted to make him the president of the school board. He is the youngest guy in the school Board and he has done amazing work for the school district. In the first year as a member he initiated the referendum to improve the physical appearance of schools by building five new schools. The community was asked to vote for this referendum, which was to the tune of $80,000,000. I didn’t think it would pass. But Sayeed was on the news urging the community to make Quincy a great educational city where there would be great teachers, and teaching in great buildings. All the previous buildings were run down and the ,space was limited in the classrooms. The referendum passed with flying colors. The first elementary school was opened this September, and it is a State of the Art Building.

Now, why am I touting all this about Sayeed? Not just because he is my son, but because he is a genuinely decent human being who has a sound head on his shoulders and who is compassionate and caring for his community and for education.

Last year the Union started getting itchy and demanded a lot of different things for the teachers and for every single person who worked in the school district, ie: bus drivers, janitors, cooks, groundskeepers, you name it and they were all represented by the Union and it was demanding more pay and more pay and more health insurance. I don’t know if you all know about the state of our state (Illinois) and in what desperate rut we are into with regards to budget. Sayeed and the superintendent worked with the Union as much as possible, but like the saying goes, “you cannot get milk out of a turnip!” So the Union said, “we don’t care, we are going to strike!”

This was such a blow to Sayeed and the entire school Board. Over the last year the meetings were held where Sayeed negotiated with brilliance. The community was so amazed at this young man who could talk the way he did and, let me tell you, he was so sincere; and with every ounce of faith and conviction he tried reason with the union. It was no use. So the community was told that the schools would be shut down because of the strike as of November 20th. (Next Monday!) We were all so unhappy. I felt so bad for my baby. He had worked so hard to make Quincy a learning center with great educational system and fine physical institutions.

He told the Union, “go ahead! Strike if you must. Remember the consequences. The children are the victims. You are taking them as hostages. All of us need more money and more insurance coverages. We have to learn to sacrifice so we can improve the quality of life of our children. When I was a fifth grader, there was strike and the schools were closed for almost three weeks. There was such disruption to the lives of all people here. Young working mothers had to find baby sitters for their little children, or let go of their jobs so they could be with their children. Family lives became difficult, money was not coming into the homes as their pay checks.” And he gave such excellent examples of what happens when people become selfish and greedy to gain importance by the wrong intentions and misplaced convictions of “helping” the household!

There were so many meetings between Sayeed and the Union. SO FRIKKING MANY! Every day he was in the news, and on the front page of the newspaper. Yesterday the union asked all it members to come and vote, to see how many wanted to strike and those that didn’t want to!

The overwhelming majority voted against striking!!! The community sat with their jaws to the floor, amazed that the strike was averted. Sayeed was in Chicago yesterday, and the local TV channels contacted him and got his views about the success of his mission. Anyone interested can read about all this on, and or go to KHQA news from yesterday at,, and you will hear my prince.


So, I am happy; it will be a great thanksgiving. Thank you for reading this. I am sorry I made this such a long post.


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Building a House

And now we have built this house
in our dreams; you and I smile and say together,
‘this is my house!’

These bricks are the dreams we have
cemented together, the roof is the love
that covers us.

The light within this house is blinding with
your light, of your desires and every corner
is resplendent with the glow.

My house, simple and humble like my love
asks that we decorate it with our desires
and have blooming flowers of our hearts
on every window sill.

In this house of mine, in this house of yours
we would never rent or borrow happiness,
our togetherness, will be enough,

And I will tell you, this house of mine
is a lovely house, for others to envy.©


Zakiah Sayeed
November 2017.

I think it is kind of cheesy!! Forgive me. My mind is going in all kinds of directions.  Z.

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That Look in Your Eyes

When you look at me the way you do
the beauty and magic of your eyes spills
all over me.

I still my breath, my lips learn to smile again,
I see recognize the flowers, and their beauty
cloaks me with love.

When you look at me the way you do,
I begin to hope, again! I grasp desire
from inside my heart, again.

You look at me like that, and I feel
you becoming part of my heartbeat again
please, don’t tease me again!

My thoughts and emotions had withered
you with the beguiling magic of your eyes
don’t let me long and hope, yet again!©

Zakiah Sayeed
November 2nd 2017.

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My Muse

My Muse ©

My Muse refuses to let me touch her
doesn’t mind when she’s flirted by others~
I scream at her at her sadistic morals
but she ignores me.

My muse is a whore;
she sidles up to the Toms and Dicks and Harrys
of my blogosphere, lets them fondle her
while I watch in exasperated disbelief.

My Muse, she teases me, tells me she loves me
tells me she plays around, so I could gather
my own feelings and love and desire
and face her sitting down, while she bows at my feet.©

Zakiah Sayeed.
November 1st 2017.

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True Story in India.

Cancel your credit card before you die………

A lady died in 2016 January, and HDFC Bank billed her for Feb ’16 & Mar ’16 for *annual service charges* on her credit card, and *added late fees* and *interest* on the monthly charges!!!
The balance had been Rs.0.00 when she died, but now it was around Rs.6000.
A family member placed a call to HDFC Bank. Here is the conversatio


*Family Member*: “I am calling to tell you that she died in Jan ’16.”
*HDFC Bank*: “The account was never closed. So the late fees & charges still apply.”
*Family Member*:😳 “Maybe, you should turn it over to yr collections dept.”
*HDFC Bank*: “Since it is two months overdue, it already has been.”
*Family Member*: “So, what will they do when they find out she is no more?”
*HDFC Bank*: “Either report her account to frauds division or report her to the credit bureau

​ ​

or maybe both!”
*Family Member*: 😷 “Do you think God will be mad at her?”
*HDFC Bank*: 😳 “Excuse me?”
*Family Member*: 😡 ‘Did you just get what I was telling you – the part about her being dead?”
*HDFC Bank*: 😒“Sir, you’ll have to speak to my supervisor.”
Supervisor gets on the phone:
*Family Member*: “I’m calling to inform you that she died in Jan ’16 with a Rs.0 balance on her credit card.”
*HDFC Bank*: “The account was never closed and late fees and charges still apply.”
*Family Member*: “You mean you want to collect from her estate?”
*HDFC Bank*: (Stammer) “Are you her lawyer?”
*Family Member*: “No, I’m her grand nephew.”
*HDFC Bank*: “Could you fax us a certificate of death?”
*Family Member*: “Sure.” (Fax number was given )
After they got the fax :
*HDFC Bank*: “Our system isn’t setup for *death*. I don’t know what more I can do to help.”
*Family Member*: “Well, if you figure it out, great! If not, you could just keep billing her. She won’t care.”
*HDFC Bank*: “Well, the late fees and charges will still apply.”
(What is wrong with these people?!?)
*Family Member*: “Would you like her new billing address?”
*HDFC Bank*: “That might help…”
*Family Member*: “Odessa Memorial Cemetery, Grave no 1169, Avinashi, Coimbatore.”
*HDFC Bank*: “Sir, that’s a cemetery!”
*Family Member*: “And what do you do with dead people on your planet???”

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It’s the season. The leaves have started falling, and the trees along the streets have started wearing their amazing cloaks of red, orange, yellow and purple. Everywhere I look these same colored leaves are falling, hurtling in the air, anxious to lie down on the still green grass. Fire in the hearth goes up, and you start thinking of roasting and grilling some kababs on the grill inside.

And with this falling of the season comes another season. The season of turkey eating. Now, a lot of people in this country absolutely love the fowl. Turkey is the mantra they live by. I couldn’t be too bothered with its taste or the texture. Mother used to cook it at home with spices and make it like qorma. The pieces were okay but nothing that I craved. But that was more than half a century ago, when my palate was not as “sophisticated”, and when I was told to eat something, I had to eat it regardless of whether I liked it or not. It is different here.

It is a tradition to make turkey. It is the centerpiece of all tables. Baked bird, sitting high on top of stuffing, and smothered with potatoes and carrots and what have you. The first year I was in this country, we were invited to a Thanksgiving feast by some friends. They talked about the ‘bird’ endlessly. I would look at them with surprise, my eyes wide with anticipation of manna and salwa! I started dreaming about the bird. Came Thursday, and we drove thirty miles in the country to our hosts and meet their entire family and of course the ‘bird’!

I have to tell you though, the table looked amazing. The turkey was the center of attention, baked red and golden, its breast up, the wings folded over, and then I saw its legs… the drumsticks as they are called. Plump and golden and between these drumsticks was this cascade of stuffing made with bread crumbs and celery and doused with broth. “Oh yuck!” I thought to myself! I am supposed to eat that blob?

The carving of the turkey brought out all sorts of oohs and aahs from the rest of the people and I just kept getting goose bumps all over my skin. I filled my plate with a thin slice of the bird, some mashed potatoes, green beans and a slice of bread. Couldn’t bear to eat the stuffing that was coming out of the turkey’s lower part! One mouthful of the bird meat, made me almost choke! God Almighty, what is this? The meat was tasteless, no spices, nothing… everyone around me was just over the moon with praises for the moistness of the bird, and the delicious tenderness. They kept asking me, “don’t you just love this bird?” I would look at them and say, “This is my first time with it!” That was the wrong thing to say. They brought more meat and offered it to me.

Anyhow, the dinner was suffered through by me, and then of course the desserts were served. I did more than justice to that.

To this day, fifty plus years later, I still cannot tolerate the turkey at Thanksgiving. However, yes, however, I have found the answer to my prayers. A decade or more ago, in one of the Neiman Marcus catalogues, which had the epicurean section of meats and desserts I found a turkey that was hickory smoked and honey cured. Voila! I had hit jackpot! I ordered it. It was a great hit in my household, and for the last umpteen years that turkey has sat at one of the corners of my Thanksgiving table! The centerpiece of course is Biryani and Murgh Musallam, Shami and shikampur, baghare Baigan and dahi ki chutney. Neiman Marcus doesn’t offer that particular turkey any more, but thanks to Google, I have found other places that do.

So in this season of thanksgiving, I am grateful that I have the turkey for the guests who love it, and my own kind of food that I love. The table with all the delicacies stretches out in the dining room. I think it is okay to have the bird once a year, don’t you think?

Seriously though, when you think of Thanksgiving, we have to think of the native Indians who had to give up so much and who were so hospitable to the white man and yet got the short end of the stick.

And we give thanks!! Ironic, no??
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The Quincy Murder Case.

I had talked early this year, a little about an attorney of Quincy who had murdered his wife several years ago. The incompetent investigation had closed the files then. However, a young detective in the last three years had dug the case out and it was all over the local media. Curtis was arrested and spent nearly three years in jail.

 This case will be on Dateline tomorrow, Friday the 6th of October on NBC. If you have time, please watch it, it shows how ineffective our justice system sometimes is.
Curtis grew up with my children, went to school with my daughter, married his school sweet heart. I know the wife’s family personally. He was an All American Athlete for the University of Illinois in Champaine_Urbana.
Anyway, please view this if you have time.
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