The Cashmere Scarf

by Ibraheem Hamdi

The Cashmere Scarf was one of the posts published in an Egyptian online blog that belongs to Ibraheem. Amongst many others, it is his personal favorite.

The other works are personal accounts and reflections on love, marriage, writing, literature, fiction and religion.

Ibraheem originally works in the software industry but is very passionate about writing and prose, and has been in the habit of blogging for more than six years.

After struggling for a while with publishers, he finally decided to self publish his work in an electronic free edition.

Ibraheem is still dreaming about publishing his own set of novels in the very soon future.

160 pages, Kindle Edition

First published April 28, 2013

About the author

Ibraheem is an Egyptian writer who's been in the habit of blogging for more than six years.

Living in Cairo, Egypt, he works in the computer software industry. He however still dreams about being a full time novelist one day in the soon future.

Reviews

[Yomna · Rating 5 out of 5]

A brilliant book. I enjoyed reading every bit of it. Ibraheem has this beautiful way of putting words together. It sometimes feels like magic. The book is a collection of his blog posts, and is very rich in thought-provoactive ideas, and sincere feelings.

"I’m addicted to storytelling because of my stories, not because of my telling. The narratives that fly out of someone’s smile or someone’s tears always strive to be told. It’s like a flower that stretches its petals for the world to see."

I believe we all have stories, but not all of us have the ability to put these stories into beautiful words, like Ibraheem does.

Here are just some of my favorite quotes from the book:

"You know how sometimes your attempts fail more than they don’t? When you feel that you’ve missed so much; and that your worth is such an insignificance compared to those who you admire? And then, after a while, God shows you that what you once thought a disappointment in yourself is in fact a rescue from empty vanity; that life has to it in you what’s not showed on others."

"One thing I’m learning the hard way these days is that no matter how you try, you will never be able to harness the feelings of those around you. And no matter how much you might influence them, you never are sure your spills will last the night. And no matter how many times your kindnesses will mislead you into very dark dungeons, you’ll never give them up."

"If you are afraid in the deep dark of you, in the cold quilt of you, or in the bleak plain day of you, run to Surat Al-Qasas, and imbibe its meanings, its stories and its lessons. Never let go of it, heart it in, and sing it out. Read its Tafsir, and then read its Tafsir in other books. Listen to it recited, and then listen to it again, and again, until it's etched in your chest, until it's carved in your soul. Cry it away, smile it back, and sigh it over, ponder it, and wonder at the world, and just be…
You will never regret doing this. Ever."

“I believe that speaking to God makes one glow."

"Don’t you just love Islamic teachings in this? Don’t you just love how universal they are?
Maybe it will work. Maybe it won’t.
Maybe I’ll live. Maybe I’ll die.
Maybe I should just love how God takes care of it all."

"Sometimes, life brings out the worst in people, but if you watch close enough, the worst in
people is beautiful. You know why? Because it’s the end of it. Once the worst is out, what’s left is
their pure hearts and their yearning to be in your embrace."

"It’s always an enjoyable thought when it visits me, to buy a gift for someone you haven’t met yet, which
speaks richly of how in love you are with the idea of them, and how much it means to you. Some
would think it’s sad, but I would like to corner it into a special emotion; a surreal mix of waiting and
readiness to love with all your senses."

I haven't enjoyed reading a book in a while as much as I enjoyed The Cashmere Scarf. I highly recommend it, and the best part is that the pdf is available here on Goodreads :)

[VivaPalestina · Rating 4 out of 5]

And there’s no harder struggle in my life than the single conquest towards forgiving myself or forgetting my past.

I didn’t know how to start reviewing the book. I tried not to, actually, I didn’t want to, but my thoughts wouldn’t be stifled.

I wish I had no words. I wonder what it would have been had I not been acquainted with writing. Maybe then I’d have put things into their natural place and size. Maybe then I’d not have to contemplate trouble into disaster and meditate small into big. This is what writing does to you; it makes you put everything under a microscope of metaphors and similes, surrounded by memories and reminiscences. It flies you up high and leaves you without gravity, without reference, and absolutely without destination.

It’s harder to read and review something for a person you know, much harder than for another writer. At times I wonder what gives me the right to critique another’s writings. The answer is – being a reader. Being a reader is a wonderful occupation, you don’t need to worry about your own inept ability to string words together, you don’t compare the writer’s talent to your nonexistent ones, no, you compare it to the pleasure gained from their trailing words – and who has higher expectations than an ardent bookworm?

What’s with writers and having to put in words that which never puts them to sleep?

I’m not sure exactly how, but somehow, I was introduced to the blogging sphere, and Ibraheem was one of the earliest blogs I read for. I remember coming across the Trip to India files and goosebumps erupting on my arms. I had fallen into it by accident, but I found I couldn’t leave the site. I wanted to keep reading the published thoughts cover to cover.

Her hair is dishevelled. Her smile is thriving under a knitted forehead – knitted by strings attached to a heavy backpack at times, or to a young daughter who only talks in screams. Her outfit is wrinkled and just out of place. She is herself.

I had never come across something like this before. Some excerpts made me sit at the edge of the chair for over a month, I was so paranoid that there were a hundred other secret observers, witnessing every frown, every time my face crumpled, every time it was thrown back in laughter, every time tiredness settled and cloaked me. It made me jumpy, I kept looking over my shoulder, worrying incessantly.

After that, the birth of our bloggers consortium came about, where with the many posts for the HBBC, as well as the individual ones, I formed my own idea about him. Far be it for me to say that I liked every post of his, no I didn’t. Some were worded too painstakingly, too much thought and effort had gone into them, others were written in the aim to please, and it took away from the assuredness of writing for pleasures sake.

Others however played to the strings of the reader’s hearts; you could feel yourself crescendo with the words, spent as the waves crashed. We share a similarity, (by-stepping my vanity) in observing people. We take a great delight in silently watching and reaching judgements, with the certainty of being correct most of the time.

He flirted with the idea of closing his blog a number of times, only to carry out the threat, not heeding his readers’ pleas. Finding the blog published was actually a pleasant surprise after thinking it was barred off forever.

Reading The Cashmere Scarf – or in my instance, re-reading the blog posts brought about an assortment of incidents, time milestones measuring the periods, the tweets at that time, behaviour observed previously and judgements settled upon. How ironic did it feel that as I was reading his words on observations, I believed firmly in my observations of him? That every blog post he made at that time, with every statement he released and every act, would all contribute to his readers’ silent observation, every analysis he made whilst being analysed too. More oft than not, the posts made it through the bloggers grapevine. In fact, identifying so strongly with the words is perhaps the reason I critiqued it so harshly.

Trouble starts when it’s the other way around, when you are the one who needs help. You suddenly feel that you don’t deserve it!

Marriage plays a central theme in the writings, which at first sight might seem strange but I’ve come to think otherwise. I read for a few other Egyptian male bloggers – and the theme surprisingly, is just as recurrent in their minds as a women’s’. Surprised? Another thing the Egyptian male bloggers shared with Ibraheem was the excessive use of exclamation marks. This is probably a cultural difference, but the English audience tends to be wary of too much obvious passion.

Some would think that nesting is associated to women, but they’d be wrong. Men need homes as much as women do; for them it’s comfort and for women it’s safety. It’s like two faces of the same coin, really.

My sentiments exactly.

We’re tricked into thinking that beautiful pauses in life should stretch. It’s not their purpose to do that. Instead they only exist to make us happy every once in a while. We shouldn’t expect more than that of them.

Vivid imagery into the life of a typical Egyptian family – slightly reminiscent of Anne Frank’s diary, as Ibraheem documents his musings and thoughts in his blog. When reading The Cashmere Scarf, you need to remember that despite it reading like a book, they are actually a collection of thoughts bundled together as time passed.

To me, the articles fell in three main categories. The first segment captures the grit of everyday life, family tensions, drama, sibling affection and weight of responsibilities. The death of his mother colours his words and keeps the strong flavour of familial life preserved.

A deadlock takes place when two events, mutually dependent, and in a rare scenario, wait for each other. They create a cycle that stops moving, because both can’t take the next step without the other taking theirs.

The next section is where Ibraheem plays with his imagination bringing it to life. A lot of raw emotion is dealt with in those extracts, skilfully moving from one sensation to another. Whether it’s adeptly introducing sparks of romance, or moving between despair and comfort, two sides of one coin, Ibraheem here excelled, and I know it was not just my opinion.

I count your hugs. I don’t know the figure, I just know that I count, and that each time I’m in your arms, I forget where I stopped, so I start all over again.

At the strangest of times, you’d find tears clustered in your eyes, with a foolish shake of your head you’d try to shake them off. Sometimes a single crystal would find the trail down onto your screen as the perfect words slotted themselves into their place. It’s of no importance of what the author imagined when he penned these words and joined them seamlessly, for once they were committed down on paper (or blog), they fell into the ownership of the reader. The true joy lied in the ease of moulding, where the ambiguity leaves room for you to traverse your own rainbow of sentiments using borrowed words.

I have been wronged this year, profoundly. Myself is the main villain in the plot. I should try and find more room within myself for myself.

The final segment interestingly, is the attempt at spirituality. I hope the author here forgives my use of the word attempt. I use the word loosely, because of course; no one could ever be a judge of a person’s reflections. The effort of wanting to become closer to God is clearly identified in the writings, and religious overture obvious, however, to me – it was still a raw effort. It’s not often one comes across a writer with significant skill, but even that skill needs to be toned. I felt the writer try too hard, wanting to hone his skills and direct them to a certain direction, but not playing to his strengths. There is a quality to his words which makes a reader pause, with enough practise, I believe he could incorporate the strength of the emotions into spiritual words. Whilst distancing his writings from emotions and love, he neglects a vital brilliance in his writings, whereas with the combination of spirituality and love - of God - a dynamic effect could be produced. Think Rumi style.

If you haven’t downloaded the ebook from Goodreads, I really do suggest you do so. Don’t think so hard when reading them, they are just a collection of thoughts, but in them, you can see the makings of a great novelist.

I hope it comes out soon.

Note: The words in italics belong to Ibraheem Hamdi, but they were my absolute favourite.