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Farobag Homi Cooper

Henry Purcell was born on September 10, 1659 to a musical family in Westminster, London. Purcell was England’s greatest composer of the Restoration period and one of the most important English composers before the 20th century. His music combines English contrapuntal tradition, Italian melody, French dance rhythms, and a remarkable feeling for harmony and word setting. He was recognized as a prodigy from a young age, singing in the Chapel Royal's choir and composing as a child, as evidenced by a published three-part song surviving from when he was only 8 years old. Purcell had an unusually sophisticated harmonic language for his time. He could move between major and minor, dissonance and resolution, and chromatic harmony with extraordinary freedom. His word painting was also exceptional. Dido’s lament, “When I am laid in earth,” is particularly famous for its descending chromatic bass and extraordinary emotional intensity. “As poetry is the harmony of words, so music is that of notes; and as poetry is a rise above prose and oratory, so is music the exaltation of poetry.” “Tis women who make us love; 'tis love that makes us sad; 'tis sadness makes us drink; 'tis drink that makes us mad.”

justme

At sixteen years old, Paul Anka was hopelessly in love with a girl who barely knew he existed. Her name was Diana Ayoub. She was eighteen. Poised. Beautiful. And completely unaware that a shy teenager in Ottawa had been watching her from a distance. Paul was not confident around girls. He was small for his age. Awkward. Quiet. But there was one place where he knew exactly what to say. At the piano. So in early 1957, he did what young songwriters have always done with feelings they cannot speak aloud. He turned them into music. Paul wrote a song for Diana. A plea from a boy who wanted to be noticed by someone who had no idea how deeply he felt. Then he decided to do something extraordinary with it. He borrowed one hundred dollars from his uncle. Skipped school. Packed a suitcase with demo tapes. And flew alone to New York City. He was sixteen years old. The music business was not exactly waiting for teenage songwriters from Canada. Professional writers dominated the industry. Experienced producers controlled the doors. A nervous kid with a homemade love song was easy to dismiss. Then Paul reached ABC-Paramount Records. Producer Don Costa agreed to hear him. The recording was simple. A young voice. A melody. A feeling that sounded real because it was. Costa heard something others had missed. Not polish. Truth. The label released “Diana” in July 1957. Then everything changed. Radio stations began receiving requests. The song climbed charts. North America. Europe. Beyond. Millions of people heard the words Paul had written for one girl in Ottawa. The teenager who had struggled to get anyone’s attention suddenly had the attention of the world. “Diana” sold more than a million copies and transformed Paul Anka into an international star before he had even finished high school. And Diana Ayoub? She never became his girlfri

The Last Call

Sarah Khalifa: From Egyptian TV Star to Death Sentence For years, Sarah Khalifa was known in Egypt as a television presenter, entertainment producer, businesswoman and social-media personality. Today, she is at the center of a sensational drug case. Khalifa began working in television while young and later presented entertainment programming, including a show commonly translated as “Difficult Mission.” Her career expanded into advertising, beauty and event production. She operated a cosmetic clinic, organized concerts and built a large social-media following. Her glamorous public image changed dramatically in April 2025, when Egyptian authorities arrested her during an investigation into an alleged organized drug network. Prosecutors accused the organization of obtaining chemicals from abroad and using them in Egypt to manufacture synthetic narcotics, particularly synthetic cannabinoids. Authorities reported recovering hundreds of kilograms of drugs and chemical materials. Prosecutors alleged Khalifa helped finance and participate in the organization. Egyptian media subsequently called her “The Beautiful Boss.” There is no clear evidence this was an underworld alias she actually used. Khalifa strongly denied involvement. She argued that her television, beauty and entertainment businesses provided legitimate income and reportedly told investigators she had never smoked a cigarette. The case involved 28 defendants. On September 5, 2026, the Cairo Criminal Court sentenced Khalifa and 11 others to death by hanging. Nine received life sentences and seven were acquitted. It was an extraordinary turn for a woman once known for television, celebrities and entertainment. But her legal battle isn’t necessarily finished. Khalifa maintains her innocence, and the judgment remains subject to Egypt’s appeals process. From television personality to convicted defendant facing the ultimate punishment, her story has captured attention far beyond Egypt. #SarahKhalifa

Farobag Homi Cooper

September 8 marks the 185th birth anniversary of Antonin Dvořák who was born in Bohemia. A nationalist at heart, he embraced Czech folk idioms that were infused within a late romantic harmonic vocabulary. Yet, during a three-year hiatus in the US, he paved a way for succeeding American composers by introducing native and African American idioms in his compositions and some of his most profound works such as his Symphony "From the New World" and his Cello Concerto were conceived in America. An accomplished violist, he possessed a phenomenal gift for melodic motives which are immediately communicative through his rhythmic vitality. This is one reason his music can sound simultaneously spontaneous and meticulously constructed. This characteristic places him in an interesting lineage with Schubert, Brahms, and later Bartók, but Dvořák’s particular combination of rhythmic sophistication and natural dance impulse is truly unique and inimitable.

justme

Ernest Hemingway rarely admitted another writer was better than him. But in a private letter to his editor, he confessed something close to it. He said reading her book made him ashamed of himself as a writer, that he felt like nothing more than a carpenter with words next to her. Then, in the very same letter, he called her a high-grade bitch. Both things were true to him at once. Her book went out of print anyway, and the world forgot about her for forty years. Her name was Beryl Markham. She was born in Leicestershire, England, in 1902, and moved to British East Africa, modern-day Kenya, at the age of four. Her mother hated the isolation and went home to England. Beryl stayed. She did not grow up like a colonial child was supposed to. She ran with the Nandi people. She learned to hunt with a spear. She spoke Swahili, Nandi, and Maasai before she was a teenager. At eighteen, she became the first licensed female racehorse trainer in Kenya. It was not seen as impressive. It was seen as scandalous. In her late twenties, she learned to fly. She became a bush pilot in an era when a single engine failure over the African interior usually meant you did not come home. There was no GPS, no radar, no rescue infrastructure for hundreds of miles in any direction. She flew mail to remote outposts. She tracked elephants from the air for safari hunters. She searched wreckage-strewn terrain for downed pilots that others had already given up on. By the time she decided to attempt what came next, she had logged more than two thousand flying hours. In 1936, at thirty-three years old, she decided to fly across the Atlantic. Not the easy direction. The hard one. Charles Lindbergh had flown with the wind, from New York to Paris. Amelia Earhart had flown with the wind too, from Newfoundland to Ireland. No one, man or woman, had ever flown non-stop

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When Elisabeth Taylor saw Maria, she was just nine months old. She was suffering from severe malnutrition, covered with painful abscesses, and born with a deformed hip that threatened to leave her unable to walk for the rest of her life. It was during the filming of Cleopatra in Germany that Elizabeth found this delicate child with the help of actress Maria Schell. The baby was lying quietly inside a simple laundry basket supported by two old pillows. She did not cry, nor did she laugh. She simply stared at the room with dark, watchful eyes. Elizabeth immediately took the child into her arms, bathing her, holding her, and caring for her continuously over the next three days. Slowly, the quiet infant began to open up, giggling and making sounds whenever she wanted her bottle. German adoption officials wanted Elizabeth to choose a baby without health issues, but Elizabeth refused to give up on her. "The German officials wanted me to have a perfect baby, so I had to fight like a tiger to get her. To me she was perfect." When Elizabeth married Richard Burton, Burton officially adopted Maria as well and gave her his name. The process of healing was long and painful. Elizabeth took young Maria to doctors across Germany, Italy, and France. For nearly two years, the young girl was spread-eagled in a full-body cast while doctors tried to determine if she would ever walk. Eventually, a skilled doctor in Oxford, England, advised an operation to insert a metal plate into her hip. The surgery was a complete success, allowing Maria to walk, run, and thrive alongside her family. Elizabeth fondly remembered the moment Maria spoke her first word, saying, "Her first word was 'Mama.' I guess that's universal, but when it happens, you just die." Richard Burton also shared a remarkably close bond with Maria.