Celebrating Life ..

PS: Do not read if you hate Narcissism 

It is time to reflect back on my life today, as I celebrate my birthday. Has life been worth living? Yes off course! Unlike a few years ago, today I take pride in who I am and what I have done with myself. There are no more regrets in my life regarding where I went wrong. Today, I happily wish myself “Happy Birthday” and add “May you have many more” because there is so much in life to look forward to.

 ‘Be a woman of substance. Be a real woman. It is difficult to break down a real woman because she will learn from her mistakes, gather her strength from her struggle and overcome the obstacles courageously.’ – Unknown.

So true are those words when I connect them to myself, because, today I stand here on my feet, strong, unbroken, wise with the lessons life has taught me and gathering strength from my experience withcancer, bringing up special needs child and social, communal restrictions.

If you ask me to make a list women of who have stood against all odds to emerge triumphant from group of the women I know; the list would grow inexhaustibly like Hanuman's tail.  My life has been touched by many such ladies who have made a big difference to the course of my life.

At the same time I feel compelled to pat my own back, because I am one of those women who have refused to be tied down by any kind of bondage.

I have overcome the hurdles thrown at me like caste, culture, marriage, gender discrimination, disability, III stage infiltrating breast cancer, special needs child and many more to stand strong and confident today, ready to fly. I have not been the person who has aspired to touch the sky but always felt inspired to go beyond the limits of the sky.

Many eyebrows would be raised as they would consider it sheer narcissism by a simple woman who considers herself an achiever in the world of women who have made a place for themselves in the field of science, technology, arts and politics. What do I do? I blog, earn some income through freelance writing in addition to doing online counseling and mentoring students at Banjara Academy. Not many people consider me to be an ambitious achiever. But for me, this means a lot, as I know how tough it has been for 'me' to be where I am today.

 Even when people say they admire me or respect me, I notice an odd trend in them and feel it is all for the wrong reason. Most of them respect me and applaud me for surviving cancer, when they should be applauding my doctor for having done a great job on me. Did I have a choice of not fighting bravely against cancer? If I did not fight against the demon than I would have died at a young age of 29 leaving behind two small kids aged 1 and 5 years, motherless. Besides, I did not fight for someone else. I fought cancer and survived because I was greedy for life, I wanted to be with my kids, I wanted to live and achieve something before calling it an end. I wanted to reach for the skies before being shut in a grave forever. There, I was totally selfish and greedy, but people respect and applaud me for being a survivor for 17 years now, even as they sideline my real achievements.

Some say it is the attitude with which I have fought cancer that is inspirational to them. I was talking to a friend and mentioned to her how people consider my surviving cancer or bringing up a special needs daughter to be inspirational for them. What have ‘I’ actually done? Nothing much! I had to fight cancer and survive and I did. I could not give up on my daughter, so I love and care for her like any mother would. What is inspirational about me?

What my friend said when she answered my question rang a bell in my mind. She said what happened to me was just life and how I handled it, or precisely how I reacted to it was inspirational. It was not letting things pull me down, instead use it as a spring board to soar higher than I would have in normal situations.

Fighting cancer was easier when I was dealing with it myself, but it was tough losing my Mom, Sister and friends to the same disease that I survived. Dealing with the guilt of surviving something others have lost their lives to, is another hurdle I have jumped over. 

I was born a second girl child with a prominent club foot. It was tough walking with my right foot fully twisted and looking upwards. But it could never hold me from competing in sports or running long distances. I had never been able to consider myself a handicapped person, at least not until I tried to apply for drivers license. This is when my disability finally caught up with me at the age of 47 years, where I was asked to get certificate from Doctor ensuring that I have enough strength in

my leg to hit roads on a two wheeler. I was kind of surprised when I heard it, as I have almost totally forgotten that I have a disability. LOL.The dialogue between me and lady inspector went something like this:

Inspector : Do you have any problem in your leg?

Me: No. I just have a club foot.

Inspector: You mean you have disability?

Me: What? Is club foot a disability? It has not behaved like one so far.

Inspector: You mean, it does not bother you?

Me: No way. I have even carried my daughter until she was ten years old.

Inspector: Unfortunately, here I have to follow a protocol. You will have to undergo certain procedure before I can give you permission for the license. 

Being torn between what I want and
my loved ones want from me is tough

Though I was living in a village until a few months ago, where you cannot tell one woman from other when they belong to my community, I have made a mark for myself. Yes, I did walk around there totally covered with my black robe, where only my eyes were visible. I was commonly addressed as ‘Bibi’ when I visited offices, hospitals or any public place. The darkness is strong enough to overwhelm people and swallow them whole like a python.  I haven’t allowed the shadow of my cloak to overshadow me, I have found light and shone my colors through it. It may have swallowed many people like me, but I have escaped it clutches and I have discovered the real me. It is hard, it is dangerous and it takes a lot to hurt your own people, especially when you love them. I have felt torn between what I want to be and want my loved ones want me to be, not just once but many times. Finally, I am listening more to what I want to be rather than being what others expect me to be.

 It is tough to question what everyone around you believes in. I do not like be censored or dictated. I had the courage to stand up and say what I really am. Not until you are there will you know how it feels to be an ugly duckling among the chickens. 

After passing the milestone of 40 years, I have taken life with great enthusiasm. Instead of regretting about giving up my studies, I have completed my graduation and bravely shifted to a city like Bangalore. From a small depleted house, sitting in my small room, where my tall brother cannot stretch himself, I have reached out to the world and stretched myself far enough, nearly touching the skies. I have fallen down only to get up with more vehemence. 

When everything was fading away in my life, I picked up the leftovers and started to prepare a new dish to relish. I reached up and caught the rainbow of my dream – pursuing my education again at the age of 43, even with big obstacles strewn on my path, I am living my dream. At the moment I am further pursuing my ambition of completing my P.G. which is running smoothly so far. I have completed my first year of M.S. in counseling and psychotherapy and I am quite excited about the second year right now. I feel so relieved and happy to know that I am pursuing my dream. It is not easy at my age to sit down like a school kid, prepare notes and study for the exams. What with children, house work and my health issues distracting me. But I did. I studied hard enough to score first class passing marks in my graduation, and, the jewel in the crown was my scoring 92% marks in Psychology. It is something when you do that with your chemo brain. My brain is not what it used to be in school days, where I could memorize pages within hours.

I have never allowed anyone to treat mydaughter differently or without respect. I have been strong and fought to get her the love and respect she deserves. No one dares to fool around or mess with her. Bringing out this kind of behavior from people who were not used to it is something I have achieved.

 I have learned everything about internet and computers, surrounded by the walls of my room. All the help I got, was an instruction how to switch on a computer. Today, I am kind of computer repair person. I can almost fix my computer all by myself, install windows, create pages on web and win blogging contests.

My blog is something I feel proud about. It is not easy to share your problems, miseries with the world. Some say, pouring my heart out on the blog can take away my pain. Only those who haven’t lost a breast, been worried about the future of their child, lost dear ones to cancer or suffered as me can say that. Easing pain is not that easy. Even if I write thousand of blogs and millions will read it, the problems and pain will stay. For me blogging is leaving behind a part of me for everyone to see, even when I am no longer here. When I was supposed to be quite and walk in shadows, I dared to go ahead and share a part of me with the whole world. I received a lot of flak for posting my personal details, pictures and other information on my blog, but I decided to live my life my own way. It is not tough when you are independent financially and healthy person. For me, being a rebel meant a great risk. I did not have a job that could support me, neither was I highly educated. I lived in  fear. The recurrence of cancer which looms on my head all the time. These restrictions were pulling me strongly towards the gutter where I could lie, rot and be lost without trace after a few years which I did not want to happen. That is when I decided to jump and check the depth of the well. I survived and found a new way of living. Today, I am free from the chains that I believed to have bound me. I have learned to appreciate my achievements and efforts. This is something I would pat my back for if I could just reach it….

When I win, or achieve something- it could be a small victory for me, but a great victory for those women who are lost in the shadows. My problems, my disabilities do hold me back; distract me when I sit down to write a blog, do my work or even when I am on the road, but I fight back and bring myself out of the cave.
There was a time when I was quite angry and hated myself, but now times have changed. I love, respect and appreciate myself, because I know for sure unless I do that, how will others love, respect or appreciate me?

I am a person who doesn't want to touch the sky but want to go beyond it. I want my soar to be limitless. 

Celebrating memories........

Those were the days when we did not know which community we belonged to. Not that I know much of it now either ;). Especially we lost our identities at the end of every year…….. during Ramzan we were muslims, hindus on deewali and Christians on Christmas. Festivals meant fun to us and we never ceased to enjoy the occasion. My dad and mom were liberal enough to allow us all to have fun. October/November were months of happiness for us. It meant that we were done with our mid-term exams and holidays were beckoning us with smile. The summer vacations were boring as it would be too hot to play out and the holidays were long enough to make me miss my school. Unlike them, Mid-term holidays were cool, appropriate in their length and had lots of celebrations with not a dull moment.

The main celebration being my own birthday which never made anyone happy (the upset would be about my persisting club foot which would stare at my family year after year which they expected to correct itself by a miracle) other than me, Dassera and Deepavali. We lived in a Hindu dominated neighborhood, hence more than Ramzan and Bakrid we enjoyed the Hindu festivals, especially my sister who would go on a spending frenzy for the festivals. She would deck herself in new dresses, flowers and bangles and would visit her friends tagging me along with her. She loved to watch the Keelu Kudure dance. So every time I was pulled out of my cozy corner to the crowded square to watch the same old keelu kudure and Palakki along with the Theru (Rath). It did not matter whether she had fever, cold, cough or bad marks on her report card. Deepavali was a time to enjoy crackers.

My dad purchased raw materials for the Joy Ice-creams factory in Whitefield. Deepavali was a time when all the people he purchased goodies from would present him with a box of sweets ( actual sweets people) and sometimes crackers. The factory management also gave out some gifts and a box of crackers. As we were always surprised by not knowing what we would get, we would spend our days in excitement and anxiety.

My sister did not like noisy crackers. Phooljadi, flower pots, Krishna chakra and snakes were her favourites. She could not muster up enough courage to blow up even one rocket ever. I was the brave one who could lit big crackers and throw them off (OK I know it was dangerous but back then I was kind of a stupid kid). Between ourselves we divided the crackers with lots of fighting. My sister would take more of flower pots and sursurbatti (phooljadi) and put in my share more of noisy crackers. It was fair enough because I enjoyed them both but then, as I knew that she would never burst the noisy ones I would demand she divide them equally so that I would have 70% of the crackers to burst. LOL. Even after the big box of crackers which was more than most of our Hindu neighbours would burst anyone would think we would be happy and content. I was. I was never much of a cracker buster and after a few years started giving most of the crackers, even from my share to my siblings. I was content in watching people have fun. My sister though was never content with the crackers. She would try to cajole me into spending some amount of my savings on crackers. I would always refuse. Finally she would spend her own money and buy crackers. I would enjoy them when she lit them which would irk her. But no one can stop spectators from watching pataake on deewali. Lol.

Even to this day I do not spend on buying crackers but enjoy watching others burn their money or my son at times burn my money. He is a lot like my sister and has a great fascination for fire crackers.

I miss my family a lot on deewali because the festival has lost its luster for me now. Gone are the days when people would openly enjoy crackers, no matter what religion they belonged to. My dad was lover of loud crackers. I haven’t seen a homemade obattu, kadubu or kajjaya for years. No more there are different kinds of sweets, visits, songs, programs for Dassera and Deewali.

I can still picture my little brother running behind dogs and cats scaring them with his small Pataki gun. He would feel sorry for them if they jumped up and would feed them something as compensation. I know he would do the same even now though he is a grown up man. I at times recall event like my little sister jumping at the sound of her own doings of pulling the trigger and smile to myself.

I still can see one of the events like a movie being played.

It was drizzling a bit, me and my sister were chatting out feeling the cool air on our faces. I heard loud Bang! Bang! Bangs! And then saw my little sister running behind a scared dog with her pataaki gun. We were not even ready to feel sorry for the dog being the victim of my little sister’s prank when we heard shrilly shrieks followed by my sister who was creating them being followed by the dog who had mustered courage to turn around and chase her. It was very funny contrasting event.

Things have changed now. I have shifted to Byndoor. Here we live in a Muslim neighbourhood. We miss the Sindhi, Punjabi, Malayalees, Maamis bhabis along with our local kannadiga friends. Life is monotonous and dull.With only muslim neighbours, the brightness of deepawali, color of holi etc is lost.

People are more communally oriented over here and I have very tough time adjusting to this lifestyle. Here people are ‘they’ and ‘us’ which did not exist in my life earlier. Sigh! Hope things would change for better sometime soon and I would have the celebrations back in my life.. though it is tough to imagine celebrations like that without my Mom, sister and dad. The memories they have left behind is the best gift for the Deewali for me now….

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Do not Panic .. Lessons not learned from books.

We All Panicked and It Was Craziness Ruling

Continued

Do Not Panic

Finally at 2 p.m. we decided to get back home. We three started our walk back. I was very curious to look around and fell behind my sister and Sakku. Sakku was leading the way with my sister following and me following my sister. Finally we came to railway track and Sakku crossed it first then my sister got on the track. Now something terrible happened. It was time for the Brindavan Express to approach and it blared its horn. My sister suddenly froze on the track. Me and Sakku kept calling her name but she stood there staring in the direction of the train which was visible now. The trembling tracks and the blaring horn was scary as my sister was not able to move… suddenly I decided to intervene and pull her and held her hand .. unfortunately at the same time Sakku decided to do the same. We kept tugging my sister in the opposite direction for what looked like hours as the train fast approached us… I shouted at Sakku to let go, at the same time she shouted at me to let go.. Finally I do not know after how long that I decided to let go and my sister was pulled to the other side by Sakku. The force made all three of us fall on the opposite sides of the railway tracks and I felt the train engine brush past my dress or it could be fear induced imagination. We just stayed on our side of the tracks staring at it without making any effort to move or talk. Finally my sister shouted “were you two trying to kill me?”.

“ You were trying to kill yourself and we were trying to save you” I said, being angry that I was not appreciated for either trying to intervene and pull her nor for letting go when it was getting dangerous holding on. Sakku, the poor thing was in such a shock that she did not say anything but started crying so our attention was diverted to her. She was very sorry that she was very nearly responsible for getting her friend killed and she thought it was her fault inviting us to the fields.

I knew for sure that I would not take blame on myself like she did even if the fault was visible and Sakku shocked me with her way of thoughts. Anyway we consoled her. In the panic the poor Jirjeembe ( Pronounce-Jeer Jim Bay) had found its freedom and was nowhere to be seen. The match box lay empty there and I was very happy. NO! I did not let it free and I am sticking to what I said that day.

Finally it was decided that we should never let our parents know about the incident. A promise was made and kept forever until my sister who could never keep secrets told my mom about it few days later sending her into a panic frenzy. It was good she just told that she got scared on the railway tracks and could not cross over for sometime without mentioning the incident of me and Sakku pulling her from either side. My mom’s screams and wailing must have shut her up.

The incident would play up in my dreams where it would end in tragedy and that started disturbing me a lot. Whenever I heard the train pass by (we lived near to the railway tracks) I could feel it brush against my skirt etc. So I made effort to take the incident out of my mind and also promised never to give in to thoughtless panic ever in my life. With lot of effort finally I overcame the fear and the dreams stopped some time later. But since then I have not panicked much over any situation. The first thing I tell myself as my pulse picks up .. ‘stay calm’ and repeat it often. I learnt a big lesson that day that our life depended on the way we react to a situation and if not for proper thinking I could have lost my sister or may be   all three of us would be dead. The price of panic was just too big to ignore it.

Paddy fields 

(Note from a grown up Farida: Even to this day .. when my sister is no more, I have never overcome the fear the incident induced in me and I have never allowed panic to take over my senses ever after that. I have remained calm; when I saw a snake inside the house, got my hand stuck in car door, saw my younger sister catch fire, when my daughter slipped and fell down etc. No panic for me. I miss the panic feeling though. At times it is nice to squeal, ohhh ahhh and get scared and do weird things. I do that with lot of effort when it will be time for my husband to come back from gulf.. though my kids know I am acting it out they enjoy to see their Maa in a panic mode. )

Adventure in the paddy and ragi fields...

Paddy Fields

As the sports made me come out of my silence my sister got to be friends with me again. She could not put up with a ‘gloom and doom is all mine’ look .. And as soon as it let go of me she was back as usual sharing my pranks and adventures.

One day we decided to visit the paddy and ragi fields in the village. One of her friend’s families owned a huge field where ragi and rice was grown. One Sunday we had our breakfast in a hurry and went over to the fields. My sister’s friend Sakku (short for Shakuntala) met us near the railway tracks. The fields looked like green ocean and we could never make out where the boundaries were drawn. But the farmers knew exactly where their fields began and warned us of trampling their crops as we walked by. I made a complaint we were not elephants and we all were chased by the old farmer.. we ran bursting out in loud guffaws and ran until we reached the field we were supposed to reach.. WHEW!!!!!

Some members from her family were already busy with work. There were no trees at all and I wondered where they took rest when they grew tired of work and sun. Sakku’s mother told me that they never grow tired of work and sun because they were made of hard mud or something like that which I had difficulty understanding because they looked exactly like us: made of flesh… Whatever, I decided that I did not want to spend the whole day where there was no shade at all.

First we had taste of fresh raw rice and ragi.. and amazingly they tasted good and so different from the food we eat. Then my sister and Sakku caught an insect she called Jeerjimbe which was green and very shiny. It measured around 2 cms and looked like this.

It lived on Avarekayi shrubs which bordered her fields. That was her gift of remembrance for my sister for the first visit to her fields. She had a match box with her in which put it carefully with one avarekayi leaf. My sister who hated bugs was for some reason was overjoyed at this gift but I whined in protest because I did not like confining the poor bug in a box. I always respected freedom and that meant freedom of bugs too. I only got back few glares and shhsshhh quite .. you are too small to talk big things kind of dialogues which I got too often. Sigh! I wandered around a lot in the fields all alone and once I shouted for help thinking I saw a snake which was just a climber created to deceive the poor me.

Finally it was time for lunch and everyone sat around in a circle in a clearing and the lunch was spread. To my horror it all looked like really hard mud rolled into balls no wonder the Mom had informed that they were not made of flesh like us..

The curry of avarekayi was smelling good but I had never seen a ragi mudde ever in my life and I did not want to eat it. My sister whispered or precisely hissed in my ears

“Wipe of that ‘I just saw a ghost’ look from your face. It is not going to eat you”.

“ I am not going to eat him either”

“It is not male”

Sakku’s mother who heard us whispering asked what happened and my sister sheepishly answered that ‘I’ did not know how to eat a ragi ball. I declared even she did not know how to eat it and got pinched by her.

“ I can’t imagine anyone not knowing how to eat a ragi ball. It is one of the most nutrient good food children can eat. All you have to do is break a piece of it and dip it in the curry and swallow the piece. Take care not to chew it. It will not be good if you chew it. This food is swallowed as whole”

Saying so she started to eat the lunch with her family. My sister was waiting for me to start and I was waiting for her to start. Finally my sister shivering a bit broke a piece of ragi ball and put it casually into her mouth. I followed her and did the same but even though I willed myself strongly not to chew it my mouth disobeyed my orders and chewed on the piece of ragi ball. Slowly it stuck around everywhere in my mouth and I had to role my tongue to clean it up and swallow it. To my horrific surprise I seemed to like the taste. My sister on the other hand did not seem to like it but tried to eat it with a smile to please her friend’s family. By the time I reached eating half the ragi ball I had been skilled in dipping it in curry and swallowing it without chewing and I relished the lunch. My struggling sister seemed to envy the way I could adapt to lunch of her friend’s family. I enjoyed my mastery of eating ragi ball as much as I enjoyed eating out in the fields under the small shade provided by some unknown tree.

After the lunch everyone spread there on the grass and had some rest and then got back to work. I could not rest and so ran about everywhere and was bitten by some stupid ants and hurt my knee by falling down on some cleverly hidden stone.

To be continued……

The Avarekayi

The lost in 'Gloom Doom era of my childhood....

In the days when I had decided that I am not going to talk much but going to stay in quietness, lost in gloom and doom, I started playing games a lot. I was so angry that I had to cycle fast or run some distance to be quite with out talking out. My grandmother was happy that finally I had learned my lesson. She kept telling everyone “ see all she needed was a good thrashing to learn to behave”. No one listened to her and no one was happy about this, not even my dad. If looks had any heat she would have been burnt then and there with the look I used to give her but I never answered her back or anyone for that matter. My aunt and mommy were worried for me and they told me it was OK if I threw another tantrum and shouted at the top of my voice rather than be quite and angry. I did not listen to them and also stopped playing much with my sister, so my sister started spending more time with her friends. No one ever allowed anyone to hurt Julie and she was finally secure in our home. Especially my aunt became very protective of her since it was kicking Julie (though it was never proven I will always know it) that was the base of all the chaos.

I went on getting better and better in my studies because to be silent I had to either read or play. When I was done with cycling and running I started studying everything and then revising them and almost had the books memorized. I never knew until then that I used to spend so much time arguing and chatting. I cannot say how many months this silent protest lasted but slowly I started speaking normally again but still I carried the angry look most of the time….

In school, we were having good time with our new sports instructor. He was very strict but at the same time good trainer. Many kids who never participated in physical activities were pulled into the games by him. He never allowed any excuse until he was sure that it was genuine one.

I used to give excuse of my club foot and not play much in school and never participated in the mass drill they organized every Saturday. I never wanted to be in competitions where others could mock my club foot or beat me badly in games. I played alone.

The new trainer told me I had to do as much as possible and take rest if I truly had pain in my leg. We had a little argument but he won because he knew I used to walk quite long distance to school sometimes instead of waiting for the bus and also when I wanted to, I played quite well. For once there was a person who could not see my disability. To him I was like any other kid. He made me sweat it out and run like everyone. Initially I thought he was my enemy.. not in the category of my grandmother or God but just a tiny bit of enemy but later on I realized that I loved the way he treated me. No special kid treatment. Tough on me, forcing me to show my best, challenging me to reach a target and I knew this is the way I wanted people to treat me.

One day he told me to come and meet him in the lunch time after I finish my lunch. I knew he had some plan for me and by now I had started to trust him a lot. The title of tiny enemy did not stay on him for long ; soon he was considered the best person I had met since meeting Mr. Right.

To be continued

Avenging Julie and learning right from wrong..........

One day a verbal duel took place between my grandmother and me. It so happened that I was coming back from school and my sister was just behind me. Instead of running into us, Julie flew at us at the level of 2 feet above the ground and landed a little in front of me. I was shocked as to what must have happened and then saw my grandmother coming after her… and concluded she had kicked the poor kitty.

“How dare you kick a poor little cat like that Naani?”

“I did not kick it.. why should I get into the bad book of God for some silly little stray cat by kicking it? She came in my way and I stumbled on her”

“Stumbling on cats does not make them fly, kicking will”

“I said I did not kick her.. that is it”

For some reason my sister was not saying anything and that irritated me a lot. She usually avoided arguing with grandmother and our dad. I could not help it.

My aunt rushed out to see what was happening and asked me why I was crying.

All the while Julie was sitting aside licking herself calmly.

Somehow between sobs I blurted out “This cruel old woman kicked my cat and it came flying out”

“Is that the way to talk about your grandmother?”

“May be not but let us talk about that later. Why should someone kick poor Julie?”

My aunt was confused and irritated for some reason.. but she managed to ask my grandmother ‘why did she kick the poor kitty’.

“That devil of the cat is always running between my legs and trying to kill me, I actually stumbled on it. I swear on Allah!”

“That is it. She swears and we cannot say anything more”.

“Swearing will not take away Julie’s pain”.

“Fari!… will you please SHUT UP now? When someone swears on Allah it means what they are saying is true. If not Allah will punish them. We are not to dispute this because Allah knows all”.

I was in utter confusion here because I had seen Julie fly .. and there had to be a kick behind it as she had no wings.. but here aunty was arguing that swearing on Allah meant that there was no kick. My eyes were lying. My aunt loved me and usually stood by me in most of the situations. So this was very irritating and also was irritating was the fact of my sister’s silence. May be she was tensed about the math’s test the next day or may be she had not seen Julie.

I did not argue more but decided that I had something to prove. My mind started chugging away like train engine.. chuk chuk chuk chuk.. and then flashed an idea.

I slowly slipped into a room where few things were kept on the mirror. I broke a nail polish bottle, wiped the mess with my grandma’s blouse, sprinkled face powder in all four corners of the room, made mess on the wall with my pencil and sat to do my homework . I felt Julie had been avenged and she slipped quietly near my feet and went to sleep proving me right.

I almost forgot about my avenging event by working math when shrieks and squeals made me realize the war had begun.. there they were blowing horns and inviting my army (only little me on one side all of them on the other) to fight.

Someone shouted “Fari! Why did you do this mess here?”

“I did not do anything”

“You are a liar”

“May be yes, but so are many of you”

“We want to know why you did this.”

“I did not do it and I swear on Allah that I did not do it”.

There was utter silence and shock on everyone’s face. It was like the world had stopped and stood still. Then all the muttering of Taubah Taubah started and they started to plead with God to forgive this devil child because she did not know what she was doing.

“What?” I said finally because it looked me this thing is never going to end.

“You stupid girl! How dare you swear on Allah just like that and that too on a lie? Don’t you know how fierce is the fire in hell?”

“Now you are not trusting Allah because you are not believing when I am swearing on him. That will make you accompany me to hell”

“How can we trust you when we can see what you have done here? Nobody came here and no one is insane to do this”.

“So when you see something and you are sure, you can question the swearing on Allah but I cannot?”

It was at this time in argument that my dad walked in. My grandmother gave a dramatic explanation of everything and finally it was the matter of me swearing falsely in the name of Allah which was presented in fluorescent words.

“This girl needs to learn right from wrong and there is no more room for explanation. She needs to be punished”. Said my dad…

So when my mother fretted (she never wanted any of the child physically punished) all watched when a nylon wire was brought, twisted and used as a whip to lash my legs. Yeah! Only legs. Meanwhile I was asked to say sorry to God and promise to never insult him in such way. I did not. I was hurting very badly and my skin had given way one or two places making it bleed a bit. But no! I had decided not to give in and it was Dad who gave up after 6-7 lashes. My grandmother smirked and unfortunately I saw that. I could not forgive her easily for that. My aunt wept and tried to pacify me but she could not even make any eye contact with me. I was not going to look at anyone of them. I was wild, angry and felt I have been wronged. For many days to come I was quite most of the time and just gave angry stares at my family when they tried to talk to me. I did not ask for food and my mother had to remember to feed me something. I stopped allowing her to comb my hair, help me have bath etc. I created my own island in the house and started living on that island and meanwhile unknown to anyone, unheard by anyone.. secretly I had decided that God was my enemy like my grandmother.

[A note to new readers.. - My blog posts under the label autobiography is true incidents from my childhood which had made huge impact on my own personality. My blog posts are a part of my journey into my troubled past. By allowing the child (me in my younger days) who suffered because she did not have anyone to share her confusions with or to  tell whatever she wants to. I am allowing my younger self to go through catharsis so that my present will be free from the past. This particular incident changed the way I look at belief and faith in God forever... 

Life with Julie....

Julie survived and became active soon enough. My mother was wrong that she would not survive with out her mother. She turned up to be a wonderful pet at first for both of us and finally got to be all mine. No! I did not do anything drastic. It just happened naturally with natures call. After feeding her and after her body had observed all the nutrition it had to throw out rest of the waste.. which did not come out with good odor. My sister is very sensitive to stink and could not stand it even for the love of the cat. My mom was very strict that we had to clean up whatever mess Julie leaves behind. So the big question stood in front of us as to ‘who will clean up after the kitty?’ My sister puked when she tried but I could do it. So finally I told my sister she had failed in taking care of kitty because cleaning after the kitty poo is a part of care-taking. My sister was in a dilemma and knew she was losing her leadership position but she was helpless. We split our rights ( it was much easier than the Ambani split lol) on Julie into 80-20. I got to own 80% of Julie for cleaning the crap.

[A Note from grown up Farida here – It was very interesting habit of my sister of dividing and sharing everything. She was always so taken up by making it equal for everyone. Our bed which we shared had a line drawn in the centre and I was not supposed to cross it. If we were given two apples she would usually cut both of it into halves and we would share instead of having an apple each. That way she felt we could taste and see if both were equally crisp and good. It is hard to believe she was right. Many times the apples or anything thus divided had different taste. Finally when we both had breast cancer ..she in the left breast and me in the right I joked that it was continuation of what we always did … but that did not make her laugh.]

Initially I was worried that my studies would be affected negatively because of Julie but it actually affected me positively in every way.. other than my tiffs with grandma over the cat. Julie would curl up near my legs and give me company when I studied. I felt her company but no interruption at all. I could concentrate more clearly because she never allowed me to feel bored and made me relax.

My grandmother found Julie to be my weak spot and started taking advantage of this new found weakness in me. She always believed that we were at war and she had to win this at any cost. She tried to prove that she was to be obeyed no matter whether she was right or wrong.

At first she tried to tell Daddy that she is allergic to kitty hair but then my sister started wailing so loud the topic of chasing away Julie was dropped like a grenade whose pin has been pulled out. My sister even scared me to some extent … Phew!

But after our division over Julie, she was with me most of the time…and my grandma started picking on her.

It was Julie who broke everything broken around the house, it was Julie who ate every missing food in the house, it was Julie who dirtied everything in the house that was dirty… everyday Julie at least committed 8 grave sins and it was concluded by my grandma that she will accompany me to hell. I may have turned into a school dropout fearing Julie’s safety but my Mom fell in love with the kitty and so I could leave her in the cruel world of cruel grammas and go to school. My Mom fed her milk and other soft food initially and later on fed her fresh fish etc. When I was not around Julie would sit under my Moms stool in kitchen and be safe.

My dad never could like Julie and I think it was because of the negative reports he got as soon as he came home from work – worn out and tired.

The dear cat would curl up on our bed and she started staying there the whole night sleeping well cozily where as me and my sister lost sleep fearing we would hurt her. Gradually we got used to it and for once in my life I was not kicking everything and everyone around me in my sleep. Julie taught me to sleep still… [and I still sleep that way though Julie is no more with me].

Hurrah!!!! We got our first pet... and how we loved it!!!!!

Read the full story here

Always............Sigh!!!

 Let me tell you what happens when people assume something always happens in a particular way. This incident was not a big deal but it made me go through a lot of emotions..

One day my mother wanted some flattened rice (Poha) and she sent me to the shop to get it. There is a shop in quite some distance from my home where such stuff is sold. I went there to find the shop closed. I came back home and told my Mom so.

“How is that? He is always open on Tuesdays. He is closed only on Fridays. He has to be there. May be you did not go all the distance because you felt lazy. He is always there and you better go and get the poha. I am getting late in serving the breakfast”

Now I start to wonder what I am to do. This is so frustrating and I am not very happy. My mind starts on its evil journey where I decide to get back at my Mommy. I decide to use the word always as much as possible in everything to irritate her.

I am standing there wondering when my Mommy says

“Now when are you going to get the poha?”

“I am not going alone. Send someone with me so that you will know I am not lying. You are ALWAYS sending only me on errands.”

So I am sent back to get the poha from the shop that is closed with my sister accompanying me. She loves to catch me red handed doing mischief. I can see the grin and now I am more dedicated to keep her included in the revenge which I would have on my Mommy. Can’t I love them? I think I do and quite a lot. But this feeling of anger and revenge comes over me when something irritates me. When I am pushed by them. I am very sure that I do not want them hurting or in pain ever. As I am walking I start wondering what if the shop keeper has come back? What if he had temporarily closed it? Would I be labeled a liar? But then I relax thinking there is always a way out. I can ask the shopkeeper where he had been a little while ago when I had come down.. Whew!!! What a relief it was.

The shop was closed. So I laugh and say “See, coming all the way down here was a waste of time and energy for both of us.. Mommy is so silly and she does not trust us ( I wanted to include her with me). We are walking back very slow when I saw a kitten shivering in mud water. I love kittens a lot and wanted to have one at home. It was so cute that I was willing to fight hard to keep it with me but then I realized that I need not do it at all LOL. I have someone else who would do all the dirty work for me.

“Babe!!! (my sister’s pet name). Look what a nice little kitty there. I am sure if washed it is going to be all white and shiny. You said you wanted a pet few days ago… ( she wanted a parrot or dog for a pet) how about taking this and cleaning it. Shall we take it with us?”

“Wow! It is so pretty. And poor thing it is suffering so bad. I hate its mother who has left it to die here. Come let us pick it up”

“Wait I saw it and I am going to take it home”

“I am bigger than you and it will be safe with me.. please let me carry it home. Here hold this bag and money. Let us pick it up and take it home and clean it”

“We need to clean it before we show it to others. Or else they will tell us it is stray dirty kitty and we should not bring it in”

Here WE is just another form of YOU. It was meant ‘you’ but said ‘we’ ha ha ha….

I knew with all her pride and I am leader qualities she would do everything all the way till fighting to keep the kitty near the bed where we sleep.

I loved the thought of my mommy waiting sitting on the small stool in the kitchen wondering “Where have they been…???????”

So off we go to a roadside water pump and clean the kitty … most of the work is done by my sister, where as I help by pouring water and making comments. She is soaked and dirty in the process. My mind is working on the two words ‘Always’ and ‘Never’. I want to include them in the coming communication as much as possible and see the effect.

So we enter the house and I give back empty bag and money to Mommy and she is sitting there with the questioning look on the stool in the kitchen. How silly it is that she thought I was lying and we both are coming back with the poha.

“Where is the poha?”

“In the shop which is closed. You ALWAYS doubt me when I say something. You NEVER agree that I do not lie”.

My mommy looked at me to say something but then was shocked to see my sister soaked wet and all dirty with something in her hand.

“Where have you both been to? What is it you are carrying in your hand?”

Now it was my sisters turn to take over and she did it smoothly,“We had been to shop mommy. It was closed. While we were hurrying back home we found a poor kitty who came running to us. We could not help but help it.. look how cute she is”

“ God! you two have been playing around with kitties when I am waiting here to get the breakfast ready. Your daddy will have to leave for factory in about 20 minutes and what am I going to serve him now?”

“It is your fault Mommy. If you had trusted me earlier you would have had lots of time to cook the breakfast for daddy and all of us. You ALWAYS mistrust me. You NEVER believe what I have to say”.

“What is wrong with you Fari? When did I not believe and when did I mistrust you? Stop saying always and never… may be once in while I may feel you are playing a prank on me … Ya Allah! It is so late now to cook anything else”.

My mother was very upset with the confusion of cooking breakfast along with a very dirty daughter with a sparkling clean kitty shivering and meowing pitifully in her arms.

“Both of you take that kitten out and keep it out until I finish my cooking. Don’t disturb me now”.

“But mommy we NEVER have any pets. Why do you ALWAYS refuse to give us any pets. We want to keep the kitty with us please please please…..”

“Shut up. It is too small to survive without its mother. Go there and look for its mother and put it back with her. You don’t want to kill it? Do you?”

My sister was aghast to hear this. “Mommy! This is quite a big kitty and I will take care of it. I am much better than its mother in taking care of it. If I had not seen it, may be some dogs would have gotten to it and torn it into pieces. I want to keep this kitty and I am not going to put it back from where I brought it”.

By then my dad asked mom if his breakfast was ready because he was getting late for office.

My Mom told us to keep the kitty and rushed to fix something quickly for dad who was getting impatient.He usually spent a lot of time getting ready for the office and then hurried up with remaining tasks. I at times wondered why he spent so much of time grooming himself every morning where as it took my Mommy lesser time to get ready to go anywhere.

My dad walked in asking “Is the breakfast ready yet? I have to leave in few minutes”.

“I am having trouble fixing something for you today. These girls took so much time to come back from the shop and they did not bring anything. In a minute I will roll some rotis for you”. 

My Mommy is a excellent cook and she had rotis and egg omelets ready for Dad who was mumbling and grumbling at the same time. He did not like cats much and if he saw the kitty when he was in a shitty mood then there was no chance of us having it.. but if they threw the kitty out I was sure they had to throw my sister out too. Once she decides to help an animal then there is no stopping her. Her sympathies are very strong and it can take away her mind and stunt the working of her sense organs. She cannot think straight, cannot hear the reason, cannot see the facts and loses her fear. Anyway we both hid out of Daddy’s sight until he went to office. Then I had an idea flashing in my mind. I had watched people bottle feeding babies and when my little brother was born I wanted to feed him too. But mommy never allowed me to feed him because she was afraid I may choke him or something. I don’t blame her because there were times when I would get lost in thoughts of God knows what and would forget what I am actually doing. So here I saw the chance of bottle feeding this kitty. My sister beamed with happiness when I told her that we should bottle feed the kitty and we both broke our piggy banks. To the horror we found that someone had been tampering with them. We had way less money than we actually put in it. But this was no time for playing police so off we rushed to the shop to buy a feeding bottle. We had a little argument over the color.. my sister wanted red and I wanted yellow one but finally she won the argument by putting some extra cash. We rushed back home and my sister slowly went up to my mother who was now busy getting the lunch ready. It was amazing how my mother was engrossed with cooking most of the time.. and when she was not cooking something she was feeding someone. My sister asked in a very pleasant tone

“Mommy can I have a glass of milk?”

“Off course Beti ( daughter) .. so finally my lovely daughter realized milk is good for her hmmm”

“Mommy I want to feed the kitty”

“Oh God! Is it still alive. It must be lucky to survive you two demon girls. Have you been picking it up and bothering it much?”

“No Mommy we have made it sleep in the basket on an old sweater”

“Whose old sweater?”

“Grandma’s old sweater. Fari said that is the best one for our kitty”.

“Off course she would say that… I can almost hear her saying that and I can also hear your grandma shrieking and making a fuss out of this .. OH! What else for today?”

“Don’t worry Mommy. I will tell Naani that I took her sweater and please let me keep it. She won’t say anything”

My sister was right. She was my grandmother’s pet and she would forgive her few murders, where as she would not forgive me one dirty look in her direction.

So she came back with the milk and we both took turns in feeding the kitty. We had to decide on a name and we decided to call her either Rosy (because of her pink nose) or Julie for some unknown reason. Finally we ended up calling her Julie because my sisters teacher was Rosy and we did not want the cat to share the teachers name.

Confusions .. Fears... Dilemmas.. God!

Later on we went on to chatting a little bit during lunch break. This was observed by few kids from my sisters class and they told her to keep me away from kids who do not belong to our school. My sister most of the time listens to her friends even when her views may differ from theirs. So naturally she told me I shouldn’t talk to kids from orphanage because they are not from decent families and not well behaved. But I have never come across anyone more fine than my new found friend so far in my life. I decided that I will talk to him more because whenever someone told me not to do something that was the reaction they automatically generated in me. Even with out anyone pushing I knew we could be good friends.  He has tremendous affection for Christianity. He is of the opinion that Jesus Christ loves all and even children who are abandoned by their parents. I was happy to know this.  I wanted to know about myself. So one day I asked him

“Do you think he will love girls who are naughty, and lie a lot?”

“You need to ask him to forgive you. He will sure forgive and love you”.

“I did not say it was me”

 “Sorry. I thought you were talking about yourself. He will love you for sure because you are good. Your lying and naughtiness is not evil, it is just mischievous and also funny at times.”

I felt very happy about that comment. It is among few of the things etched in my memory which will never fade. I was very happy then. I wanted to trade the God my family members were always threatening me of to the loving Jesus. My grandma says so often “God is going to throw you to hell because you disobey me so often. There is big fire burning in hell and it is much fierce than what you see here. Pray to him and be good. Or else no one can save you from hell”. My Mom to says something like that but in a mild manner.

My grandmother doesn’t like me at all. She at times curses me to go hell. She threatens me of God and hell very often.

“You can never go to heaven”

“Will you go to heaven Naani?”
”The all forgiving merciful Allah will put me heaven if he forgives me”

“Then I will be bad enough so that he will not forgive me. I don’t want you to pester me again. I am better off in hell if you are going to heaven. Ha ha ha.”

“You are very bad girl. I haven’t seen anyone worse and bad mannered than you”

“Who created me Naani?”

“Allah”

“So it is his fault. He hated you and all people in our family. So he created a bad girl to trouble you. You all say he can do anything he wants to. He doesn’t want me to be good. So he made me naughty and bad. May be he will put me in heaven for following his orders and troubling you all here. Ha ha ha. Please God! Don’t put me with her there, Please. If you put Naani in west than put me in east. Please ! please!”

This is just one of the many incidences that tekes place almost everyday. It was a daily routine, and sometimes I would be trashed by someone for being rude to Naani and making fun of God.

If God doesn’t mind being made fun of by me why should others bother?

 

“How do you know God doesn’t mind being made fun of?”

“They say he is all powerful. Anybody little bigger and stronger than me beats me if I make fun of them. Do you think God would keep mum if it bothered him? That means he doesn’t mind it. Anyway why should petty people stand for him? Does he need their help?

If he does than he isn’t so great. All options tell me they are wrong about God. They do not know who HE is. If they want me to follow their orders and obey them and pray sincerely they have to first be clear about the God who is forced to be involved in every mistake I make. Either tell me he is almighty who creates, protects, helps, cares and loves us or else say we have created him, let us protect him, not hurt him, take care of him and love him. They are confusing me when they punish me for not being decent when I am talking about God. You mean to say he needs them to save him from a wee girl like me who is hurting him with her comments? And everyone says the God they worship is the right one who is going to take them to heaven, (where my grandma is going, I don’t want to go there ha ha hah… ) giving proofs etc. That again confuses me. How can that be so? I would like it so much if they left me alone to grow up and find the God who created me all by myself. In the pretext of guiding me they are adding to my confusions which is making me revolt against God. I hope he understands why I feel the way I do now about him. If he really is the creator and powerful, then I do not want to trigger his anger.

I have discussed this with my friend. He feels sad to know I am so confused. He is not. It is like he has met God and knows him like I do my neighbor. Even after we became friends I cannot say I am not jealous of him.. I still a bit jealous of him for his sure ways. I am confused and it hurts me at times.

When I do not listen and obey orders, answer back rudely to my grandma and behave haughty no one realizes I am hurting very bad inside me. Those things they say about me is not just flowing like water poured over upside down placed pot as they say………. The most common comment I hear “you ignore us and always do what you feel like… talking to you is like pouring water into an upside down placed pot” Why do they not understand that they are hurting me. Why don’t they realize that they are taking away my only refuge ‘The God’ from me by describing him the way they do.