October 25, 2010


I was panicking. Running away from what I had done, I couldnt stop even for a while to catch my breath(This time I had murdered my sister :| ). I ran and ran until it came into view : A big, beautiful, white house with royal blue windows that stood alone on the sandy shore of a sea. In my mind, I knew it was my house. I stood on a flat hill that overlooked the scene. A cold wind blew in my face and I wrapped my arms around myself. The scene was breathtaking. I felt relaxed and calm. I felt saved.

One more time I had this dream. Yes, I am a dreamer. But unlike most of my dreams, this one was clear. My escape for the mistakes I have made is always my home. Not that I dream of murdering my sister or doing it and running to my house but for every mistake I make, I have a home where I can go to and I have people in it (with or without my sister ;) ) who are ready to help me out. Home is where I can be myself and still be accepted. My home is my escape.

October 1, 2010

Chota Sa Babu

My friends loved how everyone in my family was so close, how we celebrated literally everyone's birthday, and hung out so much. "You family is the coolest", "You have the best family in the world", "You family is awesome", "I simply LOVE your family" they would say. And everytime they did, I would light up with pride.

 Being the youngest in my family, I was always adored by my parents, grandparents and siblings. I was the 6th-born and the only male child. My eldest sister was 16 years older than me. To her, I was her brother but she always treated and loved me like her baby. She would play with me and do whatever i asked her todo and I have no memory of her ever yelling at me. My attachment to her never lessened. As time went by, she got married and left our house to live in USA. The first time she visited with her first baby, I was so jealous. I wanted the attention that she used to give me. During that visit, I missed her alot even though she was there, with me. I would spend time trying to get her attention. I would make up stories about myself just to make me seem more interesting to her. I wanted to be her baby like before.

 My other three sisters loved me just as much. They would help me out with my homework and tests. And as they grew older and got jobs, they would buy me almost everything I wanted and they would bake or make anything I asked them to. They would never let me down and always stood behind my back no matter how much I screwed up.

Youngest of the five was the sister I was closest to. She was two when I was in my mother's womb. And everyday, she would tickle my mother's tummy and ask her when the baby is going to come. As I grew up with her, we became good friends. We would scratch and hit and chase each other but when the other wasnt around, we would miss each other like hell.

Saudi Arab was the country where I was born. After living my first 3 years in Dahran, when I came to Karachi, I discovered that I had cousins too. The three of them were about the same age as me and my youngest sister. The five of us started spending time together and we became closer than ever. We would share our secrets and go crazy in public and we became best friends. We used to do everything together.
Next to my grandparent's house lived a famous squash player, Roshan Khan. This one day we found their phone number and we started making prank calls everyday. Until one day, someone from his house came to complain about us. Our parents scolded us so much.And we walked to our rooms sulkily to think about what he had done.

My birthdays were always amazing. They were planned days or even weeks before the actual day. All my relatives would come and I would get HUGE presents. I remember a birthday when I went to my mom and asked her what had she got me for my birthday. She said she hadnt got anything. She had, but everyone was to give their presents before I cut the cake and I would open them after I cut it. But I asked my mom to please give me the persent then and there. So she took out a big gift from her closet. I opened it and saw what it was. And then my mom carefully wrapped it up again. Now I would open it up again after I cut my birthday cake and no one would know. It was our little secret. My parents, although never accepted the fact, but would 'mostly' buy what my sisters wanted. With me, it was always.

I never got to see my paternal grandparents. They died before I was born. However, my maternal grandparents made sure that they loved me enough to make up for them too.They would look after me and love me like no one else could and what they said about me always mattered so much. I was proud of being one of my grandmother's favourites. And my grandfather didnt love me any less. One day, I remember, when I went to his house, he said "Oh boi, look at you, you are growing up to be more and more handsome everyday". I stood up on my toes and laughed with pride. They next day, I told all my friends that my Nana thought I was becoming handsome.

My aunts and uncle were amazing. I remember the day when my uncle told me that he would lock me up in a room if I didnt eat the chicken. I had never tasted chicken before that, but when I did (with his fear) I liked it and since then, chicken is what I survive on. And this one day my aunt made me eat mutton. It was also on my not-to-eat list. When I got to my mother, I cried and told her how she had tortured me with mutton. And although I didnt like mutton even after that, I cherish the memory they left me to smile on.

And now I realise why my friends were jealous. They envied the awesome people in my life.