My Desi Conundrum!

Chapter 1

It was just another ordinary summer day, stifling heat, scorching sun but thank God for the fan. Who could have been comfortable in such weather, no less a pregnant woman at term. Her husband away for work while she anticipated that her baby just might choose hottest day of year to finally arrive.

Definitely not a comfortable situation.

Ice and cold water, her friends of the day. The fan making a ruckus, working at full speed, curtains trying to block the unrelenting sun. Her body swollen in all the wrong places, every position uncomfortable. To sit, stand, or lie down, no solace could be found. Her back hurt, her feet rebellious, and even consumed food causing that wretched heartburn. Truly no comfort can be found in a situation like this, and no shoulder to cry on. Her husband's job was 'the other woman' in this relationship. She felt like crying and hurling the vase at the wall, at the same time. She has been anxious since last night, she had become a bit accustomed, that is as much as a person can, to physical discomfort, but this disconcerting anxiety had her on edge. She prayed for safety, health, and happiness, of her loved ones, she tried to meditate, she tried to concentrate on other activities, but anxiety prevailed. Perhaps it was those damned hormones acting up again, or perhaps...

Her mother always said that a woman would know when her baby decides to be born, even before those horrid contractions, perhaps this feeling was her sign?

But seriously, on this day?

Her husband isn't home; she won't be even able to find a rickshaw or a taxi in this heat.

Oh bother!

And yet just as she anticipated the baby did start struggling against the safe cocoon of her nurturing womb, what an impatient child that one.

Bother bother!

What to do?!

Hopefully it's a false alarm?!

But little did she know this was just the start of a lifetime of peculiarities and ill-timed decisions on her child's behalf.

And hence, on this blessed day I was born, the first born, the beautiful, surprisingly active, healthy baby girl of 3.1 kg. Who had her father rushing to the hospital with boxes of mithai, laddus being the preferred selection for such an auspicious occasion. Those golden balls of sweet soft deliciousness, just the right kind of chewy, ok its mouth watering to even think of them. Hospital workers happy for the free treat, for babies were born daily, but it wasn't everyday that a delirious father distributed ostentatious amount of food among the people.

It wasn't custom to celebrate a girl's birth in such a grand manner, but my parents didn't care boy or girl. They were happy that they had their own child to hold and to cherish. And as all cliché stories go, this wasn't much different either. Though my parents were ecstatic but my paternal grandparents were sorely disappointed. Their eldest son's first born, a girl?!

Oh he must have done something really sinful to be burdened so.

Their heart heavy with grief for my father, and animosity for my poor mother.

But my parents were happy to just have me, what does it matter boy or girl, they were blessed with a child. They are from a generation more concerned with the health of their baby rather than the gender. My paternal grandparents, well, yes they are all together another story. And that's how I began my life, amidst family drama and absolute bliss in my parents' arms.

I lay there suckling my thumb, and my mother cooed all the sweet nothings a new mother does. The mystery and miraculous ingenuity of the creation baffling the new parents. What they saw was a perfect combination of each other, one half completing the other, making a whole new being, though unique on her own, but the ancestral roots showing in her every cell. Tiny pout of her rosebud lips, her plump little fingers, those curious intelligent eyes gazing at them, that angelic face, her toothless smiles and giggles, curling up in sleep, her adorable yawns, what was not to love, and every look made them fall in love with her more and more. Though not rich themselves, they provided the best of everything they could. And their patience with her knew no bounds, from sleepless nights to diaper disasters, they were happy with it all. And I, though no real memory of that blissful time, know in my heart, how utterly happy, blessed, and safe I felt. All their attentions and energies focused on me, that I never once in my life had fears of the boogeyman or the monster in the closet. As I grew up, and got to know that my age mates were afraid of such, I was rather curious to meet the said monsters myself, and ask them to stop scaring my friends.

They will accept my request won't they?

They never scared me, so it must mean they like me, right?

Ah the blessed naivety of childhood.

I felt invincible, my parents my super heroes.

So confident in myself that I begged my parents to get me enrolled in school. My mother still has that first photograph, taken for the bus card. A smiling eager face looking into the camera, ecstatic for being old enough to go to school. An achievement indeed!

Alas, little did I know I would spend next twelve years of my life cursing this very day.

And to school I went, for next fifteen years, the three initial years of nursery, preparatory class 1 &2, and horrendous 12 years of the formal education. Well to be frank it wasn't that bad, I was a straight A student, though not because of me, it all goes to my mother. I would find any way that I possibly could so that I wont have to study, but she, always motivated to see her daughter excel, and achieve even a fraction of what intellect she possess. She pushed me, punished me, rewarded me, but made me study all the same. Anything less than top of class wasn't good enough. She saw the potential in me when other told her how hard she was being on me and herself. She worked to make me realize that potential in myself and gain confidence from it when others couldn't. My father proud of my performance, still asked my mother to go soft. I am glad she didn't.

My parents aren't the average brown parents who push their children in academic pursuits only. They encouraged me to take part in all possible extracurricular activities I could. An, only child, they focused all their energies on me. From regular travelling throughout the country to community bicycle races, they did it all. I never won the bicycle race but I never did lose a debate either. They woke the traveler in me. Taking me places, for Pakistan is a tourists dream, from deserts to mountains, from cactus to juniper, from dolphins to lamas, it has it all. And my parents made sure to make travel a mandatory part. Train, plane, or road, we did it all. While my father instilled this travel fever in me, my mother stoked the fire of adventure within. My first book that I ever read other than nursery rhymes etc, was at age five, and that too a proper novel that kids normally read ages ten and above. We went to the library twice a week, I could get 1 or two books on each trip and return the previously borrowed. She also got subscription for various children magazines and digests. And I soaked it all up. Their faith in me, made me believe in myself. I was never shy, the ever confident, the ever shining star. They did it all. I hated to study but I loved to go to school. I always had a million friends, and my life, never a bore.

The life changing time came when it was time to go to university. My parents wanted me to be a doctor, but I never fancied the profession much. They had left it up to me to decide but in the end I decided for them, they had given me so much, couldn't I make them a little happy by choosing the career of their choice?

And so I did.

I got into a prestigious medical school. And that's when my life took a turn for the unknown. It was in this med school that the naïve girl came to realize the truth of this world.

But that's a story for another time.

This is the story of what happened after med school.