Step 3: Talking Back.
Enough said.
I Skype with literally my entire family and they all went berserk on me.
Firstly, I was tried. Secondly, there is no secondly. Let me let you in on another thing about Pakistanis, when we're tired or hungry we're lowkey savages. Actually, cancel out the lowkey bit. That was my case basically.
The questions they asked angered me even more. America is a legend to them. News flash; it's not. They've heard so many pros about the US that they completely forget that it's just another country with its flaws. Actually, come to think of it, it's a lot like Pakistan. Corrupt leaders, economic issues...
"Waha keh badaal kese hain?" Ammi asked shortly after my chacha asked "Waha ki gariyan kesi chalti hain?".
You see my problem?
So when I sarcastically replied to them, all hell broke loose. And when hell did break loose and I tried to defend myself by talking back, I worsened matters further more.
"Tumhara dimakh tikh toh hai nah?" Ammi glares at me
"Ammi ap koh kya lagta hai? Meh abhi attharah ghante ki flight seh utri hoon" I replied with an eye roll
"Badtameez!" Ammi tries to slap me through the screen, I shit you not
One of my many obnoxious aunts tsks in the background and says "Mera beta ko dekho, tumhari na shukri jesi beti nahi hain. Woh har din mujhe panch soh dollar bhej tah hai!" She exaggerates but everyone hums in agreement for some reason.
If suicide was allowed in Islam, wallahi, I would have smashed my head repeatedly on the laptop screen until it split open.
But that would have aggravated them all the more.
After that traumatic experience, I was able to finally able to go to bed in peace. Or so I thought.
~
I turned over, avoiding the sun rays emerging from the clouds. I was glad that I could sleep in today without hearing the whistle of the pressure cooker, the hoot of the kettle and the nokrani coming in with the bazillion cleaning tools. As soon as that thought left my mind, I hear a very awkward squishy sound.
Ew, it's mouths!
"Oh my" A girl gasps as soon as she sees me, fixing her hair
"Uh..." The guy mutters awkwardly
"I am so sorry you had to see that. I didn't know you were here yet" She turns to face the guy she was making out with "Dylan, can you please go get the bags?"
He leaves obediently and she faces me again "I'm sorry, let's start over. Hi, I'm Bailee and I am not a whore" She brings her hand forward for me to shake.
I shake my hair off my face and groggily sit up to shake her hand.
"Hi, I'm Myra. Pakistani and unarmed" I tell her.
She laughs "I'm glad we're getting off on the right hand".
I just witnessed a makeout session and someone said whore to my face. This is a first.
*
A/N
Another day, another chapter. What do you think? Sorry there's so much Urdu, but here are the definitions:
Waha keh badaal kese hain? : What are the clouds like there?
Waha ki gariyan kesi chalti hain? : How do the cars work over there?
Tumhara dimakh tikh toh hai nah? : Is your mind okay?
Ammi ap koh kya lagta hai? Meh abhi attharah ghante ki flight seh utri hoon : Mother what do you think? I have just gotten off an eighteen hour flight.
Badtameez! : Rude!
Mera beta ko dekho, tumhari na shukri jesi beti nahi hain. Woh har din mujhe panch soh dollar bhej tah hai! : Look at my son, he's not like your ungrateful daughter. He sends me five hundred dollars every day!
Wallahi : I swear
Nokrani : Maid.
