Posts tagged ‘childhood’

December 12, 2011

Dear God

by Khanum

I think  childhood habits and your early days people impact you big time and mold you and make you who you are. I was born a compassionate kid – then naturally people around me molded me into  a compassionate lover.

The first lesson learnt was  – learn to compromise with —– ! with many things including relations!

Don’t be  just nice with friends at school . Be a super cute doll. Just give what they ask. Your colors pencils are made of wood not ego.

Be brave. The teacher wont bite you.

Be strong – The boys wont hit u at break time then. And the list just kept growing louder n louder n on and on.

I don’t mind anything of it But the one lesson I regret learning the most is the product of my affections for my younger cousin brother. Basit.

Whenever we got anything together. whether a toy or a piece of bread – he would compare it with mine , measure the size , look for the bigger portion and if  seen the greater thing in my hands or plate. Just one minute of tantrum and tears , and I would be forced to give up my share. The lesson to always have lesser for myself began to grow in my head and manners.

It became a habit of mine to show courtesy – even on bigger things at life.

I am to certain extent stubborn but my stubbornness doesn’t mess anyone’s existence. It revolves around mine. But  the habit mentioned above is so intense in me now that even in small things I deal with everyday – I end up somehow just end up practicising it.

You dont eat anything first – you wait for ur turn so that people or friends dont think u got the bigger portion.

You  pray for urself in the last so that Allah doesn’t think you are being selfish.

All this  good and rewarding from Allah’s side. But do people digest it proper ?

Dear God !

I am saying this again ..

living in this world is so hard –   when one is so sincere with your other created humans…

friends – family – loved ones .. ! one by one they begin to change and turn u black n blue..

Shouldn’t they be thankful for sincerity and return some comfort and be humane for ur and only Ur sake Alone Allah?

We may  try to be strong and put on a big “I don’t care” face but you know Allah – we are humans  after all. I for one – begin to loose hope in this world of yours.. and I begin to wish to sleep for long long time until I am met with you

I am tired Allah

I really am…

please don’t let anyone betray me in any way

Make me compromise at times but don’t let them bend me and break apart!

Having less is no sadness Allah – it should be just blessed and blessed more. All of the other things are then automatically compensated if we have sincere people around.

And if people begin to betray –  dodge – change.  It’s a trouble then on this heart Allah.

And then I begin to wonder – Meeting with you  is surely thousand times better than staying here. I should be with You.


I Love you Allah , please love me too. Love me enough where others forget to  love me so…

September 15, 2011

Why is there no Old Age Home for You Mother?

by Khanum

I have seen many people throwing their parents at the Old age Home. It seems like the Alzheimer part has been reversed. Instead of parents acquiring an age and forgetting flesh and blood not by will but by fate, their children are suffering from Deliberate Alzheimer and forgetting them for their personal good out of their own will.

On Eid day there was a news report on Geo TV on this issue. For them it may have been just a few minutes package to fill the time slot but the old and dying crippled mother waiting for her only son and daughter in law on that auspicious Day did not look like she could take it any longer. She said and I quote,

“….Where’s my son…? call my son…I’m scared..where’s my Akhter..” And her Akhter was no where in sight but having a blast at home with his new family.  I turned the tv off. And glanced at my own mother. A past reel began.

When I was about stuck between 8 and 7, the age where we are dragged by our feet to school functions, forced to perform ballads  in the name  of Performing arts. One fine morning the school maid came to our house. It was winters as far as I remember. I went to Blossom Public School then. Where I was to perform with a group of other kids a poem on the stage for which I needed a last minute rehearsal. It was cold and cruel to wake up  But I went with her anyway.

The rehearsals ended around 9 in the morning. I was annoyed by this time. No breakfast , no mama in sight. O Khudaya! Had she forgotten about me coming to school ? I felt terrified. Who were these people ? I did not want to stay there with them any longer. I would kick and yell and then the Teacher would soothe me down with her stare again. I would kick and yell again and she would hush me down yet once more.

This circus continued for eternity. I awaited my mother like a lover. She was nowhere in sight. I felt terrified.

Hours passed and then finally the show began. I was told to wait at the back stage for my turn. The day is quite clear in my memory. Because I was small and trying to look for my mother. I had fallen down from a bench where I stood at the back.  The kids laughed at this and this is where I really, really went hush. Few minutes pass, came my turn. I was soon carried up and placed on the stage in front of the audience. Have you ever felt a moment where you refuse to go on but have to anyhow? it was one of those times. I was a scared and forgotten cub….

That day has passed. I remember another similar incident.

It was a tough day on my grandmother. She did not feel well and was having trouble breathing. I watched her making efforts with her breath and was asked to recite Surah Yaseen by her bed.

It’s never easy…. To do this. I felt terrified again. I did not want to stay there any longer. My grandmother did listen to me reading while crying  but she did not remember this girl’s  face or any of us.

She was suffering from Alzheimer. I was suffering from fear of separation. I  was a scared and forgotten cub….again.

I would try to remind my nano again and again my name my relation with her , for a second she would smile like she remembers but then again she would forget. She was annoyed. She was terrified and she probably must  be thinking who are these people? I don’t want to stay here any longer…

It was devastating . I was the apple  of her eye and somehow it felt very hurtful that my grandmother has forgotten her only Pervisha ? That day I was forced to realize the cruelty of Alzheimer. And a fear penetrated my heart, what will happen if one day my own mother forgets my face? Can a child live if he is forgotten by his parents ? That too by a mother who was there at every step of his life? I was 7 again and I had two choices. To let her forget and be contended, or let her forget but remember the love we shared in my own memories again and again.

Sadly There are people who choose the former one. Like Akhter.

There is no Old Age home for my mother and there never will be one because that day my mother did come…she always had. I was in the middle of  twisting my arms here there on stage when my eyes fell upon her. I had made a homerun towards her like a crazy lover , ruining my performance and everything. And just when I was about to faint from fatigue of the day. She produced two slices of french toast in front of me like magic and hugged with all her heart.

I will hug you  the same Mama when you’re old.. scared and feeling like a forgotten cub..  That’s what the Prophets did. That’s what we as proper humans should do.

May 3, 2011

Life Management. Missing Toddler days

by Khanum

The fundamental job of a toddler is to rule the universe. (Lawrence Kutner)

When I was a toddler. I really was just a toddler. Nothing else.

I had the sweets for the sweets. Which is why it was very easy for my parents to lure me into a toffee trap. They wanted me to grow up soon. I wanted to grow up soon too , thinking Oh wow! how cool it would be to walk on my very own and very very personal two legs.

My first step was like a blast for the family. Mother was thrilled. So was my Nano. But there were some radical elements in the family who were like ‘So The devil has got legs too now hmmm’ ! (of course I could read their expressions. I was a toddler not an insect.) I started running. People fancied my legs for awhile and then they got bored.  So anyway. I grew up.

Time management was a concept still alien to me.

Went to college, no , went to kindergarten first. Then jumped to higher classes in school. Teachers there demanded my growth again. Though I never really understand why I happily agreed with their rush. i should have said Give me a break bonkers but ah Innocent , cute…I gradually began to blossom.

And Time Management became a force upon me.

Wake up. Study. eat. Sleep. Wake up. Study. eat sleep. Wake up. study. eat. Sleep.

In University. The ‘Sleep’ became a luxury unknown.  So the equation was: Study. Eat. Study. Eat. Study. Eat.

Then I got  job. (Yes, I finally got one, will blog about it soon) and then the equation entirely changed.

I have no equation now. 😀 Its like chal so chal.

Now I’m  not a toddler. None of the readers reading this are . We are the owners of two proud legs. Legs. Which are crippled by the burdens and feet swollen by constant running after the glitters of this fast world. We have Crazy Schedules. Which makes me envy my toddler cousins.  Their toddler-time management is nothing but a luxury please note. (Their time management includes only poo poo and sleep sleep.) And now I am the one to push them to grow up. 😀

I guess that’s how we roll han?

“A grownup is a child with layers on.”