A pakistani girl.

‘Mubarak ho! Beti paida hui hai.’ Your mother holds you for the first time in her arms and you’re so tiny that you fit in perfectly. She looks at you, forgets the pain and kisses your forehead. ‘Meri pyaari beti. Welcome to the world.’ She says.

The nurse takes you away so that you meet your family. Your father is the second person to hold you. The words of the azaan echo in the room. You know he loves you because you’re his little princess. Then you meet the rest of your family. You look at your daddi and notice that she’s not so happy. Why? Because you’re a girl.

The first few years of your life are perfect. You start crawling but your mom has to be careful. There could be something on the floor that could hurt you. So she cleans the house for you. Every little thing that you can swallow is taken away. Sometimes you crawl under the bed and sometimes you crawl under the chair. Everything seems to fascinate you. Even the doll that you’ve chewed on a million times.

After a couple of months, you learn to walk. You get up, take a few steps and fall. Your mother who is busy making food in the kitchen suddenly notices you and runs to hold you in her arms. She tells your father that you’ve finally started walking. He wants to see.
So you hold his finger and walk with him like a little penguin. He’s happy.

‘ISS baar betay hona chaheye.’ You hear your daadi talk to your mother. ‘Larkiyan tou chali hi jaati hain, khandan kon agay bharhaye ga?

By the time you join school, you have a baby brother. It’s the first day of school and you’ve been told that mama couldnt come because she has to take care of bhai.
You cry so much that your eyes hurt. The teacher takes you to the class.

You’re 15 years old and hes 12 years old now.
‘Mama mujhay Fatima ki birthday pay jaana hai. Jaaon?’ You ask your mother.
‘Haan beta jaao.’
‘Nahein bilkul nahein, halat nahein dekhay tum nay? Kal tv pay tou news aa rahi thi kay 5 saal ki bachi ka rape hua hai. Balkay issay kaho chaddar pehn kay jaaya karay.’ Your daddi tells this to your mother.
You feel angry and tears of frustration fall down your cheeks. After 5 minutes, your brother tells your mother that he has to go out with his friends.
‘Haan mera beta, jao.’ Your daddi let’s him go.
You sit in your room with a book in your hand and you feel sorry for yourself. ‘Agar mein larka hoti toh..’
You hear raised noises from your parent’s bedroom. They are fighting. It goes on for hours and then its quiet. You hear your mother crying and your father leaves the house. But this doesnt end. Girls in your class are getting into relationships, you’re jealous and you want the perfect relationship too. So you start looking for it. You’re young. You’re immature. You don’t know what you’re doing but you want it. So you find a guy and you think he’s perfect when the truth is, he’s not. He tells you you’re beautiful and that he will never leave you. He wants to get physical with you. But you don’t think its right. He forces you. Threatens you. You’re scared because you love him. But after a few days, you find out that you weren’t the only girl. You were never the one. You will never be the one. He decides to leave and you get depressed. Soon, you begin to hear rumors about yourself. When you try to explain things, no one believes you. You get labelled while he is enjoying his life in a girl’s bed.

Your parents are away. You go in the kitchen. The cook is there and you’re hungry. You tell him to make food for you and suddenly, he pulls you close. He feels you up and you’re scared. You’re panicking. You push him away and run. You lock the room and cry. What happened? You don’t understand. So you cry but you don’t tell anybody.

You fail in your exams. You can’t pay attention in class. You don’t talk to anybody. But you get bullied. It changes your life. You don’t eat. There’s a sudden loss in weight and everyone begins to notice it. You’ve tried cutting yourself too but that never works. There are little scars on your left leg that might fade away with time.
Years go by and you get married. You’re pregnant now and you pray that it isn’t a baby girl.


11 thoughts on “A pakistani girl.

  1. Hi. Your blog post speaks to my heart. It feels as if you have written my feelings, and not yours. I guess this represents the feelings of almost every Pakistani girl. I am the eldest, and I have 4 siblings after me. And. I have gone through this, everything that you have mentioned… I think this happens in 90% of the families here. Just be strong, sweetheart. I have survived. It doesn’t hurt me as much as it used to. And I’m sure, even you will survive this stupid, typical thinking of our ever-so-backward society.

    Anyway. What really pulled me in and made me write a comment here is what you wrote in the last two paragraphs. And tbh, that actually made me cry. Um. I don’t know how to say this. Sexual abuse is horrible. Horrifying. Terrible. And I know. It breaks you. Shatters you. Kills you. I have been molested by my doctor. When I was 10ish, almost 11. And that trauma has never left me, no matter how much I have tried to forget it. Just know, it’s not your fault. Sweetheart. And you’re not alone. I don’t know if you just made it up for your blog, or maybe it actually happened. Id. Just. Don’t keep quiet about it… Or else it will always prevail. Tell your parents. Or just anyone. Please. Don’t hide away. This is a serious matter. That monster has to be punished… I know, you must be confused. Just. Don’t cut yourself. Or hate yourself. There is someone who understands. I’m here to listen… I never had someone who’d listen to me. My mom didn’t even talk to me, or hug me or tell me it wasn’t my fault. She was angry at the doctor, yes. But she did scold me too. Said why I couldn’t fight him off. Anyway. That’s the last we talked about it. My parents totally kept it hidden and forbade me to ever mention it, pretending nothing happened. That my soul wasn’t just ripped and crushed and broken. Anyway. Don’t do the same, please. Get help. Talk to a therapist. I swear, it will make you feel loads better. I have kept it inside all these years and it has totally destroyed me. I’m much better, now that I’m older. but. When I was in my teens, I had it really, really bad. I was failing my classes, I grew anti-social, started hating crowds, fearing men. I didn’t even have friends at school. Couldn’t deal, so I started cutting. and with time, books became my companion, my solace. But you should know. This isn’t the answer. You can get better. You can always get better.

    Anyway. I’m sorry for babbling about myself. Just. Don’t keep quiet about it, sweetheart. Tell your parents. As soon as you can. I know it’s hard to talk about it… I can’t talk about it, btw. I’m 23 and it’s been 13 years almost. I still have trouble talking about it verbally… Writing about it is easier. Much easier.

    Just, know that you are loved… I’m here to listen if you ever feel the need to talk.

    God bless.

  2. The story of so many Pakistani girls… This post made me count my blessings because I have never been made to feel this way even though we are a family of 4 sisters and 1 brother. Though stranger aunties when we meet for the first time do say that: “Aik hi bhai hai? Tch tch tch”. How and when will these small minds change?

  3. Nw this is something every other girl of our nation falls for and it is utterly pathetic! The thinking dat ‘ab beta hona chaye’ is wrong cox its not in our hands! and girls who fall for guys like these and don’t fight for themselves, remember girl if you won’t stand for yourself nobody will !!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s