Love like this.

My mom is an only child so we grew up without a khala or mamun¹. Ever since we were little we felt that void in our lives as we saw friends/family being loved by theirs. The words khala and mamun were magical for us and many of our childhood make-belief games had a khala character in them. Our favorite self-invented game where we would make paper house plans and little families that lived in them; ended up being called 'choti khala' because of a khala character in many of these families we made.

When Anya was born, my sisters and I used to remember this game we had and how we finally got that wish when they became khalas themselves.  And what a joy it has been to see this khala-niece bond begin and grow. My sisters have changed dirty diapers, rocked her to sleep, stayed up nights while I slept and more than any of that, played with her those endless pretend games that only a khala-of-one can have the time and energy to do.

Where Skype is the only way we can be present in each others’ daily lives, most mornings are Anya-khala time. They play ‘Starbucks-Starbucks’ (Them: Can I have a cake pop and an apple pie?, Anya: Yes, Twenty Ten please)  become Raheem Uncle² and cook food for each other, read stories out to her or those long conversations with one of Anya’s stuffies that she’s talking as. They babysit many times as I cook or take a shower or sometimes edit pictures or write for this blog. Initially I used to keep checking, worrying they'd get bored. Thinking how long can one play and talk with a toddler from across the world! but now I know they don’t get bored. They enjoy it as much as she does!

And its beautiful that even though we never got the khala we dreamed of, Anya got not one but two mashaAllah³, and I see them everyday and realize we were right. We were missing something amazing!

As I watch her with them, I cant help thinking about many such relations around us, that are strained. I’m sure most of these started with love too, but somewhere somehow it all changed. Some grew apart, some circumstances changed, and resentment, anger, hurt, even hate crept in. Relationships don’t just continue one-sided, they are work. We should appreciate and cherish them, value them, love them and make time for them. I hope and pray that nothing ever comes in the way of these bonds that Anya shares with her khalas, phupos, grannies, taya⁴, cousins and each of the relations that are a part of her life. It would be heartbreaking because I saw where these relations all began, in love! Even when she’s 20 or 30 or 40, I hope she will love them and they will love her equally back!

Do you have any special khala or other bonds in your lives? Would love to hear some stories.

Thanks for reading and lots of love.

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FYI

¹ Urdu has specific words for relations from the maternal and paternal sides. Khala is the word for mom’s sister, Mamun for mom’s brother.

² Raheem Uncle is the cook at my parent’s house and has been with them since a long long time.

³ Masha Allah is an Arabic phrase that is used when one expresses appreciation, joy, praise or thankfulness. It is used in serving as a reminder that all accomplishments/blessings are by the will of God. In some Muslim cultures, people may utter this phrase in the belief that it may help protect them from jealousy, evil eyes, or jinxing.

⁴ Khalas: Mom’s sisters; Phupos: Dad’s sisters; Taya: Dad’s Elder Brother

AROUND ISLAMABAD: The Pakistan Monument

Pictures from an evening at one of Islamabad’s relatively new landmarks, the Pakistan Monument. The drive to this place was beautiful and so were the views of the city once you get here. Also visited the adjacent Pakistan Monument Museum, a great place for history lovers with beautifully vivid displays on the creation of Pakistan and accounts of national heroes and historical events. It is also Islamabad’s version of the Madame Tussauds with life size figures of Jinnah, Fatima Jinnah, Iqbal and many others. We weren’t able to see one but have heard good things about the multimedia exhibits that take place in the museum too. Truly a great addition to Islamabad’s places to visit.

Thanks for reading. Lots of love.

Thoughts on why I don’t share her face here.

When a friend of mine had her daughter a few months before mine, I remember finding it interesting that she never put pictures of her little girl online. Being picture obsessed that I am, I thought I’d never be able to do that.

But when Anya was born, I don’t know what happened but it just didn’t feel right putting her face out there. I convinced my husband and our families to adjust their privacy settings so only the closest family and friends were able to view those pictures. We were overjoyed with her existence in our life, her tiny little body full of newborn fuzz, her loud cries and those focused eyes. To us she was beautiful and we didn't need the whole world's approval. In the moment, I don’t think I had enough time to think my thoughts through. I just knew that was what I wanted to do.

It was hard at times, but as time went by, the habit stuck and I got creative with her pictures. I realized that even though our faces are the reflection of our hearts, our stories can be told in many other ways. I want her story to be about more than just her looks. I want her personality to shine through, I want her thoughts and her words to be as important.

Even though I have this urge to write and share through this journey of mine, I want to protect her from the unfathomable types of predators that scroll the internet.  Maybe I am conservative or superstitious and I’m also not sure what the future might bring, or how my ideas might change in the days to come. But for right now, this is what feels right to me and I choose to stay true to that.

There is a fine line when you start to share parts of your life online, of what you share and what you hold back and I am treading that line right now.  At the end of it, blogging and sharing my pictures online is my choice, not hers and I don’t want to take it away from her.

Just wanted to share some feelings on this as I know many of you wonder about it.

Thanks for reading and lots of love.