Finding out who I am - An autobiography

IX - Married life

After our wedding, I moved into my husband's rented house. He lived there with his older brother and two friends. My husband was so polite and well-mannered. He was a simple man and keen on keeping things clean and tidy. To my surprise, he was a slow eater which was opposite to me. By the time I would finish my dinner, he would have only taken a few bites. The house we lived in was quite small, so we began to look for a bigger house. After eight months, we made the first big step in our marriage. After many months of searching we had finally chosen to buy the perfect house in our eyes. I had always lived with my family and relied on them for many things. This was the first time I felt fully independent as an adult.  On the day we received the keys for our first home, we had more good news. I was pregnant.

When we bought our house, all that came with it were sofas. Therefore, we had to buy everything else: tables, chairs, silverware, plates, beds and wardrobes. My husband's older brother (my Jait) also came to live with us. All three of us were working, so we were all quite independent. I worked in a nearby school and continued at the post office on the weekends. Even with two jobs I did not feel overwhelmed. I liked that there were only three of us in the house. There were no aunts, uncles, cousins, children or elders in the house. I did not have to answer to anyone or explain myself. I would go to work during the day, then come home to cook, clean and relax. My life was so much easier without the rush and the unnecessary whispers. No one to judge me for no reason. Everything was done to my liking.

In the spring of 2002, my younger brother got married. Daddy Ji and Ami came from Pakistan to attend. Everyone was excited and even more so because this was our youngest brother's wedding. In Pakistan, it is traditional to have a mehndi ceremony before the wedding. This is where the bride and groom are prepared for the wedding. Ubtan (a turmeric paste) is rubbed onto their skin and mehndi (a form of body art and temporary skin decoration) is applied to the bride's hands. Some people do separate mehndi parties for the bride and groom, but we held a joint mehndi. Mehndi parties are full of fun. Families get to meet each other before the wedding. I was heavily pregnant at the time, but Ami and I were still the life of the party. Singing, hosting or sorting out arrangements; we were always the ones making the most noise. Weddings were when I had the most fun with Ami. In Pakistan, we were invited to a wedding every six months. We loved providing the entertainment and making others smile.

I remember when I was nineteen years old, Ami and I went to Bahawalpur to attend a family friend's wedding. We stayed there for one week and it was full of fun events. Every night, after dinner, everyone would gather together and sing cultural wedding songs (a sangeet party.) Ami and I loved to lead. She played a dholki (a two-headed hand-drum from the Indian subcontinent) while I sang at the top of my voice and made music with some spoons. Everyone joined in and appreciated our efforts. We would sing and dance into the early hours of the morning. Ami and I always sang along with each other whenever there was a sangeet party. Even when Ami was not in the mood to sing, I would encourage her to at least play while I sang. She would always end up yelling out the lyrics with me.

A few weeks after my younger brother's wedding, I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. Ami went back to Pakistan before she was born and so did not see her. Ami had been sick for quite a while. I did not know what exactly was ailing her, but I assumed it was some type of respiratory problem as she would constantly clear her throat. In August that same year, Ami fell into a coma in Lahore. A week later she passed away. It was devastating for the whole family. I was not able to attend the funeral because our daughter was very young.

Ami left some inheritance (mostly Pakistani gold) for Bhaijan's wife and for Baji. I did not receive any and I did not fully understand why. No one thought about me; about how I would feel. I did not mind too much because if they did not want to give anything to me, then that was fine. But at least Ami could have thought of my newborn baby – the newborn baby that she could not see. It would have been nice if she had received a gift from her late grandmother. It would have been a sign of her love that my daughter would never directly feel. It would have been something to cherish for many years. I was not worried so much about the monetary value of the inheritance, but more about its sentimental value. It was as if no love was passed on to me. Even though I was frustrated and angry with my family, I did not complain to anyone. However, I did ask Daddy Ji if he could do anything, but he was helpless. He said that we should be respectful of what Ami had decided. I thanked God for whatever I was given in life. I had many blessings to count. It was not always easy to think this way, yet I was given a strong Christian foundation which was what I was most thankful for. I had gone through many challenges in my life, but everything became better in the end. I hardly ever fought or argued with my family because I always hoped and prayed for better times. I knew God was on my side. He was fighting for me.

My daughter was our little bundle of joy. As with most parents' first child, the first few months were full of discovery. When she was a few months old, my husband loved throwing her up in the air and catching her. She laughed so much at the rush and my husband's facial expressions. One day she opened her mouth so wide that a big ball of saliva fell straight into my husband's mouth. She continued to laugh enthusiastically while he decided that he no longer enjoyed this game. On another occasion, Baji, my brother-in-law, niece and nephew came over to visit. My niece put her purse on my daughter's highchair which was in the corner of the room, then she sat down in the living room with the rest of us. Towards the end of their visit, my niece went to grab her purse when she realised it was open and her favourite chocolate, Rolo, was missing. We all heard giggling coming from under the dining table and there was my daughter with her face covered in caramel chocolate. She had taken the packet out of the purse and finished the entire thing. As she was only a one year old, we had not given her any chocolate before; however, she seemed to enjoy it. We still laugh about these moments together. My dream of having my own little family was now becoming a reality.

In early 2004, I was pregnant with my second child. During this time, my nephew (Baji's son, Aaron) grew very sick. He had been ill for a few years. He was diagnosed with cancer when he was eleven years old. It had been very difficult for Baji and her family. They would make frequent trips to the hospital for check-ups and treatments. I loved him dearly. When he was about four years old, his family had lived close to our house in Pakistan and would often visit. When he cried if he was hurt, I knew what would cheer him up. I would run towards him with his favourite teddy bear and pretend to be the bear cheerfully singing, "Main bhalu hoon! Main bhalu hoon!" which means "I am a bear! I am a bear!" He laughed so much that he would forget why he was crying. We would play many games together like cars and building blocks. He also loved it when I made him snacks. Sometimes it was chips, custard, popcorn – all junk food.

Growing up, my daughter loved the TV show Teletubbies which aired on CBeebies. There were four characters: Tinky-Winky, Dipsy, Laa-Laa and Po. I bought her the plush toys which were about thirty-five centimetres tall. However, I could only find three. Aaron knew how happy my daughter would be with the whole collection, so he travelled two hours to central London to find Dipsy. I was so surprised when he came to give it to her. She was so excited – as I was. Despite being seriously ill, he had travelled all that way just to make my daughter happy.

In March, Aaron was admitted to hospital. Now that I reflect on the events, I realise that I had not known much about his condition. I was pregnant, so perhaps my family had not wanted me to worry. I had not wanted to research either since I was scared of what I would find out if I did. Baji and her family had been preparing for his passing for a while. Everyone but me could sense it coming. My head was in the clouds. Aaron did not let his illness take anything away from him. He talked to everyone, sang worship songs and played many video games with his cousins on PlayStation. It was not until his last day that it hit me. He was not his usual self. He just lay on his bed and spoke to us with limited expressions. He had stayed in the hospital for a month and now it was time to leave. That night, Aaron passed away at the age of eighteen.

In that same month, I was due with my son. It was so hard for me to cope with a huge loss in the family and being pregnant at the same time. I just wanted my son to come out, so I decided to have a caesarean. Two weeks after my nephew's death, I was blessed with a baby boy. He brought so much joy into my life during a time of sadness. Usually there are celebrations when a baby is born, but there were not many when my son was born. This was understandable as Baji had just lost her son. Aaron had been intelligent, enthusiastic and forward-thinking. He had never let adversity get the better of him. In a time of great loss, his memory gave us hope to not let his passing stop us from continuing with our lives.