La'l Meri

ايك

I hear a little noise and turn my face up to see Amma entering. I hurry to greet her and take her chador.

"Assalam aleykum, Amma!" I say.

"Wa aleykum assalam, Faarah dear," Amma replies.

"How was your day?" I ask.

"As it always is. A few of my fellow workers said that they may increase our wages. That's one good thing I heard today."

"Oh, Amma, why do you not let me work? It's not like it would be a burden. I'm free after school anyways. Please, Amma," I plea.

"Faarah n-

"Faarah! Leila! Come down here, you two! I need help with the food!" Shouts aunt Shakeela. And this is my life.

I really wish aunt Shakeela would stop this. Amma tells me when she took us in she said we were not to bother her and were to live on our own, and that she was only offering shelter. But I don't remember Amma ever telling me that we were to help in her household too.

I start to wear my shoes to leave but Amma stops me.

"Here, I got this for you on the way. Wear it, you'll look beautiful, my dear," says Amma, holding a red kurta.

"Oh, Amma, you didn't have to! Thank you so much! It's beautiful," I say, holding it.

"Why don't you change and then come?" Amma says. I nod and turn to the makeshift bathroom we have. I quickly put it on. I look at myself in the broken mirror (aunt Shakeela gave it to us when she was about to throw it away, but thought better for once).

I like it a lot. It's been a while since I got something new. Actually the last time I got new clothes was on last eid.

I hurry and leave the room. We live in a single room on aunt Shakeela's roof. It's not the best accommodation - it's not even completely solid. But Amma taught me to be thankful for what I have so I don't complain.

I enter aunt Shakeela's kitchen and Amma gives me vegetables to cut. It's been a minute since I've been cutting them when aunt Shakeela enters. She makes sure we're doing everything right and then turns to leave but thinks better of it.

She looks at me and squints. She says, "I see you're wearing a new kurta today, Faarah." Oh, God. I know what's gonna happen now. I turn towards her and hesitantly smile.

"Y-yes. Amma got it for me today," I say. She takes a step towards me and feels the material of the kurta. She turns to Amma and stiffly says, "You know, it wouldn't be bad to get something for us once in a while too, Leila. I am giving you a place to stay after all." Amma looks down. She turns and briskly walks away.

I hate her. I absolutely hate her. She always makes us - Amma, especially - feel this way. She likes to embarrass us. She likes to remind us that we are hear because of her goodwill. Like if you treat people like this if a you have a good heart!

I check that she's gone and hold Amma's shoulder.

"Don't listen to her. You know she's like this," I say to her, trying to make her feel better. She just nods and squeezes my hand back, but I can see her glossy eyes.

It wouldn't be a surprise to hear that she hates this miserable life as well. She only keeps it together for my sake.

I send Amma up. I can not bear this. I wish to teach aunt Shakeela some manners but I know better than that. It would be easier to shatter mount everest with as mush as a blow of my mouth than put some etiquette into that lady's head.

I finish work in half hour and go up to our room. Amma is cooking lunch.

"Oh Amma! Leave that. Just leave it to me. You should rest," I say to her.

"No, Faarah it's fine." I can't take this. I just don't like to see Amma work. She already does so much for me. I silently take everything from her hand and insist on her resting.

I finish my homework at night. I always do my homework at nigh. Amma doesn't like it because if the power goes out - which it does sometimes - I wouldn't be able to do it. We don't have a UPS ao anything and Amma insists I don't work in candlelight, not good for my eyesight.

Though I like working in candlelight. I like the dark.

This is pretty much my life. Let me tell you how I look. I'm fat. Yes, that's it. I'm very fat. In my school I have good friends though. I have wheat-ish complexion, average height.

Aunt Shakeela taunts me on being fat sometimes. But I bet it's her own insecurity of being fat. No wonder if you just look at her she would block your view from the rest of the world. Yes, that's her.

So aunt Shakeela has a pretty big family. She has a daughter and three sons, all fat. Well, one son is not though, but he's so skinny he doesn't even count. No wonder his mom eats all his food.

The daughter is her photocopy. Her name is Sara and she's a year older than me. Since she is just like her mother she also loves making mine and Amma's life miserable. The sons ignore us to our pleasure.

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Its been a while since I last wrote so please don't mind the short-ending-in-a-weird-way chapters.
Ah bye
- mabaker24