I was in hijaab before I was even enrolled into school. Thin cotton fabric that I tied so tightly around my face I'm surprised I hadn't died from asphyxiation. Even though I barely understood the concept of hijaab, I never took it off. Not even for sports or when the heat became unbearable.
It was a significant aspect of my identity as a Muslim, that much I knew.
It never bothered me and I wasn't phased by other kids remarks either. Some claimed that I was bald, others thought that I was infected with a disease so detrimental only the fabric (tied so severely around my face) could remedy it, whilst there were those who assumed my brain was in temporary isolation from the rest of my body.
I indulged them. If anything I added fuel to their baseless theories.
When I was in Grade 5, I feigned temporary blindness. I was so dramatic when I wanted to be. My math teacher, Mr.Gundiwalla believed my story of 'I didn't wear my glasses while I was watching TV last night hence'. He was such a math whiz I'm surprised he couldn't calculate the fact that I never wore glasses, ever.
Then there was the time I tried to convince my class mates that my calculator actually doubled as a mobile phone. I walked around speaking at the top of my voice to some family member or the other, loud enough for aliens in some un-be-known to man planet to assume I was in fact, trying to communicate with them.
Suffice to say that I wasn't admitted in to a mental asylum as a result, though I'm not sure I can say the same for those who believed me.
I was never a loner but none of the friendships I had established lasted for longer than a year. I wouldn't say that I was difficult to get along with, even then I was a friendly child, but I was eager to please.
Too eager.
I was the friend that would stand in tuck-shop queues so I could purchase lunch for someone claiming to be my friend. I was the friend who came back from the holidays remembering to bring back gifts. I was the friend that would make an added effort to actually pitch up for a play date.
Things never ended on an ugly note they just faded away into nothingness.
I'd start each year afresh, different friends, a variation of me.
I was constantly trying to fit in, to be a part of the other kids. I didn't realize then, the value of being my own person.
That is often the case, we struggle so hard to find ourselves in our everyday living, to fit in, to be seen as someone equal, or on similar wavelength as others that we forget being different doesn't mean irrelevant.
We may have varying preferences, likes, dislikes and habits but this is a result of the pattern of our lives having a different thread course.
I wish I knew then, that being different wasn't a fart that needed to be contained
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