Chapter 35 | Dear God | Zahra and the co-signed letter

11/06/2004

Dear God

There are instances in our lives that make us question whether what we are doing is right. Maybe that happens more often than not.

One of the hard hitting lessons of today was that by doing what WE feel is right isn’t necessarily what the rest of the world would deem ‘right’.  I used to think I could portray a ‘I don’t give a shit’ attitude without displaying any weakness but now I’m not certain.

I’ve let my closest friend down. Recently we landed in a pile of trouble when one of our Appa’s found a letter to a boy that we had co-signed. When you’re in an Islamic institute the word ‘boy’ is sufficient enough to warrant a call to your parents. And thus began one of the most terrifying days of our lives. Leave aside the fact that Papa would practically hit the roof had he found out.

Zahra had written the letter and I had signed my signature (in agreement) at the bottom of it. Luckily, for me, my mum was the only one called in as my dad was at work. None of us called blame but neither did we side together. We sat apart afraid, more than anything, of the repercussions of our actions. You have to understand that neither of us came from homes where being called in to the principal’s office would be considered socially acceptable, and that too the principal of an Islamic institute.\

I admit, I am grateful for my mother. She is one of the most logical persons I know (when she isn’t emotionally clouded) and therefore on our way home I wasn’t subjected to a spew of curses. Instead, my mother jokingly said that she still doesn’t understand why she was called in and that whatever it was we had done, should not be repeated.

I realize now, that it was because of my mother’s calm demeanour, that I didn’t turn out to be rebellious. Like her, I did things only after substantial amount of thought was put in and therefore rash decisions were never in my resume. I was spontaneous yes, but never rash.

On a different note I’ll be turning 16 in a month. I’m excited but also apprehensive.

Growing up means that we have to shoulder more responsibilities and I wonder if I’m ready for that, whether I’ll ever be ready for that. How I wish I could be 13 forever. The older you are the more you’re subjected to the question of ‘what will people say?’ This wasn’t a question I asked myself, it was a question the adults in my life would continuously repeat.

At times I question whether there isn’t any more to our lives than the opinion of others. Whether our merit isn’t a determination of how far we’ve reached or the good that resides within but merely a sum of the verification we received from others. The older we get the more we become aware of this but then too, the more we act in accordance to the validation we receive from others.