Snowber And I

I started going to school by myself after I received detailed instructions by Ammi on what to do on the road. ‘Nomi, always look both sides of the road before you cross it’. ‘See that motorcycle…it is too close…step away and let it pass’. ‘Always look at the traffic while you walk and do not take any laddoo (my favorite mithai) or any sweets from a stranger.’

I loved walking to school. I did watch out for the traffic some but mainly I looked at the houses along the way. There was one house with a gigantic umbrella built on the top of the roof. The umbrella was painted with a rainbow of colors…red, blue, and yellow and others. There was a sign on the house, which I read with great difficulty. It reads ‘Chattar Manzil’ (Umbrella House).  When I see the Chattar Manzil, I know I am about halfway to school.

One day, as I had just passed Chattar Manzil, I saw one of my classmates standing on the roadside with her mother. She was fair complexion with hazel eyes, blackish brown hair tied into two ponytails. I had seen her in class but did not know her name. She reminded me of Snow White from my storybook. Her mother was smiling as she asked me what my name was. When I told her, she said ‘Nauman I have seen you walk by everyday to school all alone. Why, you must be a brave boy’. I liked that compliment and felt very comfortable. She was no longer a stranger. Then she asked me ‘Is it okay if Snowber went along with you to school?’ When I said yes, Snowber took my hand and said ‘Well then, let’s go’. So we walked towards school hand in hand while her mom stood watching, smiling and waving.

Along the way, we passed a nice house. Snowber pointed to the house and asked me ‘Do you know who lived in that house?’ I told her I did not know. Then she said to me in an incredulous tone ‘Everyone knows that Intikhab Alam lives here’. ‘You mean the famous Pakistan cricketer, lives here’ I said with astonishment. She said ‘yes indeed’. I knew Intikhab Alam, I had seen him play at the National Stadium but did not know much else. After that day, on my trip back home from school, I would linger a bit in front of his house to catch a glimpse of him but alas, I never saw him.

Now my new routine was that I walked to school alone until I reached Snowber’s house. She would be waiting for me with her mom. From there we went to school together. It was about this time that Miss Lulu picked me to recite ‘Baera seven days in a week’ (See my blog O… The rhymes I Heard). She had also made me the ‘class monitor’ for a day as she went out for a meeting. As soon as Miss Lulu left, the class was no longer interested in the lesson and started to talk. Initially they talked in whispers and then became louder and louder. Fearing that this noise will soon land all of us in trouble, I asked and then pleaded with them to keep quite. When that did not work, I decided to use my singular ‘authority’ to punish the troublemaker by asking them to stand up on the bench. I looked around and saw that Snowber was making the most noise. Therefore, I asked her to stand on her bench. She gave me a look that made me realize that I had made a big mistake. Still staring and with her face turning red, she stood up slowly on the bench. The classroom was quite now, but I had a very uneasy feeling. After a couple of minutes, I asked her to step down, which she did, but her expression did not change much. Soon the bell rang to announce the end of the school day.

As was our routine, we started walking home together. Today however, she was very quiet and I tried to make conversation as though nothing had happened. We were soon in front of her house. Suddenly she turned around and punched me hard, right on my nose. Before I could react, she hit me again. I was stunned. But now it would be my turn. I started to raise my hand and then suddenly remembered my promise to my mother. I had promised her that I would never hit a girl.

With that thought, I let my hand down.  By this time, Snowber’s mom was running towards us and saying ‘Snowber… stop!!!’. When she reached us, she admonished Snowber for hitting me and then she looked at me. My nose had started to bleed and tears were running down my cheeks. I could see empathy on her face. She told me that it was bad of Snowber to hit me like this. Then she said to me, ‘Come inside Nauman, I am going to tidy you up. With that, she held my hand, took me inside the house, and washed my face. Then she gave me some water to drink.

As I was leaving she said, Nauman I saw that you were about to hit Snowber but then you did not, why?  I explained to her, ‘I had promised my mom that I will never hit a girl’. At that, she held  me close and kissed me on the cheek, and said ‘You are a good boy Nauman’. As I was walking home, I made a mental note to myself. ‘Nauman never hit a girl and do not make her stand on the bench either’.

The scenes From Our Roof-top

Our house had a roof top with a wall securing the periphery. Here, we were in our house and yet very much in touch of what was going on in the street below. We played on our roof-top-- my older sister, younger brother and me. When we got bored playing, we would just sit there, watch the people on the street, and keep a watch for the ‘Kulfi wala or Gol Guppay wala’.

Some of the street hawkers had bells under their ‘thelas’ (wooden cart). They attached a rope to the bell, the other end of which was tied to the handle of their thela. When they pulled on the rope, the bell produced a sound, which was music to our ears.  If we had money, we bought whatever it was that they were selling, unless it was specifically forbidden.

 Others used their strong voices to announce their presence.

‘Harey Harey Harey Karale- ley-ley’ shouted the ‘subzi wala’ in a booming voice seem to fill the air. And it worked. The busy house wives dropped everything and were at their doors with thelas or baskets to get their daily vegetables.

One day, my elder sister and I were playing ‘Phel Dooj’ (our version of Hop scotch) on our roof.

We used pieces of broken ‘mutka’ to aim and throw at the nine squares. It was my turn and I was on the square number 8. I aimed carefully and threw. To my dismay, my Geeti (piece of mutka) broke into two. One landing on the eighth square and the other falling out of the playing area. My sister was seven (two years older than me) and much better player of the game. Now I was ahead of her for the first time. This was my first real chance to beat her in Phel Dooj. Would you be surprised that a dispute arose? First it was ‘it is in’ vs. ‘no it is out’. Then came pushing and shoving. And finally she punched me and shoved me hard. I fell to the cemented floor. And there I stayed. It hurt and I tried desperately not to cry.

Finally with tears rolling down my cheeks I went down and complained to Ammi. She listened patiently. Then she wiped the tears off my face and gave me a hug and a kiss.  Then she said something that has stayed with me as a guiding principle. She said ‘You did the right thing by not hitting your sister back. ‘Boys do not hit girls’. I told her that this is not the reason I did not hit back. She is strong and I was afraid if I hit her she will hit me back a lot harder. May be if I drink a lot of milk and become strong, I will then hit her. She said ‘No, Nomi you promise me you will not hit a girl ever’. I asked her why. She said Nomi you are too young to understand why. Perhaps you will some day.

So far, in my 5 years my Ammi had always been right but on this occasion I had some doubts. However I was sitting in her lap which at 5 was a bit unusual for us and I knew she loved me.

Therefore, I promised her not to ever hit a girl. I did not know then how soon I would be tested on this promise.

O…The Rhymes I Heard

I was in school now and learning Nursery Rhymes. Since this was an ‘English Medium’ school, all the rhymes I learnt were in English.

As if not knowing much English was not bad enough, I was a little hard of hearing as well (courtesy of getting Streptomycin as a toddler).  That combination led to my unique interpretation of the English nursery rhymes.

The first one I heard goes like this

‘Ini mini maena mo

Paisa leka baees ko

If it cream let it go!’

It was years later that I realized that what I was supposed to be singing ‘Catch the tiger by its toe…If it screams let it go’.

Our English teacher Miss Lulu bless her soul, never corrected us or made us understand what we were committing to our memories.

Another one I remember was

‘Jack and Jill went up the hill

To fetcha peala waaaaater

Jack fell down and broke his crown

And Jill came tumbling aaaaaafter’

My favorite one started like this

‘Singa songa six pens’  (Sing a song of six pence).

Perhaps I should not be complaining too much about my hearing loss. It helped me become ‘class monitor’.

Miss Lulu, our English teacher wanted to teach us the proper British accent. In particular she was keen to impress upon us that the ‘r’ sound at the end of words (such as  there, where, care, are etc.) was silent and you were supposed to have your mouth half open after you finished saying there or where. Needless to say it was a tall order for us kids whom primary knew little English, British or not.

She wanted the kids to learn saying ‘There are seven days in a week’ However, most of the class still emphasized the ‘r’ in there are. This made her very frustrated…until she heard me. I was not saying the ‘r’ in ‘there are’.

You see only I understood the teacher. I heard that she was not saying ‘there are’ but ‘baera’ a word I had my dad used while summoning a person (bearer or waiter)  to order French fries for me at the Officers’  Mess.

 Miss Lulu liked the way I was saying the sentence and asked me to step forward say it for the whole class. Then she told the class to repeat the sentence ‘There are seven days in a week’ after me.

Therefore, the whole class repeated the sentence ‘Baera seven days in a week’. Miss Lulu was very pleased. She said to me that Nauman, I make you the class monitor right this minute. She told me that my job was to have the class repeat the sentence after me while she was going for a ‘meeting’.  I thought for a moment. Indeed, it was a great honor to become the class monitor, but the prospect of me managing the whole class of 30 kids without the teacher was scary. ‘But miss, I said, if the kids start talking with each other and not listen to me what would I do?’

‘Then you report them to me and I will punish them when I return, reassured Miss Lulu, and added you can also ask the kid who misbehaves to stand on the bench’. With that, Miss Lulu left for her meeting. What happened next? You will find out in my blog post.

Our Nazimabad Neighborhood.

Now that I was going to school, my parents allowed me to play outside the house and explore the neighborhood. If I stepped outside and looked to my left, I could see the minarets of ‘Masjid Khirul Amul’. The lot adjacent to the left of our house was officially ‘vacant’. However, it was occupied unofficially by a behari family who had put up a ‘Jhuggi’ (Temporary housing). They were friendly people always willing to help. They kept a few hens and got very excited when they found an egg. I remember waking up one morning by an excited voice announcing ‘Amma Murgi ney unda dee’. The owner of the voice was Aslam, a boy slightly older than me. They also had a small shop inside the Jhuggi were kids could by toffees and biscuits and other such treats. One day after buying my treats, I lingered and stuck up a conversation with Aslam. He was going to school too but to a different one than mine. One day I saw Aslam playing a game his elder brother. There were black and white squares on the board and there were black and white plastic pieces of different shapes. A few pieces looked like a horse’s head. I asked what it was. Aslam told me it was ‘Shatranj’ and proceeded to give me my first lesson on a game I play to this day.

Towards the right of our house was a big house with an actual lawn. They also had a huge cage with colorful small birds by the dozens. Unfortunately, the children in that household were all girls, all of them older than I. In addition, they were not friendly. They also had a huge black dog. We were all terrified of this dog. Sometimes the dog was out in the street with a collar and no leash; it would chase anything that moved. Cars, bicycles and even kids very a fair game. One day as I was running back towards my house as Ammi had called, the dog started running after me. Terrified, I ran hard. However, he kept gaining ground and the passed right past me. Only then did I realize that the dog was not running after me but rather it was racing me. We did not know what its official name was but it soon got a name in our household. Our Dadi Amma was visiting us from Lahore. She spoke some Urdu, but felt more at ease speaking her native Punjabi. We on the other hand spoke Urdu only. When she saw the big black dog, she remarked ‘aye te sher wunger lukda aye’ (It looks like a tiger). What we understood from her sentence was that Dadi Amma had called the dog ‘Sher Mungal’. Therefore, from then on we called this neighborhood dog Sher Mungal.

My favorite part of the neighborhood was the triangular piece of land created due to a fork in the road. The left limb, going towards my school and the right limb curving back and disappearing from the view. The neighborhood boys hung out here. The older ones played cricket with the real hard ball. Us younger either ones watched them play or when the ground was available played our version of cricket with a tennis ball. Sometimes we had a ‘wrestling match’ when a new kid came to the neighborhood. As part of his ‘initiation’, he would wrestle a kid. Since I was the skinniest boy in the whole neighborhood, the first match would normally be with me. Typically, the introducing boy will have one arm over the shoulder of the new boy and introducing him to the group. After a brief introduction, the introducing kid will ask me ‘tum is say lar sakoo gey?’ After I would reluctantly agree, the ‘wrestling match’ would begin. It was not much of wrestling though, for it primarily comprised of pushing and shoving until one of us fell to the ground. As soon as that happened, the match was over. The fallen kid was helped up and we all became friends. I lost frequently in these matches. Unable to gain much weight possibly due to my desire to run much of the time, I decided to focus on running and dodging. I could evade almost any pursuing kid with my body dodges. This skill would come in handy at school when I played a game called ‘Save’ and football. But more on that later.

1963: Nazimabad Number 4, Karachi

We have moved to mainland Karachi, now. We had to take a Navy Boat to cross over to mainland while our stuff came over a land route which connected Manorah to Karachi, but took many extra hours.

I love my new house. It is called ‘Nilofer Mansion’ While it not a mansion by a long shot, It is a two storey house and we live on the top floor. Our portion of the house has three bedrooms a drawing room and a kitchen. However my favorite parts of the house are the roof-top and the balcony. There is a tree that reaches our balcony from the ground. It covers the entire side of the balcony giving us much privacy. The tree has flowers of red-orange color petals with a yellow base. If you look towards the center, you can see filament arise which have individual pollen at the end.  My older sister and I play a game with these stalks (filaments). We call it ‘Murghay Larana’. We each hold a stalk with the singular pollen dangling at the end. The goal of the game is to dislodge the opponent’s pollen while keeping yours intact. We also love to eat the base of the petals where it is yellow. It is tart and tangy in taste. So what do we call this flower? Well this is easy… ‘Murgah Phool’.

My sister is strong and she likes to climb trees. One day I saw her climb down the ‘Murgah Tree’. She went all the way down to our neighbor’s house. I promise not to tell Ammi as long as she doesn’t do it again. I do not like her doing that it looks dangerous. She promises and I did not see her do it again.

I am now five. When someone asks Ammi when is Nomi going to school she says ‘Nomi Abhi Chota hai’.

I like that.

However this does not last long. One day Ammi takes me for a walk. It is a long walk. It takes us about 20 minutes to get to a building with a huge boundary wall made of bricks. We pass inside large gates. It is ‘Happy Dale School’. Ammi explains that it is for happy kids just like me. Ammi takes me directly to the principal’s office and says, ‘I am here to admit my son’.

The principal says ‘You are a little late, the session started three months ago, ‘why did you not bring him earlier?’ Before my mom could answer, I decided to intervene, ‘Mein Abhi Chotta Houn’, I said, defending my mom.

At this the principal and my mom started laughing. Ammi explains to the principal that she herself has a Masters degree and used to teach in school until last year. ‘I thought that I could ‘home-school’ my son for another year’, my mom said. ‘However, Nomi likes to play all the time with his brother and sisters’. ‘I could not even teach him the English alphabet’.

‘But I do know the alphabets’, I said indignantly.

‘Really, said the principal, show me how you write it’. I thought she meant if I would sing the alphabet, which I could, of course. But I had not learnt how to even hold the pencil.

‘Sure’, I said, ‘’no problem’.

I grabbed the pencil in my fist, as if ready to stab and then on the white sheet of paper provided, proceeded to draw one gigantic ‘O’

My Ammi and the principal smiled at each other and my fate was sealed. The year was 1964 and my formal education had started.

1962 PNS Bahadur Naval Base on the Islet of Manorah off the coast of Karachi.

I am running all alone on a black-top parade ground, as fast as my legs could carry me.  Suddenly I fall. Both my knees are scraped. It hurts a little, but I am used to it. Calmly I limp home and try to hide my bleeding knees from my mom.

'Ammi', I call her. 'Nomi,' she calls back 'What happened?' She already knows though as she had been watching me from the window all along. ‘Nomi, how many times have I told you not to run so hard?’ Not waiting for the answer, she takes me to the bath room and washes my knees and then she applies a stinging yellow substance. It burns.

Then she pulls be towards her with both my arms. ‘Nomi you are almost four now, When are you ever going to stop running so hard?’

My next memory is that I am in an ambulance, riding along with Ammi. ‘Where are we going?' I ask. 'Why are we going there Ammi. Are you okay?’

‘Yes I am fine, Nomi and no more questions, do you understand?’

‘Yes Ammi’ I say and look out the window. The ambulance stops at a place; we call ‘Sick Bay’. Ammi gives me a hug a then says, ‘Today, Abdullah, the driver will take you will take you for a long ride all over Manorah.’ I ask her 'Where is Abu?  She says, 'Oh your dad is working and he will be here soon.'

I want to wait for Abu but then Abdullah says. 'Come on Babu, would you like to see a ‘Langri Butuck’ (Lame duck)?' I love ducks, how did he know. He is smiling and I trust him.

So off we go in the Naval Ambulance to do sightseeing of Manorah.

 My Abu is an Instructor in Pakistan Navy and wears a cool white uniform with black epaulets and golden stripes. I have learnt to say his name too, all of it. He is Lefty-net-kumander Jameel Akbar Mufti.

Ammi is a teacher in the girl’s school on the Naval Base.  She teaches for a few hours while Masee the maid keeps us company. I have an elder sister who is 6 and a younger brother who is very little and needs help with eating etc.

We have stopped driving now and Abdullah is finally going to show me the Langri Butuck. As we get off the ambulance, Abdullah says ’Ek Langri Butuck Ka Unda Aur Woh Bhi Gunda’ (A lame duck’s egg, and that too…bad). I roll over with laughter. He says the phrase again and tickles my tummy. Now I am laughing so hard that I am on the ground laughing. All my clothes are covered with dirt but I don’t care. I laugh and laugh.

On our way home we stop at the Sick Bay. Abu is there with Ammi and I see that on a cot there, is a little baby. Ammi says ‘Nomi you are now a big brother of younger sister and a younger brother.’ For a moment I feel big.

Abu asks Abdullah to take me home, where my other brother and sister are waiting.

On the radio they are playing my favorite song, ‘Aau Bachon’. I do not understand the words too much, but I love the music. Suddenly I start dancing, or so I think. I am jumping up and down and running as fast as I can and dodging the furniture and siblings. Life is good and I am in heaven.

Aau Bachon—Children, come… Aao baccho sair karayain tum ko Pakistan ki Jis ki khatir hum nay dee qurbani lakhoan jaan ki Pakistan Zindabad Pakistan Zindabad Children come, let’s take a tour of Pakistan For whom we sacrificed thousands of lives Pakistan Zindabad Pakistan Zindabad* Towards the East is Golden Bengal1 with greenery everywhere The Jute from here is worth its weight in Silver and Gold Pakistan Zindabad Pakistan Zindabad Here is our Punjab2, decorated with glorious Durbars3 Awakened by Iqbal4 with slogans of independence Pakistan Zindabad Pakistan Zindabad On the other side is Kashmir5 which reminds us of  Paradise And these are Ravi6 and Attock7 with waters pure as Amrit8 Pakistan Zindabad Pakistan Zindabad        * Long Live Pakistan. 1.        Former East Pakistan, very much part of Pakistan at the time of song 2.        Punjab, the largest province of Pakistan. Punjab means the ‘Land of Five Rivers’ 3.        Durbars, a reference to glorious Mughal architecture. Durbars were the royal courts at the time of Mughal rule. 4.        Allama Iqbal, from Lahore, Poet, Thinker, Philosopher, Galvanized the Muslims to seek their independence from the British. 5.        Kashmir. A beautiful land, to the north of the plains of Punjab 6.        Ravi. One of the five Punjab Rivers. Passes through Lahore. What Thames is to London, Ravi is to Lahore. 7.        Attock. Another river that flows through North West Frontier Province. 8.        A mythical substance is said to have health enhancing qualities.