From Manora to Kemari to Nilofer Mansion, Nazimabad Karachi. 1964.

Manora had been an adventure. We’d boarded a Navy boat, less than an hour ride to mainland Karachi. Our things, though, had taken the long way around, over a land route taking several hours. The boat took us to Kemari, the seaport of Karachi. From there we boarded a Taxi to our new home in Nazimabad. Our new house in Karachi was called 'Nilofer Mansion,' though it wasn't a mansion by any stretch of the imagination. Still, it felt grand to me. It was a two-story house, and our family claimed the entire top floor: three bedrooms, a drawing room, and a kitchen. But my favorite parts were definitely the rooftop, open to the vast Karachi sky, and our little balcony. A magnificent Gulmohar tree reached up from the ground, its branches sprawling across our side of the balcony like a green curtain, giving us the best kind of privacy. Its flowers were a burst of red-orange petals with a sunny yellow base, and if you looked closely, tiny filaments poked out from the center, each with a single, delicate pollen at the end.

My older sister and I had a special game we played with these flowers, which we called 'Murghay Larana'—literally 'fighting roosters.' We’d each carefully pluck a filament, holding it like a tiny sword, the single pollen dangling like a precious jewel. The goal was to deftly knock off your opponent's pollen while protecting your own. We’d giggle and grunt in conLeavingcentration, tiny warriors on the balcony. Afterwards, we'd nibble on the yellow base of the petals – it was deliciously tart and tangy. No wonder we simply called the flower 'Murgah Phool.' My sister was strong and fearless, always climbing trees. One afternoon, I peered over the balcony and saw her doing something truly daring: she was using the 'Murgah Tree' to climb down to our neighbor's house! My heart thumped. It looked so dangerous. I immediately made her promise not to do it again, swearing I wouldn't tell Ammi as long as she didn’t climb that tree again. She promised, and to my relief, I never saw her attempt that risky descent again

My Earliest Memories (Summer of 1963)

One of the earliest memories of my childhood come to my mind as scattered images. I was running as fast as my legs could carry me on black-top parade ground. Suddenly, I took a trip and fell. Both my knees get scraped. It hurt a little, but I was used to it; scraped knees were just part of running fast. I limped home, trying to hide my bleeding knees from Ammi. 'Ammi!' I called. 'Nomi,' she called back, her voice already holding that 'I know what happened' tone. She'd been watching me from the window all along. ‘Nomi, how many times have I told you not to run so hard?’ She didn't wait for an answer, her eyes already fixed on my scrapes. She took me to the bathroom, washed my knees, and then dabbed on that stinging yellow stuff. It burned! She gently pulled me close, holding my arms. ‘Nomi, you're four now. When are you ever going to stop running so hard?’ The parade ground of that of PNS Rahbar Naval Base off the coast of Manora, an islet near Karachi, Pakistan. where the salty air from the coast always carried the faint scent of the sea. This was the first place where I first became aware of my surroundings. I was four years old and do not remember having a friend to play with. My next memory was being in an ambulance, riding along with Ammi. ‘Where are we going?' I asked. 'To the Sick Bay,’ she replied. Why are we going there, Ammi? Are you okay?’ ‘Yes, I'm fine, Nomi, and no more questions, do you understand?’ ‘Yes, Ammi,’ I said, and looked out the window a little confused as to why Ammi was telling me why we were going in an ambulance when Ammi did not seem to be sick. The ambulance stopped at a place we call ‘Sick Bay’, It is the only medical facility in this Naval base. Ammi gave me a hug and then said, ‘Today, Abdullah, the driver, will take you for a long ride all over Manr.’ I asked her, 'Where is Abu?' She said, 'Oh, your dad is working, and he will be here soon.' I wanted to wait for Abu, but then Abdullah said, 'Come on, Babu, would you like to see a ‘Langri Butuck’ (Lame duck)?' I loved ducks! How did he know? He was smiling, and I trusted him. So off we went in the Naval Ambulance to do sightseeing of Manora My Abu is an Instructor in the Pakistan Navy and wears a cool white uniform with black epaulets and golden stripes. I had even learned to say his whole name: 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 six, and a younger brother who is very little and can not play with me yet. We stopped driving. Abdullah was finally going to show me the Langri Butuck! As we got off the ambulance, Abdullah said, ’Ek Langri Butuck Ka Unda Aur Woh Bhi Gunda’ (A lame duck’s egg, and that too…bad). I rolled over, laughing! He said the phrase again, tickling my tummy, and I collapsed onto the dirt, laughing so hard my clothes were covered. I didn't care. I just laughed and laughed. On our way home, we stopped at the Sick Bay again. Abu was there with Ammi, and on a cot, there was a tiny baby. Ammi smiled. ‘Nomi, you are now a big brother of a younger sister and a younger brother!’ For a moment, I stood there, feeling huge. Like a real grown-up now, with even more little ones to watch over. Abu asked Abdullah to take me home, where my other brother and sister were waiting. When I reached home, they were playing my favorite song, ‘Aau Bachons air karaen tumko Pakistani ki’. I didn't understand the words too much, but I loved the music. Suddenly, I started dancing—or so I thought! I was jumping up and down, running as fast as I could, dodging the furniture and my siblings. Life was good, and I was in heaven.