What Life Looked Like With Family & Friends All Those Years Ago
Recalling the life events of a 90’s kid— the good and the bad
It’s June 2016
I’m lost. I’m okay, I tell myself. I know my friends will find me, or I’ll find them. We’re in the mountains. My phone isn’t working. I see some familiar faces. They’re not friends, but I stay close so they can lead me to my friends. Eventually, they all find me and can’t stop hugging me.
“We were so worried!! Are you okay?” one of them says, and I shrug it off.
I tell them, “It’s no big deal. We would have found each other sooner or later.”
I was so relieved that it was sooner rather than later. In the last few days, we have trekked together, went to all sorts of places, fed each other, kept each other safe and happy. We’ve become closer than family. And I’m so grateful.
It’s July 2019
My parents have been asking us to come down. They are both far away but I can see their annoyance and frustration — typical reactions when we refuse to listen to them.
My siblings are ahead of me. My brother shouts, “Saniya, are you coming?”
I’m not a huge fan of going uphill. But we’re doing this. We need to see that lake. We arrive, the color is somewhere between azure and sea green. It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen water of that color under that sky.
This place would look magnificent at night. I wish we could camp for the night. We don’t see anyone close by. It’s just the three of us in that space. We’ll go down soon, tell my parents all about it and why it was worth it.
When we planned this family trip, my father wasn’t sure if 2019 was the perfect time to go. He told me that we could always go next year. But I insisted, “No, we’re going now.”
It’s August 2020
Karachi is suffering from its worst rainfall in history.
We haven’t had electricity in the last 5 days. We don’t have water. We don’t have gas. We don’t have internet. There’s standing water outside our entire neighborhood so we can’t even use our cars to go anywhere.
It’s exhausting. There’s panic on social media. People need rescuing. There’s a comparison of struggle. Some people are enjoying our misery. I see comments like “Now the people of DHA will know what it feels like to suffer.” I sigh. People blame the government. We have memes circulating. It’s okay. Humor helps.
I’m sick of the word resilience.
My friends ask me if I need them to send food. I tell them that we will manage. I forbid them to come to DHA at this point. I wouldn’t wish it on an enemy. But we have to keep going in the hope that it will get better. It does, eventually.
It’s September 2001
My school began a month ago but this year already feels like it’s going to be a tough one. I have so much homework. I’m not sure if I like my classmates very much. I like my English teacher only. I’m observing the rest of the teachers closely before I form an opinion.
I have two Dux erasers this time so that’s good.
We’re spending the weekend at my grandparents’ house. My cousin has been the family genius so far. She is three years older than me. When she tells me it is getting harder for her to cope up now with everything, I believe her. I compare our struggles. But I decide to not tell her that I’m struggling in Grade 3. What will she think of me? I start to worry a little about Grade 6.
There’s some hope. At least, we’ll get to use ink pens.
It’s October 2015
I take a drop at a friend’s place. Today was exhausting. We’ve both come back from university and are now starting to hate the commute and our courses this semester. We lie down. And talk about everyone else at university. We talk about boys. We talk about the future. We talk about society. We make lame jokes, mostly because we’re so tired. I have fresh daal with roti and some sabzi.
It’s so mundane. But it’s perfect.
We’re soon craving samosas. There’s a samosa shop below her apartment. My friend has an idea. She puts money in a basket, attaches the basket to a rope, and pushes the basket outside her room’s window. She asks the shopkeeper to put samosas inside the basket in exchange for the money. And soon she pulls the basket upwards.
This girl is so strange but I can’t imagine my university life without her.
It’s November 2020
I can’t believe I’m in Turkey with two of my favorite girls.
We’ve promised our families that we will be extra careful. We have to be. It’s COVID. The last few days have been a dream. If someone asks me the best part about being here, I would tell them the truth; it’s liberty. It’s not a very interesting answer. But right now, I’m roaming around at 2 a.m. without a care in the world.
No one’s coming to judge me. No one’s coming to harass me. No one’s going to snatch my phone.
I feel free, more than I’ve felt in a long time.
Of course, it’s not easy. We mess up. We get sick. We get hurt also. But here we are, three fully functioning adults adulting. We’re managing everything that comes our way. We’re taking such good care of each other. And we’re having fun.
I realize again that women can do anything they put their minds to.
It’s December 2016
The wedding season is here. And so is exam season! I’m juggling between finals and attending events. Sometimes, I feel like a headless chicken. Tomorrow, I have an Advanced Differential Equations exam. But today’s the main event. I must go. I’m not going to the salon to get ready.
There’s no time.
I ask my sister to help with the hair and makeup. She’s an expert. And she’ll do it for free. She does everything in an hour. I put on the clothes. She pairs them with the right shoes and jewelry. She ends up saving my life for the 247th time before an event.
I don’t know what I will do without my sister.
It’s January 2015
Lahore is beautiful at this time. My cousin just got married at Badshahi Mosque. And I’ve already started planning a hypothetical wedding here. We’re at Cuckoo’s Den. The view is beautiful and there is finally some good food. Suddenly, I hear my aunt. She’s talking to me. She tells me to find an eligible boy in university.
I look at her, not sure why she said what she said. I’m surprised that I don’t mind what she said. It doesn’t sound like unsolicited advice, maybe it’s how she said it. For a few seconds, she has taken the role of a friend. Then she repeats what she said. She reinforces her point, tells me she’s right and I ought to believe her. I’m amused but I understand where she’s coming from. I tell her, “Jee, sure.”
It’s February 2020
It’s a workday. A new girl has joined work recently. There’s something about her. I just know we’ll be friends.
With colleagues, there is always some speculation. The interactions are guarded, even with the friendly ones. I think we all test our colleagues before we can consider them trustworthy. Friendship is far down the line.
But with this girl, I interact quite regularly and with such genuineness. I realize how natural everything seems. I decide I like her mostly because she’s calm and minds her own business. We talk, and talk, and talk. It’s been a few days only, but now we’re good friends.
It’s March 2010
Debating is becoming popular again and I keep hearing about the Model United Nations. I’m not sure what those are though. I don’t think anyone knows, even the ones who claim to. I want to take part in a debate competition. Soon an opportunity strikes.
It’s quite spontaneous. I hear a teacher talk about it. I am not her student. But I walk into the staff room to inquire about details. Soon enough, I’m a contestant and it’s becoming common knowledge. I’m excited but also anxious. I’ve not done this in front of hundreds of people. So I can use all the support. I hear rumors about being discussed over lunch by some girls in my class.
They mock me because they don’t think I have what it takes.
Later that day, a friend calls me on my landline. She asks me how I feel about the debate. I tell her I’m not sure. We discuss what the other girls had said. She’s frustrated with me. She gives me a piece of advice, something I knew, but I needed to hear it from a friend.
She says, “Saniya, are you seriously going to let what people think stop you? You’re so close. And you’re good.” And just like that, I start to feel much better.
I practice my speech more times than I can count. I have now perfected it. I get a good night’s sleep. And the next day, I give a mind-blowing performance.
It’s April 2018
We are all supposed to gather at a friend’s place today, 8 to 10 girls. I can’t wait to join all of them. None of us have met since graduation.
There is also another reason. For the past 6 months, I’ve been working on my body. I’m a believer now. Strength training is officially better than cardio. And kettlebells are much more fun than dumbbells. I look at my face. Is there a possibility of a jawline scuffling to come out? It seems so.
I take a drop at a friend’s place and we go together. It’s going to be a good day. Once we arrive, it’s everything I expected.
We are all so happy, done with university, transitioning into the real world. There’s good food and so many stories to tell.
My friends ask me, “Saniya, what are you doing? You look amazing!” It worked. People have now started to notice. I go into the details, so proud of myself. Those 8 a.m. classes are now worth it.
It’s May 2021
What a year so far, right? In many ways, it’s better than 2020. But I feel we might have jinxed it.
I work in the health sector now. Half the time I listen to information and statistics related to Corona. COVID has seeped into every part of our lives.
My friend tells me she’s scared that her child won’t get to live life normally. My boss tells me the situation in Pakistan is expected to get worse. We’re not much better than India, to be honest. I am scared something bad is going to happen.
It’s like we’re living off crumbs of peace. And even those will be snatched away.
People don’t care. It’s exhausting. I confront someone who recently visited Quetta.
I ask, “Were people wearing masks?”
He replies, “No masks. People in Quetta eat lamb. They’re strong.”
And I regret asking.
May is usually a little difficult. I lost my nani (paternal grandmother) in May, three years ago. That has been a deep loss that I will feel throughout my life. My genius cousin from Grade 6 is now a doctor who works in the emergency ward. I wonder if she has become immune to all of this.
I wonder what the purpose of anything is if you don’t have people to celebrate with you. Anyone can be affected despite getting vaccinated. Now we have new strains. This virus is mutating every other day.
I wonder if we can survive this. I pray that we do.
There’s so much to live for, so many moments to create with the people we love. Maybe tomorrow when I wake up, this won’t be real. But for now, I choose to hold on to hope.
