Happy Mother's Day

One summer evening, more than three decades ago, in the city of Karachi, a baby girl was born. Little did she know what a supportive tribe of storytellers she had entered. 
Her Dadda (Dad's mum) was the best storyteller of all! Fed a healthy diet of assorted tales, the girl's mind grew active and lively. She devoured the stories of day-o's (giants) and shehzadis (princesses), mores and morenis (peacocks and peahens), podnas and podnis (sparrows), rajahs (kings) and kisaans (farmers). This was a magical world she visited with Dadda - and never wanted to leave.

With passing years, pangs of boredom gnawed at her gut. Read this, her Ammi (mum) would say, thrusting a book in her hand. And the magical world returned. This became a dance that Ammi and beti (daughter) engaged in regularly. 

'I'm bored!'

'Here, read this.'

Things got so bad that the Ammi had to resort to saying, 'No, don't read that! Not that! Not that either! Read YOUR books, not mine!' But it was too late. The reading bug had infected the girl and she consumed everything in her path. She gobbled up every book in the little primary school library, every written word in their Industrial Area home in Sharjah, yet she wanted more. Her thirst for stories, for books, for the written word, was never ending.

She consumed so much that one day, she began emitting her own written word. It was like a sickness that wouldn't stop. It controlled her, not her it, as everyone close to her was quick to point out. 

Then one day, she met a wise enchantress. This enchantress showed her a secret door inside her heart - and once this girl went through that door, she was never seen again.

But she did send little presents to the world - little birds with pages for wings, would often carry her message of love to the rest of the world.

One day, the girl emerged and saw that the world had changed. Her Dadda no longer lived. Her Ammi had returned to her Creator. The girl cried. How happy they would have been, to see one of my birds, she thought.
But when she looked up, she saw a veritable army of well-wishers: Dad, brother, husband, daughters, friends, cousins, Khalas (maternal aunties), Mamoos (maternal uncles) and so many more people she had been blessed with meeting. 

Hope restored, she went back inside, sending out a single missive: Happy Mother's Day!