Behenchara

The Rantings Of a Desi Feminist

The quarantine is going great yaaroun. I get to cross things out of my to-do list every day, like “wake up” “don’t take a shower” “stay hydrated” “cry” etc, etc. You know the drill. Barra mazaaydaar time hai, kuch samajh mai hi nai ah raha tha initially. The world as we know it had come to a standstill and I didn’t know how to feel about it because…what in the world??? Our parents never prepared us for this! Degrees toh ham nai li liye hain, ghar kai kaam bhi ah gaye hain, heck, yai bhi patah hai kai India aur Pakistan ka jhang ho jaye toh karna kya hai.

Day 5 of quarantine and I got my period, yum. I’m one of those girls, you know, wohi, polycystic ovaries waali, needs brufen to function when lucifers bloody waterfall hits. Yeah, but in the grand scheme of all things there awaited a bigger plan where I couldn’t take, glorious, majestic, brufen because “CORONA VIRUS, CORONA VIRUS” (tell me you read that in Cardi B’s voice) so there I was, cramped up on the floor, unable to move and filing numerous complaints over and over again with god. Everything made sense tho, barra rona ah raha tha, the days prior to my uterus lining shedding. I was able to breathe again, sukar adaa kiya kai oh phir sai depression toh nahi ho gayi. That got me thinking a lot tho about women and hormones and how hello, we talk about battling mental illness and “don’t let ur emotions control u, allow urself to control ur emotions oOOooO” yah. No. How is that gonna work when my emotions are a direct reaction of some voodoo hormonal shizz going on inside of me??

Before I go on, let me just state, I am not a phycologist or any other fancy doctor name, nai. This is just my thought process so don’t come at me, or do..idc. If I can get through period cramps, I can get through anything, aw yis.

Thus I lay, a sorry heap, pretty sure that I was dying, that there was no way on earth I would be able to make it through, when my lovely dad called for me “beta, zara juice toh pila doh” ( abhi tak ramad/zan ka chand ka roshan chehra nazar nahi aya hua tha) and surprisingly I found myself able to grit my teeth through the pain, get up and get my dad some OJ . Erm, body, what? Are u okay? Pehlay dramay kar rahi thi? How are you doing this? Seriously, we don’t give ourselves enough credit. Matlab, already nobody gives us enough credit, hah! Thora sa apnay aap ko hi dai laite hain.

Something I’ve definitely realized this quarantine is, women must give themselves everything, credit, pyaar, hosla, orgasms haha! Kitna pyaara moshara hai hamara. I’ve thought a lot about us, if we’re working out or not. This toxic relationship I’m in with my beautiful Lahore. You see, I love Lahore, more than I can ever express. It’s becoming more and more like what I had with this AC boy I liked. Pyaar bohat tha magar could never really call him mine, yes, I was young, naïve and not aware of what I deserved. I tended to mold my world for the boys I liked instead of for what I wanted, but it’s ok. Koi nai. Sabakh seekh liya hai mainay. Barri ho gayi hoon ab toh. Point being though, Lahore isn’t really ours, is it? We’re claiming places back and lord oh lord, am I proud of us. I mean, Aurat March! Amirite???? These things get me excited, we’re getting somewhere, we strong women, us! But then, there’s the magnificent creature that is, the mullah. Uff. Can’t even type this out without clenching my fists and having veins in my temple throb. Aapas ki baat hai, magar is kisam ki harkatoun nai mujhay kaafi andar sai maar diya hai. How are we supposed to heal mentally and overcome everday emotional burdens when we’re dealt with these amazing cards time and time again. Wow. Beaut.

Phir, ofc, there’s that old adage that our beloved people love to throw at us, “itna masla hai toh iSl@miC R3pUbl!c of Pakistan ko chor do” what???? There’s so much more to talk about, I’m not even scratching the surface abhi. Whirlwind of thoughts and emotions are flying at me har taraf sai. What always scares me though, is, I’m privileged and I have so much to write home about feminism. My blood curdles when I think about the less privileged or the not at all privileged.

I just want to be able to call Pakistan & Lahore, mine. I want to feel loved back by them. I’m not used to being in a one way relationship anymore, that kid that fell in love with the AC boy, she dealt with her daddy issues. She made a lot of emotional progress, licked her childhood traumas wound and came out a gladiator! So here’s the thing guys, this is one relationship we’re not giving up on. Kar lo jo karna hai. Baaki marzi hai, Allah malik.

Sending all my sistahs & brothas dhair saara pyaar and duaain. Ramad/zan Mubarak!

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