I did not get any sleep last night, eating just before going to bed has that effect on me. Also the A/C was on on full whack and I was freezing. I kept getting up every hour to leave the room but the rest of the house was far too hot to be able to stay out of the bedroom for too long, so it was a case of tooing and froing all night. Finally around 7.30 I got of to sleep and was woken up around 12.00 by Sharjeel yanking my foot. It’s Arshad on the phone for you he says as I pull out my earplugs which have been a source of much amusement within the family. I usually have them in all day as well as night as the TV is always on so loud. Answering the phone Arshad checks to see if I have my ticket and if I have managed to get my weight allowance increased. I have I reply but something concerns me, the extra allowance is listed as 1.0kg, I do not know if that is a typing error or their ode for 10kg allowance but it worries me somewhat. Arshad urges me to phone Rizwan and to check and when I do he puts my mind at rest, you will get through he assures me but as always I still fret about it and will continue to until I have finally checked my luggage in.

Next up I grab a shower and tell Samra we will go to the local bazaar at 4.00 which gives me an hour and a half to fit in the guys upstairs. I need to tell them I will not be joining them for dinner so have tea with them instead. As I mentioned last year the woman upstairs and Samra do not get on. Last year there was one of them, the wife of Irfan’s youngest brother, this year she is joined by the wife of the 2nd youngest brother as well (Irfan is the eldest of 4 boys). The wives are not just sister-in-laws to each other they are also aunt and niece. Sunny, the younger one is also my niece while the older one is the her mum’s sister and my cousin through my dad’s older brother, yes it’s complicated everyone in this house is not only related through marriage but also through blood, it makes my skin crawl just thinking about it. My family on both my mother and father’s side is just so big that I could not fit all of them in even if I stayed her for a year so made the conscious decision of visiting no one and them upstairs do not seem to like that. The whole meeting is dotted with snide comments which I choose to ignore as I do not want to start an argument and besides I doubt I will ever see these women again what they think or say means nothing to me. If I say anything it will come back on Samra that she poisoned my mind against them and I really do not want to leave her with shit to clean up so bite my tongue and just smile pretending I don’t know the real meaning behind their barbs. Another reason I stay away from family, I’m not into the family politics, hate it and besides they don’t seem to be a fan of my bluntness, what I see as the truth they see as being rude. I finally manage to escape at 4.00 to find Samra still not ready so decide to something totally out of character and wait patiently for the next half an hour while she gets ready.

I need to buy some rope to tie my boxes with and end up purchasing 3 pairs of sandals which Samra buys for me as my going away gift, none of them are more then 150 per pair and she keeps urging me to buy more, this is not enough as a gift she keeps repeating. You putting me up twice is more then enough I tell her and then make an excuse about the amount of weight I already have to stop her trying to buy more stuff for me. I would have preferred to buy a few more pairs of the expensive shoes but I can’t, I can’t knowing she will insist on paying for them so call it a day as she keeps trying to force bangles on me. Believe me Samra I have more then enough I tell her besides most of the good stuff here comes from India and I did most of my shopping in India for half the price it is here. I probably would have bought more stuff if she hadn’t insisting on paying so maybe it is a good thing that she is. We are back home within the hour and just sit around talking until 6.30 when the whole lot of us pile into the car and drive to Defence, the posh part of Lahore for dinner. I wanted to go to Food Street but was overruled as the boys all wanted to go to Pizza and Pasta so it as easier to just give in and agree. With Sharjeel driving like the stupid maniac he becomes when he gets behind a wheel we get to the restaurant with minutes to spare before the fast is broken and everyone is given a small plate of snacks and a drink on the house.

Once everyone has broken their fast the waiters bring round the menu, Sharjeel gets one, Yalmaaz gets one even little Shumail gets one, the only two people on the table who do not get one is Samra and me well that is until I send the waiter back to get two more much to Sharjeel’s disgust and as soon as the menu’s are in our hands Sharjeel and I are at loggerheads as I tell the waiter to come talk to me not him. I am getting sick of Pakistani men ignoring me, I find it all so hypocritical how they seem to ignore you when you are with another male but find their hands wandering to your ass if you are not. No wonder everyone prays for a baby boy, having a male with you makes all the difference. Sharjeel does not seem to share my opinion and think I have a problem with them for no particular reason and launches into the whole debate of my bad attitude towards Pakistani men. I am not going to change my mind I reply, nearly 2 years of travelling I tell him and so many Asian countries, which country do you think I get groped in? Pakistan? He says wearily. Yes Pakistan, now you tell me why I should change my mind about Pakistani men. Yes I have got chatted up forcibly by other men in other countries and told I need to have more sex with the local men but no one has ever physically grabbed parts of my body and groped me.

Both Sharjeel and Samra are shocked to hear this as I have not told them before, there was no point. You should have said something he replies. I did to the policeman at the bombsite we went to but he didn’t do anything and what could you have done? Even I did not know which of the wankers it was, what would you have done, fight with all of them? We continue arguing until the waiter returns and I tell him to come to me as I will be placing the order, again much to the annoyance of Sharjeel. What pisses me off is when the waiter returns he goes straight to Sharjeel to ask if we want cheese on the garlic bread that I ordered, Sharjeel just looks at me and I put the question to the table to see what they prefer. Cheese Sharjeel tells him as he starts to gloat me into another argument. So why did you not reply to him he starts, why did you ask me? I didn’t ask you to reply on my behalf I tell him, in a civilised country we ask everyone and the majority rules, I was throwing the question open to see who wanted what, I asked for your opinion not for you to be my spokesperson, it’s what we do in the west when we go out for dinner in a group, it’s polite. I do not need for you to speak for me, I can do that perfectly well for myself and we continue bickering until the food arrives.

Grabbing the spatula Sharjeel starts hacking away at the pizza making a dogs dinner out of it. Stop it I tell him, give it to me I say trying to get the pizza cutter of off him, you are making a complete mess of it it’s pre-cut you only need to serve it and thus starts a battle of wills. Neither of us will let go of the server while Samra tries to come to a compromise. Listen, I’m the host I’ll serve I tell him which leads to him throwing in the towel and stomping out. Samra tries to stop him but he ignores her and walks out as his brothers just look on. Yalmaaz go get his Samra instructs her second born. No don’t send him I reply, you know what he is like he is going to take out all his anger on Yalmaaz and just lay into him and Yalmaaz agrees with me. He always does things like this and ruins out days out he ends, just leave him. But Samra being Samra she can’t eat until she has brought him back to the table and leaves to go finds him as the rest of us tuck in. she eventually locates him and placates him enough to bring him back to the table but not enough to get him to eat. I really couldn’t give a shit if he eats or not but clearly it is disturbing Samra and I don’t want to ruin it for her, she hardly gets to go out. I’m sorry if I upset you I start, can you please just eat and stop sulking. No he replies, you keep throwing it in my face that you are paying for our dinner. What? It’s nothing of the sort I reply; you are being far too over-sensitive. I just stated the fact that I was the host so I would serve; you were making a mess of the whole thing. I would have done the same thing if you had come over to mine for dinner. Don’t you just sit at home and let your mum serve you, so what’s the difference? You never serve yourself or anyone else at home so why are you insisting in doing it here? You just have a problem with me and that I will not let you be the big man that you like acting in public. We continue bickering and I can se the distress it is causing Samra so tell him I just want to keep the peace, you eating or not does nor make the slightest bit of difference to me, the food has been ordered and it will be paid for regardless of if he eats or not so if he wants to cut his nose to spite his face then he is more then welcome to do so, the rest of us will still eat and he will be the only one missing out.

We continue squabbling until finally Samra pipes up, stop this talking now, no more arguments, shut up she ends says as she ends her speech which stops both me and Sharjeel in our tracks as I just burst out laughing, it’s the first time I have ever heard her speak English. I never knew she could. As she repeats herself I continue giggling and even Sharjeel manages to crack a smile. Shut up and eat, stop the talking she says again now that she is in full flow and has our attention and you know what, we actually do as she says as she turns to me and asks me if that was the correct use of English. Did I say it right? She asks as I continue to giggle into my pizza slice. It’s at that moment I stop seeing her as a doormat of a wife or mother and am in total awe of her. She has brought her kids up single headedly as her husband spends most of his time abroad living the life of a bachelor and even when he is in Pakistan he never has much time for her. She looked after her parent-in-laws on her own right up to when they died after a long illness and puts up from the crap her sister-in-laws give her without saying a word in return. She is not a weak wife and mother, she is an incredibly strong woman to be able to put up with all the shit that gets thrown her way and still be as happy and content with life as she is, I would have cracked ages ago. My emotions turn from pity to admiration with just one sentence uttered by her. She does not need my pity or anyone else’s and I think Sharjeel kind of understands that as well as he also shuts up and starts eating and we call it a truce. Paying up it cost me 980 rupees for a 1.5 litre bottle of coke, 2 huge pizzas and 2 plates of garlic bread, that’s around 7.50 for a meal for the 5 of us. On the way home we stop for dessert, faluda which adds another 200 to the bill but it’s worth every penny, it’s just a same I’m too full to finish it so give it to one of the boys to finish.

Sharjeel is of out with a couple of friends tonight to go see Pappu Sain, the dhol deaf dhol player we went to see last time I was here and asks me if I want to come along. I would love to go see him again but I can’t put up with Sharjeel on my own any longer, I can’t spend any more time in his company without wanting to smack him one in the face. Also I just can’t go through the stares I get being most probably the only female there. No I am going to stay with your mum I tell him, you go but be back by 2.00, that’s the latest I can leave for the airport and he agrees after much discussion on the subject, why can things not be simple everything turns into a drama or arguement. Well it’s not the latest I can leave but being used to Pakistani timings it will probably be 2.30 before everyone gets their shit together.

Returning home I’m checking my emails when Samra pops her head in the door to let me know she is just popping over to her mothers as she is in quite a bit of pain and can she borrow some on my tiger balm, it might help with the pain. Keep the bottle I tell her handing it over, I think I’ve bought quite a bit and ask if I can come with her to say my byes. There seems to a bit of confusion over who is taking the car, Sharjeel wanted it to go out with his friends so Yalmaaz is taking Samra on the bike so looks like I can’t go. Oh, just let her know I said bye I tell Samra as I go back to my emails only for her to return 5 minutes later to tell me they have the car so I can come along. What happened? I ask as I grab my bag, I thought Sharjeel was taking the car. Oh he and his friends have just had an argument and they have cancelled. As we leave the lot of them are out there still arguing, apparently Sharjeel threw a glass of water straight in one of the other guy’s face after arguing about something or the other. See that’s what happens when you marry a first cousin, mad kids. I’ve not even bothered checking for webbed toes.

From 10.00 to 1.00 we sit and chat at Samra’s mothers and the topic of conversation turns to my father, aunty and dad were very close and she gets one of the kids to get out her photo album, in there are two photos that my dad sent of himself when he first moved to England. I hardly have any photos of my father so I ask Yalmaaz if he could scan them in for me and email them. Keep them aunty says handing them over to me and them promptly changes her mind. One of them has a tear down the middle, that’s the one she wants to keep. Tell you what I start, let me take them to England and I’ll get them fixed by a specialist, they can scan them in and repair the face where the tear is and I’m send you both the old and a new copy. This is enough to finally let her part with them as I promise I will send them back. I’m emotional enough having to leave tonight but seeing these picture kinds of tips me over the edge and I try to hide my tears from the others. I still miss him, it’s only at times like these that I realise how much. It’s true; you never appreciate what you have until it’s gone. I wish I could have been open a lot more emotionally with him when I had the chance but we were never the huggy sort of family. The only time I can remember hugging my father is when I would return from my long holidays and I remember the last time I gave him a hug, the day he returned from Pakistan in 1999 just after he had had his first stroke. It’s the first time I saw the man that was built like a brick shithouse look frail and helpless.