We were once visited by Aunt Mala, our garrulous aunt, who stayed with her family in Warsaw, Poland. Aunt Mala, along with Uncle Din and their only daughter, Tasha, made a sojourn to our house in a particular month in 1994. I could never remember what had actually happened during their visit, but taking a glance at several pictures in my album, I could see a picture of myself standing amidst Aunt Mala and Tasha, with an almost – want – to – cry face. During their presence, we had already had a new household; my smallest sister, Hajira. From an old picture, Uncle Din was hugging her by the fireplace.
I heard from my mother that Hajira was not her actual name my parents intended to give. They initially preferred Hajar or Hajr, which means ‘stone’ in Arabic. But then, one day, my Mum, along with Hajira went to a Pakistani’s house for Ta’lim (I would describe this term later). The Pakistanis there asked her name. ‘It’s not nice. Not suitable! Hajira? No, no. Hajrah, Hajrah. Yes, that’s better. You should call her Hajrah.’ One of them suggested. For some time, Umi pondered about it and back home she highlighted the matter to my father. At last, they come to a decisive appellation; an amalgamation of the initial name and the one proposed by the Pakistanis: Hajar + Hajrah = Hajira.
No comments:
Post a Comment