Bullying and Hurt

Walking down the vacant corridors of my college, my heart was sinking with the horrible feeling of all that had happened today; the derogatory attitudes, the whispered insults and the random shove all seemed to be weighing down on me, and I couldn't help but allow a few tears to flow down. Not here, not in college.

Wincing at the reminder how I hadn't even tried standing up for myself, I lazily managed to walk out of the college gates and fidgeted at the sight of my cousin, Sarah, standing near the door. She seemed to be scrolling down her mobile screen. Having no choice but to walk up to her, I quickly wiped my tears and hesitantly began heading towards her. I had to prepare myself for the insults. 

Sarah was my extremely bright cousin who was two grades ahead of me. She was a topper in her class and was adored by everyone. Unlike me, she had loads of friends and was considered the pride of her family. However, what rarely anyone back at home knew was that Sarah had gained some of her popularity by joining the popular crew and tormenting the loner, weak girl of college: me. 

With subtle snickers thrown my ways, emotional torture, belittling and degradation, she and her friends had caused my self-esteem to fall down the ropes, and there was nothing I could do about it which hurt. I couldn't say or do anything about the emotional insults because deep down, I was weak. I believed that I was a weak, shy and awkward girl who could hardly manage to get passing grades.

Also, Sarah's father was my dad's extremely rich brother who had made sure that his only daughter was treated a rather gentle manner, so informing anyone that Sarah's ways would be just futile. And besides, I had decided to just let go of the matter, anyways. 

I had already chosen to be patient.

That was the key, always.

Patience and trusting the Almighty is the key. 

Now trying to keep my emotions in the bay, I quietly walked and moved to stand next to my cousin. Without even acknowledging me, she seemed remained busy on her mobile. I tried not to bother her, to take her attitude in a good-natured way, but it was just too hard.

When young, Sarah and I used to be extremely good friends. She was just like my older sister, given our two-year gap, and we had enjoyed loads of lunches together. However, after her father, Uncle Salman, made some heavy investments, resulting in his social status to start aiming for the skies, Sarah just changed. She was no longer a quiet and responsible daughter of a widowed father; instead, she was a loud and popular girl who was fully aware of her social status. 

 At every house function, she won't invite me because she 'apparently' didn't want me to become a burden on her father's wealth. I was actually happy about that. I didn't like wasting my time in worldly attractions. I liked reading good books. Belonging from a Muslim family, I was always encouraged to be a devote by my parents. 

Anyhow, at every shopping plan, Sarah would purposely mock my choices because she didn’t consider my wallet pockets good enough.

I had observed this change in her behaviour also had something to do with her way of punishing others for everything she had faced in the past. She used to be a reserved girl, who only got pitied by many. I guess this was her way of lashing out, and for that, I felt sympathetic and considerate. I knew she was a lonely girl; missing her mother. Her insults had some suppressed emotions and pain hiding in them, which made me realize that she was hurting, too. But, there was just no way to reach this girl and show her that she was ruining her own life by doing this. I might be able to forgive her in time, but her words might leave scars on so many.

Watching Sarah finally put her phone away, I stiffed as she turned towards me.

"Call Uncle and tell him that we have been waiting for hours. I am tired of standing," she ordered, making me immediately nod. The torment had made me feel like wanting to gain her approval, always.

"Okay." Quickly dialling my father's number, I called him while impatiently tapped one foot against the rough gravel.

Papa, pick up!

"Mehreen," he finally answered, with the sound of car horns echoing from behind him.

"Papa, where are you? Sarah and I are free." I asked, making him immediately apologize.

"Sorry, I am just around the corner. I will be there in five minutes." He assured and then cut the call. Sarah was looking at me, expectantly.

"Well?" She raised an eyebrow at me.

"P-Papa is just around the corner. He will be here in five minutes," I nervously informed, making Sarah nod and look away. I couldn't help but suppress my anger.

Today, she had 'accidentally' shoved past me, snickered with her friends when I had slipped in the cafeteria, and sardonically whispered in her friend's ear when I had tried confronting her friend for hiding my pink diary. It had been extremely hurtful, but I knew I had to be patient. Sarah was simply a bitter person, yearning for help in a wrong, self-destructive way.

I had to give her time.

Soon, Papa's car arrived, and she and I walked to sit in the backseat of the car. Sarah was coming to my place today because my parents had been missing her. Ever since my elder sister 'Mariyam' had got married and moved to Dubai with her husband, my parents were feeling extra sensitive and reminiscing about the old times. They were looking forward to some family bonding, and I couldn't help but feel a bit hurt by this.

I wanted my parents to side with me in this feeling of pain and humiliation. I wanted them to hear my silent cry, which was actually an absurd demand of mine because I had always been so good at faking happiness and denying my pain that it was ludicrous to expect anyone to hear my cry.

I couldn’t really expect my parents to understand because they had always been so soft and pure at heart. They would never be able to comprehend the thought of my cousin bullying me. 

My mama was the traditional and friendly mother who reprimanded her children from ever losing their manners. She had her own bakery shop which my papa ran for her. She was so soft and caring that, sometimes, I got frustrated by how she would not even bother about her own health while spending tedious hours in the kitchen to prepare food for the poor families living in our neighbourhood, but I knew that she was doing a good deed. It is our job to help the poor, take care of our neighbours. 

My papa, on the other hand, was a reserved man. He valued the worth of words and spoke less. He was extremely hard working and genuinely a good person, so this was one of the reasons I found it hard to tell any of my parents how tough things were at college. I didn't want to show tell them about how many facades were in this world and hurt them.

Having papa now conversationally ask Sarah about Uncle Salman’s health, I stayed quiet and kept my grip tightened around my handbag. I was using it as a support.

"Mehreen," he finally spoke to me. "Your mama wants you, girls, to be dropped off at her bakery. Is that fine?" His gaze met mine through the rearview mirror.

"Of course," I nodded. I don't know why but talking in front of Sarah always made me feel nervous and vulnerable. It would seem like she was judging each and every one of my actions.

Soon, after having the car parked in front of mama's closed bakery shop, Sarah and I quickly got out of the car.

Walking inside, I saw her uncomfortably gaze around at the empty tables surrounding us, while I sighed in acceptance. Her judging looks weren’t wrong. 

The business had been down for so long.

Looking around for my mother, Sarah lazily sat down on one of the tables. Mama finally appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands dry with a red handkerchief. She grinned widely upon seeing us and quickly placed the handkerchief on the counter.

"My daughters are here!" She cooed warmly and decided to hug Sarah first. My mother loved giving hugs.

"How are you, aunt?" Sarah returned back her hug. I couldn't detect if that greeting was fake. In front of others, the old Sarah would often emerge, which made it that much hard to prove she had changed. She had put up a good façade.

"Fine. My dear, you have paid us a visit after such a long time. How are your studies going?" Mama finally pulled away from Sarah and held on to her shoulders.

"They are going good. She proudly announced, making me wince.

"That's wonderful." Mama nodded and turned towards me.

"And how was your day?" She smiled, making me shrug.

"I managed," I spoke, unconsciously meeting Sarah's gaze. She immediately looked away.

"Managed?" A frown appeared on mama’s face. "You look exhausted. Did anything happen-"

"My college days are always happening," I was quick to wave off her questions and started walking towards the counter. "So what is for lunch?" I changed the topic, causing her to be beam.

"Oh, Sonia is arriving here. We will be having lunch with her."

"Grandmother is coming?" Sarah raised an eyebrow. Mama nodded.

"Yes, and now you, girls, should head upstairs and hang out in the staff room. It is empty, and I recently installed a heater there. Go warm yourselves." She ordered, walking right back into the kitchen.

Without looking at each other, Sarah and I simply nodded and began dragging our feet up the stairs. There was only one room upstairs, and that was the staff room. Mama hadn’t really hired any staff because her bakery was going nowhere, but she loved making free or extremely cheap food for others, so Papa was happy in paying for this tiny shop.

Upon reaching the staff room, Sarah immediately lounged on the small broken couch while I sat on the brown mat spread on the floor. A small heater had been situated against one wall of this room; I didn't want to bother switching it on. Gas bills rocketed high with such devices.

Watching as Sarah began loudly talking to someone on her phone, I pulled out my pink diary and started at its broken cover page. Sarah's friend, Nadia, had torn it apart. Subtle tears were brimming my eyes as I tried patching it up.

Bullying really hurts. I believe in patience. I believe that even cold people deserved a helping hand because their bitterness and anger are ruining their lives, too, but being belittled and degraded on a daily basis isn’t easy. In fact, seeing yourself being ridiculed by someone you once looked up to hurt. I would recite Duas to always feel better whenever I would be feeling low.

With Mariyam being seven years older than me and my younger brother, Zaid, only in fifth grade, Sarah had been the one I could relate to. I felt sad about losing such a good friendship.

Frowning as my book failed to even repair, I jumped as the staff room door opened and Grandma Sonia and Mama came walking in with huge smiles on their faces.

Mama was carrying a piece of a tray full of pastries in her hands.

Walking up to a surprised looking Sarah, who had immediately cut the call, my grandmother cupped her granddaughter's face and widely smiled.

"Sarah, you know your papa's friend, Uncle Yusuf'?" She smiled, making me get up and move towards them. 

What was going on?

"Yes,” she reluctantly nodded, eyeing both my mom and grandmother with annoyed confusion. She seemed to be losing patience.

"Well," Grandma tenderly gazed at her granddaughter. "He worked some strings and got you accepted into the scholarship program you had applied for. Your papa just called. You are going to he is taking you to London. You will be staying with your Uncle Junaid's family.”

“What! No way…” The look of happiness on Sarah’s face was so profound. She seemed so shocked and excited. It was after a long time that I was seeing her smile like this. I had been sympathetic to her. Guess, I didn’t need to feel that way anymore. 

Mama and grandma started hugging her, celebrating her joy, and with them distracted, I sneaked out of the room and walked towards the kitchen. I was happy for my cousin. She was finally going to live her dream. She used to talk about this scholarship since we were children. I just felt sad that I could no longer celebrate this moment with her. .

Now sitting down on a round chair and began eating a muffin.

I was a stress eater.

The pain was real. The obstacles were tough, yet so easy in comparison to most. I knew I had to be strong…knew I had to fight my fears and be content. It felt difficult…almost draining to see someone so broken hurt you with their pain, but this life was temporary; Gains, here, were meaningless.

I had to be patient.