Choti Chirya

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply as I waited for my chai (tea in Urdu) to warm up in the microwave. Over the noise of the microwave, the sound of rain drops falling outside had a calming effect. I closed my eyes for a moment but was brought back by the sharp beep of the microwave. I grabbed my chai and my little black book and walked to the living room to sit on the green leather chair near the window. I put the chai down, grabbed my pen and started to flip through. Names, lots of names which would not mean anything for anyone else reading through the pages except me. The names belonged to all the patients I have ever treated. I flipped the pages until I found the end of the list and wrote the latest entry, Nadeem Saeed. All these patients were special to me, but Nadeem especially meant a lot more. I leaned back again and closed my eyes while listening to the storm outside, drifting into my thoughts diving into the memories that the name I just wrote ignited.

In a split second I was back in my hometown in Pakistan, Gujrat.

“Zara!” my cousin Waseem bursting through the gates and shouting my name all the way through. He seemed very excited and out of breath from running over from the post office. “This is for you! It’s in Angraisi but Uncle Nadeem told me it was for you!” . “Angraisi” or English as more commonly known, one of the official languages of Pakistan but rarely spoken or understood in the village. I walked towards Waseem and grabbed the letter from his hand barely able to conceal my own excitement. It was addressed to me, Zara Bhatti, an ordinary teenager from a small village in Pakistan, a dreamer and also a smarter then usual student in the local high school. It was from Aga Khan University, I had just finished my high school and had been applying to medical colleges throughout the country with Aga Khan being the first choice. I opened the letter and read the first sentence. Congratulations! You have been accepted into the Postgraduate medical program at Aga Khan University. I screamed and ran past Waseem to the kitchen where my Ammi(mom in urdu) was crouching down and rolling roti on a black round pan. “Amma! I got into Aga Khan University and guess what! It’s a full scholarship!”. My mom’s face quickly changed to amazement and I heard the best words I had ever heard from anyone! I saw tears of joy! She got up, wiped the flour on her kameez and then hugged me tightly. “You are my smart daughter, and I knew you could do it. Let’s find your dad”. We walked out hand in hand towards the fields of our humble farm.

We saw Abu in the distance crouching over a baby calf. He was crying. “Abu! What happened” He looked up and was surprised to see myself and Ammi there. He quickly wiped his eyes and went back to his composed self. “This morning we came and found him dead. Your uncle says some of the kids had observed the calf drinking from the open drain” The gutter was where all the soapy water went, after people washed their dishes. I looked down at the calf’s lifeless face, it looked asleep, they always do. This wasn’t my first time seeing something or someone dead. I remember when Nani died, everyone thought she was asleep, until the following morning when I came to wake her for chai. I came outside and told Umi, “Nani isn’t waking up”. Abu and Umi ran to the bedroom and looked at Nani. This was the first time I heard my mom cry and the first time I saw Abu hold her so tightly. No one knew what to do, instead we drove 3 hours to a hospital close to the village with Nani and me in the back, her head on my lap. The doctors confirmed her death and then we drove 3 hours back to the village to arrange her last rites.

“Zara, go get your Abu some water, while I talk to him”, I looked up at Ammi snapping back into the present and nodded quietly. I ran towards the house to get some water. I quickly glanced back to notice Ammi sitting down in despair and Abu waving his hands looking agitated. Anger was not what I expected from Abu. I took a deep breath and continued forward, my mind already brewing all sorts of conclusions from visual cues.

“How will we be able to afford the cost of the flight and her housing to live there. Also she will be living alone! What if something happens to her. Ammi looked at him and nodded with agreement “I know... But this is about our daughter’s future. She can be a doctor. Our daughter a doctor? Imagine! If we stop her from this opportunity, we stop her from having a future.” He looked at Ammi in the face and said “How will we afford it. Have you thought about that?” They sat in silence while I approached them slowly. I gave Abu the water and looked at Ammi, she motioned me to come forward and sit between Abu and her. “Zara. This is an amazing goal you have achieved, and we are very proud of you. Abu and I need more time to think about this” I nodded and looked down, I knew what this meant, more time always meant no. I felt the pride and joy being replaced with anger and frustration. Tears welled up behind my eyes as I held my breath and tightened my hands into fists. All those hours of studying…there was no point going towards a dream that will never be possible.

My father was looking at me with sadness in his eyes, he placed his hands on my head as he often did for consoling me in my moments of despair and said “Listen to me my choti chirya” Choti chirya was the name referred to me, since I was 5 years old. It meant a little bird in Urdu, I would always talk about flying around the world like a bird and that’s why I was his small bird. He looked me in the eyes and said “I will somehow figure it out. Okay! Don’t cry! You know I don’t like my choti chirya crying” He wiped my tears from my face “We will make you a doctor my daughter!” he glanced back at Ammi “I’m going to go see if I can get some of the relatives to help us” He turned away from us, straightened his back and started walking back to the village. Ammi got up and grabbed Abu’s empty water bottle. “Let’s go, while your Abu goes and talks to some of the relatives. Let’s see what we have at the house that can be traded in for money.” We walked back to the house, my head resting on the familiar shoulder of my mother.

When we reached the house Ammi went straight to her bedroom. We walked towards a metal trunk in their room. She opened it and started to scrounge through piles of clothes. “I was saving this for your wedding day but a better investment would be for your education.” She pulled out a red velvet jewelry case and opened it,inside was a beautiful gold necklace that intertwined like grape vines into flowers made of gold. There were also gold earrings that looked like chandeliers with little red rubies hanging on the end. “Ammi! Where did you get this?” She looked at me with pride “Before your Nani passed, she got this for you. She wanted you to wear this for your wedding day. I’m sure she would be fine if this goes toward your school” Ammi grabbed the red velvet box and walked towards the front courtyard. “Now! Let’s make some dinner and wait for your Abu”.

Ammi and I were just finishing rolling up the last roti, when we heard Abu call my name from the courtyard. “Zara! Come outside!” I walked outside to see Abu standing with the rest of the village behind him. “The word had travelled that our little Zara wants to become the first doctor from our village! and we all want to make sure she does!” Standing beside Abu was my uncles and aunts, shopkeeper Nadeem, our seamstress aunty Zaka and a few other people in our village. Nadeem Uncle came forward first and put the piece of gold down in front of me. “Zara, you are like my own daughter. Your dream is our dream” He kissed me on my forehead and stepped back. I couldn’t believe it. One by one each person came and put a piece of gold down in front of me and said a few words of encouragement. This was a big deal since traditionally these people would hold their humble gathered wealth from generations in something they found secure which was Gold. That was their savings plans, their investment accounts! I never forgot that day because it was the day a whole village fought for my dream to be a doctor. A rural example of what modern crowdfunding would look like in the future and I was lucky enough to be helped and loved by so many!

The gold we gathered came to a total of 20 000 American dollars. With this money, I was able to go pursue my career as a doctor and was able to open the first medical clinic in our village. I opened my eyes and closed the notebook. This book contained the names of all people I was able to make a difference for with my medical degree, people who did not suffer the same fate as the poor dead calf or my Nani!