Representing everyone in my family, this occasion had been inexperienced before, in the course of their lives. Every individual in my family, present in my house at that time had swollen red eyes from weeping, and dark circles from being out of bed most of that night. Once I heard about the incident that had taken place, a lump started to form in my throat. A lump I could not swallow, a lump that prevented me from talking, transporting me into past memories that I could never again share with my granddad. Everyone in the room had resumed a brokenhearted silence. The ringing of the phone brought me back to reality.
As soon as we finished the job, my uncle went and sat in the front room with my dad and all the other men, grieving for my beloved granddad. Then, I was alone with nothing to do. I looked out into the long corridor. It felt so empty, as if all my insides were turned inside out. The front door stood wide open, as more and more people poured into our house. Outside, the rain gushed down, beating against the windows, like drums being played at a great musical in the Sydney opera house. The wind blew my hair back and I felt the shivers that were sent up my bare legs and under my pink strap dress.
I tried to concentrate on the furniture, but nothing could have leaded my thoughts away from the old person. My eyes started to fill with tears, then, slowly, I started to cry. The salty water of the tears slowly started to inch down my face, as they blurred my vision.
I was sitting in the passageway when my uncle came out of the mens room and disappeared into the kitchen. As he went into the kitchen, I heard dishes and cutlery being clattered. A few minutes later, I smelt the mouth-watering smell of the appetizing curry.
“Muna, come and help me in here,” he said
“Cha Chu Jee, (uncle), I can’t. Mums said I’m not allowed in the kitchen as I create a hurricane,” I answered.
“Forget about that right now. Come and help me,” he replied.
Obeying him, I went in and asked him what he was doing.
“Serving dinner to the men,” he responded.
“WHAT!” I enquired. His answer surprised me.
He repeated the same astonishing words again, though I still could not believe him. My uncle, whom thought himself higher than everyone else, was serving dinner.
“Muna, go and put these dishes in the mens” room whilst I pour the curry.”
I felt so grown up inside me whilst I served the delicious dinner. Never had I ever served dinner, since my mum would not let me. After I helped my uncle, I went and sat in the dining room.
At that time, my uncle walked in. He instructed me to set the computer up, install the webcam and sign in onto the internet.
As my uncle walked back into the mens room, I saw my cousin Khadija come into our house, walking in her usual penguin and babyish way. She looked at me and turned away as she gave me a look of disgust. I acted as if I hadn’t seen it, and continued to ignore her.
Half an hour later, I finished setting the computer up, and went to call my uncle.
“I’ve set the computer up,” I told him.
“Have you signed onto the internet?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Okay I’m coming. I’m just going to the bathroom,” he said.
I felt a little thirsty, so I decided to have something to drink. I walked into the kitchen, that looked as dark as a graveyard on a moonless night. ‘Sssssssss’ screamed the gas in the bottle of coke as I slowly twisted off the lid. I was pouring the drink into a glass when I heard a loud cry of laughter come from upstairs. I wasn't sure, but something told me that it had come from my room. As I stepped onto the upstairs landing, my uncle came out of the bathroom and walked into my room.
As I stepped into my room, I saw my cousin Khadija sitting on the edge of my bed with her little sister. She was holding a cone of henna in her hand, and she was laughing like a hyena, but a bit quieter than before. Compared to the atmosphere downstairs, at that time, her laughter seemed deafening. Downstairs it was pin drop silence.
I then saw the reason why she was laughing, but I didn't find it funny. Anger rose up inside me as I stared at my bed sheet. I knew she’d done that on purpose. Just to get revenge on me. I clenched my fists tightly, as I urged to hit her. The more she laughed, the more the anger rose up inside me. I tried harder and harder to control it. Who did she think she was? She had barged into my room without consent. There couldn't be any way she was going to get away at that time. I had to get my own back on her. I knew I would.
My uncle asked her why she had been laughing. Through her laughter, she told him to look at the sheet. Handprints of henna were pasted onto the sides. On top, splurged henna covered nearly half the bed. It looked a shocking scene. My uncle shouted at her and told her to change it. She stopped her laughing and moved off the bed, glumly. I knew that was something she did not want to do. However, she had no choice then. As she got up to change it, I grinned at her like a Cheshire cat. I got my own back on her! I was triumphant.
Looking back to that day now, a year later, I think it had been a mixture of both hilarious and distressing incidents. The atmosphere close by me would not let me get a grasp of the witty incidents. How I responded to my granddads death, was natural, I was upset and emotional. It was as if I had been dragged into the same mood as everyone else around me. The mood surrounding me was very strong and tense. This incident will be an important aspect of my most significant memories.
Thursday 12th February 2004, a date I will never forget!
