Accusations

I arrived back in the UK yesterday morning and after catching up on some much needed sleep, went to my parents’ house to let them know I'd returned from my trip abroad, was still alive and hadn’t decided to run away and live in Amsterdam.

I sat in their room, thinking how twenty four hours ago i'd been having so much fun, hanging out with my friends, walking around the city, going to cool bars and generally having a great time. Now here I was, in my parent's room, wearing my traditional shalwar kameez with my head covered by my dupatta (like a large headscarf) sat on the bed, trying to look good and not like i'd been sinning all weekend. My parents sat on their prayer mats, their faces set in stone as usual when faced with the dilemma which is their Youngest Daughter Who is still going off the Rails. It never ceases to amaze me, the contrast in the two lives I lead. Often, when i'm sat with my parents in such a situation, I like to think of really extreme things which I know they'd disapprove of, such as men and clubbing. I think it makes me feel like I get some control back, as although they might tell me what to do constantly, at least they can't get inside my head and stop me thinking what I want. Yet.

My mum was going through her list of ailments which I have to translate tomorrow to her GP. She's a bit of a hypochondriac and has been so for about twenty five years. For years she’s spoke of her impending death due to her catalogue of life threatening illnesses. These include high blood pressure, low thyroid and diet controlled diabetes, none of which have been life threatening to her so far (touch wood), but are a way of her commanding attention and her life revolves around never ending doctor's and hospital appointments, most of which are unneccesary.

This obsession with illness extends to all my extended family, although my mum’s definitely at the extreme end. Because of the self contained environment we live in and lack of other things to talk about, the second favourite and much discussed topic after religion and / or marriage is illness.

This usually involves what illness a person has, what operations they’ve had, what medicine they’ve been on or are on. There’s a lot of advice given, based on each person's experiences. But like their interpretation of religion, diseases and symptoms get confused and exagerated and often diseases are invented which don’t exist, based on what they think they have rather than what they actually have.

After my mum had gone through her list of self diagnoses, which included an ulcer (which I have to report to the GP, without sounding like a fool), my father out of the blue asked if I’m writing a column for a newspaper against Islam.

To say I was shocked is putting it mildly. I couldn’t believe it. I said no, and I’ve no idea why you’d think that. To which he said “Yes you are, you’re writing it, I know. And don’t you dare mention my name in it.” He was really angry and kept repeating himself, not listening to my objections.

I thought, perhaps they've seen I’m attached to my laptop and made their assumptions based on that. I explained everyone has a laptop and the internet is probably the most useful invention in the world. Then I thought, did Mohammed tell them I was reading a book about Palestine and make it sound as if the book was against Muslims? So I explained the book as well.

The problem is, the more I explain things to my father, the more that signifies wrong doing in his eyes.

He said if I was innocent, I’d just say no, but instead I’m diverting the answer by making excuses. I replied I’m shocked you’d even ask such a thing, to which his answer was, if I’m innocent, I wouldn’t be shocked.

My God, how can I win against such ridiculous arguments?

Then they started saying, you should read such and such a book, pray, be a good Muslim, ours is the best religion in the world. They got into the religious lecture again and I escaped after another ten minutes of them droning on to the sounds of their own voices and me insisting I was still Muslim and not an athiest columnist for a newspaper. Chance would be a fine thing, if I could get a newspaper column.

But I was really scared – how did my father know what I’m doing? I can’t believe how my heart plummeted when he made the accusation, although it’s not justified. But it scared me he even had an inkling I was writing anything related to them or religion and despite its’ anonymity, made me realise how careful I have to be. Although I doubt my family would do anything apart from tell me how I’ve shamed them even more if I was associated with the blog, I still don’t want to be identified and it’s freaked me out that I might be.