The day I got circumcised

Today is my "khatna" (circumcision), I am told, often with a knowing smile. I am given a shower as I am told of the untold riches I will receive after my Khatna. My Dada Jan (grandfather dear) can hardly wait to shower me with gifts. My Dada (grandfather) is the type who shouts “You will drive up the water bill you big tanker!” when I drink water. Today even Dada promises me a purple bank note ("50 rupees"!!) if I go through the operation like a man. Everyone else in the house is giggling and giving each other side glances. Choti Phoopi (younger aunt) walks around anxiously and hurries me to the bathroom.

A table is set in the balcony. I cannot see the face of the doctor since its covered with a green surgical mask. I am asked to take off my pants and lie down on the table. I hear and obey.

As I lay there the doctor whose face I have never seen loads a syringe. Dada is holding down my arms. Choti Phoopi (younger aunt) is holding my legs - her head turned away from the table - as my mother consoles and attempts to pacify my anticipated rebellion. The table is on the same level as the ledge. I turn my head and look over the ledge. Today the table is high enough to finally allow me a view beyond the ledge. I can see the apartments opposite ours lined with curious spectators. I see the children playing in parks as though they had never been circumcized. I had never seen so much of the world before: pretty pretty world . .

I can hear my grandfather talk about his “khatna” : “ you will spoil him ! why you need doctor ? when we wanted to do my khatna we just got our Nai! (barber) …”

“ and despite that Nai I bore you seventeen children !” snaps my Dadi Ammi (grand mother)

“Begum (wife) imagine how many children it would have been if he had not cut off so much . . . of . . so much of . . .” Dada Jan is silent for a while but then mocks “ but how would you know the difference woman?”

“Hanh” goes Dadi Ammi leaving : “you men think you know everything” unsaid and kisses Choti Phoopi on the cheek.

Suddenly I have the urge to pee. The doctor's needle is about to pierce my arm when I muster the courage to declare my need. Everyone halts. Dada Jan's suspicious grip on my limp hands tightens.

A fountain of urine sprays the silence, splashing on the Doctor's shoe. He jumps back shaking his leg trying to kick away the snake of urine biting into his shoe. There is relieved laughter as Dada Jan lets me down and I run to the bathroom.

I go in and stay in. My mother waits outside asking me to hurry up. I take my time. "shuuuushhhh, shussssh" I say goading the water to flow forever and ever. But everything ends. I think of closing and locking the bathroom door when my mother walks in. She kisses me and takes me by the hand leading me back to the table by the ledge. The syringe penetrates my skin, my face turns away, my neck craning towards the ledge.

I wake up to see purple and red and green banknotes placed right in front of my face. The house smells like a hospital. There is a throbbing ache between my legs. I reach out and touch the crisp notes. I could buy anything with so much money.

Pain.

I see my grandfather's toothy grin and I fall unconscious again.

I wake up at an unknown hour. Through the window the sky twinkled. I

feel disgust for sleeping at such an hour. Wearing just a shirt I crawl out of bed.

There is murmur of distant conversation and the crickets chirping outside. I feel free since I am not wearing anything below my waist. I make for my walker. I can walk well on my two feet but I still love racing down the corridor in my walker. I try to lift my leg to sit in the saddle of my walker but I cannot. I get up and walk with my legs wide apart, a not-so-large-anymore-white-bandaged appendage dangling in the middle.

The house was dormant like a medical ward. I see Choti Phoopi (younger aunti) sitting on a bed reading her books with pictures of frogs on them. She wanted to become a doctor. She looks up and gasps. Then averting her eyes away from “the operation” she runs over and lifts me upto her bed. I lie next to her, as she continues reading. I look self pityingly at the huge white bandage between my legs.

I reach over and my tiny hands play with her hair.

"Phoopi, (aunti)"

"hunh?"(without looking up from her books),

"Phooooooopi!",

"hmm what?",

"Iiiiii...",

"hanh?",

"I love you Phoopi...".

She continues reading – I look away as The Tears threaten to jump over my eye lashes.

Then someone whispers in my ear : "Meray Pyaray bhatijay (my dear nephew) I love you too..."

The Tears committ suicide anyways – this time screaming, rolling and performing acrobatics in the air as they fall.

I stand up on the bed and start jumping up and down. Without looking below my waist she lifts one hand in annoyance to try to stop me from jumping. Encouraged by the response I jump higher and higher demanding her until her hand drops and she surrenders. The red splotch on my bandage grows slowly.

"Phoopi"

"hmmm"

"Are you going to be like that Doctor?"

"I think I will become a Nai (baber) – if you don’t stop bothering me . . .”

"Phooooopi...!" she picks a paper and places the Papery Pardah (veil) right in front of “the operation”, tears her eyes away before focusing on my face.

“Phoopi did he cut . . . ummm everything?”

“Just the foreskin . . .”

“Four . . . tin ... ?”

She lifts one of her eyelids and turns it inside out. The red veins showing from underneath the eyelid used to scare me a long time ago. "This ... is a foreskin ... booh!" she points to the eyelids.

"Are they going to cut my eye also?"

"noooo, stupid . . . look I am sorry . . . someday you will realize . . . uff what am I saying ? Bhatijay (my nephew) I am sorry for what happened . . . ".

Then Dada enters : “ What are you doing ? What are you telling him ? Don’t fill his head with too much nonsense Miss! what you sorry for?”

“I wasn’t saying anything . . .”

“No I know your medical types! No respect for religion or tradition! You sorry him because we follow the Sunnah of Rasool Karim (the merciful prophet) ? You think I don’t know how you convincing everyone to go against my wishes? What do you doctors know? Hanh? Cure cancer? Can you ? Noooo! there are other powers also Miss! You are NOTHING! Wait till we find you a husband! He will drive all this medical nonsense out of your big medical head! Every Haideri boy will get Khatna! With or without the permission of some mental medical like you!”

Beaten into submission but without seeing anything haram (forbidden) she carefully goes back to reading her Papery Pardah when a drop of blood lands on the page. She looks up and screams.

I look down at my bandage dripping on the Papery Pardah. "Aray, someone help ... he is bleeding ....!" I look at my bandage dumbfounded for even though I am bleeding profusely I am numb to the pain.

With everyone screaming at once and the sight of me bleeding I start crying "khoon(blood), khoon, Ammmmi jan (mother dear) khooooooon!"

Bawling I rush to the courtyard, my aunt in toe. She carries the stained bed sheets trying to catch the trail of dripping blood while screaming for help. Then everyone (all seventeen members of the household) is upon us.

My mother rushes through the crowd and carries me over her shoulder to her bedroom. I can see my grandfather screaming at a pleading Choti Phoopi. As my mother placates me I look over her shoulder at my grandfather grabbing Choti Phoopi's hair. He raises his hand, looks at me, hesitates, screams “take him inside!” and then hits her on her back. Choti Phoopi bucks and tries to run but he holds her hair firmly. She starts turning away from him and tries to go around him but my grandfather turns too. So for a moment I stop crying and observe what looks like a merry-go-round. My grandfather, the center, driving and paddling my Phoopi, the horsey, as she runs round and round and round.

Meanwhile Choti Phoopi collapses on the floor crying, writhing, breathing for air, trying to wiggle away from him. The horsey is down, but the merry go around continues – the machine in the center and the horsey is still crawling on the floor round and round and round and round and round and round and round and round ...