LASIK

It was all peaceful before I learned about fundamental human rights in class seven. We learned about many things that day. Readout loud case studies happened thousands of miles away. We memorised not to discriminate against anyone. Girls sitting left and boys right all pretended to listen. Najid and Rizwan couldn't bear the petite teacher taking the class effortlessly. They were the 'cool' troublemakers of the class. They were caught in crime, charged guilty and sentenced for a period of bench sharing with girls. Some looked at them and smirked, some thought 'shame, shame, puppy shame' and others felt sorry and embarrassed for them. And that day I felt a wave of newfound anger that changed my perception, was reluctant to leave me and became Thanos to my peace.

I had all these thoughts boiling and exploding in my head so I looked at my comparatively rational friend Nada when the teacher gave me a stare. It was a non-beneficial slaughterhouse private school in a village, so only seven girls were in my class, meaning just turning your head gets a lot of attention. So as soon as Shirmla Ma'am left I started talking to Nada breathlessly.

"Remember at yesterday's assembly when Lakshmi Ma'am told girls not to run in the hallway. Why did she say it that way? The boys do it all the time. She should have told 'students' instead of..." " Are you coming? " I sighed. " Yes..."

We went to the hallway where we met up with Nada and Maryam's friend from the B class. I was a new addition to 7th grade where everyone knew each other from kindergarten. I only had two and a half friends after 7 months of school. Nada and Maryam were among the conventionally popular kids in the school and there was no place where I felt unbelonging as when I was in the hallway amongst their friends. They bullied me and fooled me as a joke but subconsciously it drained my confidence amongst my peers and I started to relate, be comfortable and confident when with my teachers. Desperate times, pathetic measures.

You see I grew up in KSA for fourteen years in a school where girls and boys of the same class were in different buildings. 24 kilometres away. All this was very very new to me. So when I had to upgrade to branded bags and watches, score less marks on tests, change my beautiful cursive to unreadable scribble, be likeable and friendly to senior boys and flunk classes using 'period advantage', I didn't hesitate.

It's funny what this need for validation makes us do.