A Letter from Heaven, to Ranya the Conqueror

Darling little soul,

You have arrived just two weeks ago, in the far away land of the United States of America, and we have not yet met. Your father, away from home since he was 17, is feeling emotions he says he cannot describe. I imagine, for him, your arrival is like coming home. He is ecstatic. Your mother grew more beautiful every day while she carried you, and is dressing you in her favorite florals. Two pink, flowery people! Motherhood becomes her, it is easy to see.

We have not yet met, but I can see that you are a chip off the Chib Rajput block. That face, with droopy cheeks and long-lashed, wide apart eyes, would fit right in with other little girls in the villages of Chak Natha and Balani. You seem like an inquisitive, feisty child, impatient to discover the world, eager to embrace experiences, ready to live with passion. I hope you will practice caution, but I have a feeling you will throw it to the wind first.  

As girls do, you will change and evolve as you grow and, hopefully, eventually turn out tall, slim and graceful like your mother. For now, despite the fact that feature for feature you take after your father’s paternal side of the family, I get the feeling that – well – you look like me! How fascinating is that? I watch the latest video and see you open your one-week old eyes and curl up that soft yet resolute mouth. You look straight at me and smile, and I feel like I’m looking at myself. I instinctively know what you are thinking; “Here I am, curious as hell…don’t try to stop me. I think I’ll do something naughty now”. That’s me, diving in head first, consequences be damned.

Your parents have named you Ranya – the Conqueror. It is said one takes on the characteristics of one’s name. I pray it is indeed so, and I look forward to watching you conquer life.

You will not be able to read this for some years, and subsequently you may not be interested. Children become attentive to those they spend time with, and with you and I separated by oceans and continents I doubt we will have much more than a digital  relationship. I will adore you from afar and you will know of a loving grandmother without palpably experiencing her utter devotion to you. I wanted to write this in Urdu but that would complicate matters further.  Sadly, neither Urdu nor Punjabi, nor Pashto or Farsi from your mother’s side, will become part of your repertoire. Living in the US, you will be an English speaker (as much as is possible for Americans!). It would be too much effort for your parents to help you develop multilingual skills.  I can only hope that, like Zaraan, you are able to understand your mother tongue and adorably pepper your conversation with lilting words of Urdu; “paani, dudu, ‘raam se, ganda bacha”, the irresistible “godi” and the must-learn-taught-by-me “ullu patha”.  

The first time your mother shares this letter with you will be when you are old enough to read and understand it. You may want to keep it with you and read it again and again. You may even find it fascinating and precious. Whenever I visit, you will excitedly fetch the letter from your special storage box-hiding place (or just pop it up on your ipad from the blog – digital, I forget!) and show it to me, saying “Baba says you wrote this for me…can we read it together?”  Zaraan has discovered that I am not patient with little people and, therefore, has learnt to ignore me unless the matter is about swimming, gulping down candy before his parents discover us, and of course bringing him surprises from my unending travels. You may form the same opinion about impatient me, but I promise to do my best to read this to you again and again, as many times as you would like.  In fact, I plan to write something every year for each of my grandchildren (two thus far) on their respective birthdays and leave my writings secreted here and there – folded between the pages of my books, nestled amongst pictures in an album, filed away in the briefcase that belonged to your grandfather and still carries remnants of another life (the one that Billu has instructions to grab before running in case the building catches fire – he can leave me behind but he mustn’t forget the briefcase!).  It would be like a treasure hunt not just for you but for your parents, my final game play forcing them to discover me all over again after I’m gone. 

I hope to live long enough to see you a grown woman of character, personality and learning. So proud would I be were you to become even more academically accomplished than your exceptional parents. I would like to be here when you find love and bear children. And darling child, I would rest most peacefully knowing you have evolved into a generous, courageous and fair-minded individual whose presence in this world enhances rather than diminishes its goodness. 

But I may not be around that long, and yet I want to be part of your life’s journey one way or the other. So, overjoyed as I am to simply have you – Allah’s special gift abundantly making up for what He took away – I must say all that I want to say, now before it is too late. 

These are life-lessons that have been revealed to me, sometimes in a timely manner so I could benefit from them and other times too late so I can only hope they benefit my children. Consider them, sweetheart, even if you find some over-rated. 

Amujani would remind me “Allah ne hukm diya hai keh maa baap ko kabhi Uff nahin kehna”. On good days I thought “Why would I?” but most days I felt “Well if they deserve it, I will”.  Such arrogance, I learnt too late. Healthy, capable, dependable parents are too valuable to criticize, so we typically don’t. It is when they are old and feeble, somewhat irritable, less central to our existence that we lose patience and exclaim “Uff, stop, don’t, how can you”. Negativity enters our conversation and envelopes our being, rendering us a burden on earth rather than the blessing we were meant to be. Cherish your parents, Ranya. They brought you into this world because such is the circle of life, and at great cost to themselves. They will always love you unconditionally.  You must do the same, only longer, better, greater. Dismiss the option of “Uff” for your parents.

The lyrical Surah Rahman repeats a thought provoking refrain which translates as “Aur tum apney Rab ki kaun kaunsi naimat ko jhutlao ge?”.  Ponder it, recognize and appreciate the generosity of nature, people, the Divine, and destiny. I pray that your world is never dark, but if ever you despair, count your many blessings and know that more than the bad, there is good - though sometimes camouflaged and unrecognizable. Expand your heart, receive the good.  

But Ranya, a flexible and accommodating approach to life does not mean one must demand nothing.  Quite the contrary.  You must nurture an unquenchable thirst for ever more and steadfastly expect the absolute best from life - but first from yourself.   

Hold an unwavering belief that you are worthy, and strive with your entire being to be the best version of yourself. 

You will probably not read Urdu well, maybe not at all (a beautiful language, sadly devalued), but I hope your parents will introduce the great Iqbal to you.  Much is lost in translation so try to understand his poetry in Urdu. He has written equally well in English…perhaps you can start there.  Iqbal articulated the concept of “Khudi”, the confidence and worthiness of self sans ego. It’s a complex concept for the young to grasp, but if you seek it you will find understanding.  You are worthy of the best that life has to offer and you must demand it; let destiny obtain your approval before getting written! Be strong, Ranya, to chase your dreams all the way to realization and even stronger to say NO to what you judge to be wrong, what you know will cause destruction, what may harm even the most insignificant being on earth.  Most importantly, say no to whatever may not make you happy. Don’t compromise on positivity, resist negativity.  

So, my dear, respect and appreciate the opportunities that you are born into, set near impossible goals and surprise us all by achieving them. Just be sure not to step over anyone else’s advantage in the process. In that case, walk away and know that ambition, no matter how worthy, is never better than compassion. Through it all, love your parents and be a happy girl because this is the best you can do for them – to be happy.

Conquer the world darling little soul, and be the best Ranya that you can be.