I was born a little politician; I had no hair, always reached out for things that didn’t belong to me and cried for no good reason. My family only helped me to get better. The two parties also known as Motherhood and Fatherhood did not get along. Most people call this a broken home; I call it a State. They fought and divided the territories at home; my mother ruled from Kitchen to the Master Bedroom and everything outside of that was under my father (there was not much left, it was a small home). I was like an immigrant party; I would spread a little terror and setup my dollhouse wherever I could.
School was even a better place to polish my skills. Teachers were in constant state of frustration and anger; clearly teaching was not their first choice of profession but a solid backup plan. The rage I could cause with just scraping the wall paint with my steel ruler made me feel the power I had over their nerves. The kids were a little army, the generals set in the front making connections with teachers and in struggle to gain additional smiley face stickers than they could manage to make space for on their writing books. Then came the backbenchers, these were the real soldiers. They had no real goals; they would follow me blindly and exchange their kebab ketchup sandwich for my Lazy-mom-jam-butter-sandwich. Just like how in real life they exchange their precious lives for made-up causes and non-existent threats.
Some might think having siblings would not provide favourable conditions for a politician in making. I think maybe if I was in a different country but in Pakistan where we do Monarchy-Style-Democracy, having siblings only helps. The more you have the more ministries I can cover. Then in our culture thankfully how good your relationship is not directly proportional to the number of kids you produce. So usual parents are very generous with the number of ministers they provided. I am a huge advocate of merit while my little brother is my favourite. Whoever could get most money out of daily grocery budget got to be the finance minister. This was transparent.
While other girls were flipping the pages of Vogue, I was setting up my bobby pins to get that duppata set where some hair show and some don’t. You look like you are the independent female ruler of Islamic Republic of Pakistan from front. While, your portrait shows that you know the 30 different ways to party it up. Getting that balance look requires practice and precision.
Please read it with a sense of humor and any resemblance to the truth is purely coincidental, except for all references to politicians and/or celebrities, in which case they are based on real people, but still based almost entirely in fiction.