Half Breed

Watching Purnima parry insults with the boys, Samira wished that she too had that kind of clever confidence. Maybe if she could just think of comebacks then, in the moment, rather than hours later. Maybe then she could stand up to Purnima. Pretty, perfect Purnima. Holiest of holies, the Jainest Jain that ever lived. 

She was awful. 

It had started 3 months ago, when Samira stood up to introduce herself to her new classmates. The teacher, in her infinite wisdom, had seated the two Jain girls together, probably thinking that it might mean an easier transition for Samira. Rubbish. Purnima was the queen bee of class 6 section C. 

She had picked on Samira almost instantly. It had started with the length of her skirt - too short; it seemed. Unladylike. Showy. Then it was her left-handedness. Her hands looked like claws holding a pen, apparently. And then the tiffin incident happened.

The. Tiffin. Incident. 

"What kind of Jaini are you?!?" She had screeched in a voice that scraped chunks off of Samira. She had felt small. Numb. Unable to respond. She had stood there, like an oaf, as Purnima took her tiffin of omelette sandwiches and flung it across the classroom. 

She was ten times the Jain Purnima was, her father had assured her. But then her father was always kind. He was a practicing Jain. He never pushed his beliefs on her or her mum. He never made gagging sounds when her mother cooked meat for herself and Samira. He lied a little to his side of the family. But that too, he said, was a kindness. They would never understand. They were "ritualist" Jains. Temple going vegetarians who didn't eat after sunset, but never hesitated to cut each other to ribbons with their words. 

She tucked that little nugget away for later use. I am a practicing Jain, Purnima. Not a ritualist like you! I practice non-violence. But then, as her father pointed out, if she intended to hurt Purnima with those words, that wasn't non-violence. Shit. 

"This Jainism stuff is hard" her mother said to her as they cuddled with a book later that night. "It takes people a lifetime. You don't have to figure it out all at once, okay?" She had snuggled so hard into her mother that she made her yelp. She loved that sound, and the tickle fight that invariably followed. She went to bed happy. 

She avoided Purnima as best she could for the next few days, but they were bench mates. Stuck together till a teacher separated them. She'd heard that class 7 onwards, you could pick your own bench mate. So it was just a matter of this school year. Not counting holidays, it was just 16 more weeks of school. Purnima hissing cut her reverie short. "Heard your mother's name is Shahnaz." Her eyes gleamed. "Filthy Muslim blood. That's why you love eggs so much!" 

"She's a Parsi. Not Muslim." 

"What's a Parsi?" 

"It's another religion. Lots of us in Mumbai."

"Are you a Parsi or a Jain then?" 

"Uh, both… I guess?" 

"Do Parsis eat meat?"

"Yeah" 

"What kinds?" 

"All kinds, I think." 

"Filthy." She looked as if she were about to spit. "Disgusting half-breed!" The insult landed in her solar plexus. She felt hot tears well up and all she could do was hide her face in her arms and cry and cry and cry. She couldn't even tell the teacher what was wrong. She didn't know why she was crying, or why that insult hurt her so. It just did. 

She could sense that some of her classmates wanted to talk to her, but didn't. Purnima was always around, always watching. And the insults got worse. 

"Heard Parsis are going extinct. When are you going to die?" 

"Did you know Parsi girls are either mad or dead?"

"So, when are you going to show me your tail? You have one, right?" 

"I think I'll call you a mutant half breed from now on" 

"Mutant Half Breed! Can you kill people with your egg breath?" 

There had to be a way to become invisible. There had to be. 

Shahnaz watched as her happy, eager little girl began to dread going to school. From what she had read, all the signs pointed to bullying. And it had to be that Purnima girl. Samira didn't really have any friends yet. None that she mentioned to her, anyway. She made discreet enquiries at school and enlisted the help of one of her teachers. Yup, it was Purnima alright. 

Samira begged her not to intervene. She was sure it would only make things worse. The principal agreed with Samira, but suggested a friendly chat with Purnima's parents. Purnima's mother was quite a surprise. And suddenly, Shahnaz knew what to do. 

Samira couldn't believe it. A picnic. With Purnima. And her mother. "Why???" 

She railed. She wailed. She threw a tantrum. And then it was picnic Sunday, and they were pulling into the car park. Her mother was in a great mood. She handed the badminton rackets to Samira and grabbed the food basket. Oh horror! Chicken sandwiches. 

A car pulled into the space next to them, and a taller, prettier version of Purnima stepped out and hugged her mother. "Diana! You look gorgeous!". Her mother had greeted her like an old chum. Wait, Diana? A smile started on the inside of Samira's belly and made its way to her face. Diana. A christian name. 

"Hi Diana Aunty. Lovely to meet you." Did her voice sound too gleeful? "Hey Purnima." Purnima was turning a pretty interesting shade of pink. Mother introduced herself to Purnima, who mumbled a greeting. This was great. SO great. 

"Are those your famous chicken sandwiches?" Diana Aunty was digging into their basket as they settled their rugs under a leafy tree. She opened the tiffin and took a deep, pleasurable sniff. "Ohhhhhh… these smell SO goood!" She took a bite and shoved the rest of the sandwich in Purnima's face. "You'll love these! They're better than Sana aunty's sandwiches!" 

Samira was grinning so hard all afternoon that she felt sure her face would get stuck that way. Purnima looked like she had swallowed a frog. Diana Aunty was a delight, and completely unaware of her daughter's discomfort. By her own admission, it thrilled her to be around another mother daughter pairing that had the same background as them.

"After all, it isn't easy being married to Jains, am I right?" The mothers laughed, and swapped notes, congratulated each other on their daughters' achievements, and took selfies. So many selfies. 

As the afternoon drew to an end, the mothers planned the next outing. Shahnaz turned to Samira. "Sam, you're good at naming things. Let's name our little group something fun… something that's just us, you know?" Was that a wink? 

"The Half Breeds?" It was out of her mouth before Samira knew it. Purnima looked like she was going to be sick. Diana thumped Purnima on the back and burst into peals of laughter. "What a sassy little thing you are, Samira! The Half Breeds it is!" Poor Purnima, she couldn't even scowl. 

The mothers air kissed each other's cheeks before getting into their cars. Samira waved and waved as Purnima and Diana pulled out of the parking lot. And then she turned to Shahnaz and squeezed her hard enough to make her yelp. She loved that sound. 

She loved this woman. She loved the tickle fight that followed. She loved the drive back home. She loved the warm, glowy feeling she had in her chest. She loved the way her body felt: light, and strong. Her arms were all tingly. She sang along the whole drive back at full volume. Her mother sang along, off key, and making up ridiculous words. 

She had never loved her mom more. And her dad, she reminded herself. How lucky. 

I'm a fabulous half breed! She couldn't stop grinning. Yeah, her face was definitely going to get stuck that way.