Whilst shy, bookish Aziz was growing up in Delhi, a black haired green eyed girl was growing up in Cork, Ireland. Three years younger than him and four thousand five hundred miles away, Ailis spent her days learning to play piano and doing Irish dancing with her twin sister Saoirse. They attended the local catholic church, St Margarets, which Ailis was bored by but felt a connection with the religion and embraced the faith.
Ailis had loving parents and a lively musical home. Her father played hurling and was well known in their home city. Much of this went over her young head. Dad came home sweaty and as he put it, ‘completely shagged out,’ after a hard game or training session. Ailis would look up from her dolls and grimace at her muddy, soggy father and grimace and he would raise his arms above his head like a bear about to attack. She would scream in disgust and delight as he chased her round the living room, sometimes scooping her up from behind in a foul, wet and dirty hug, complete with rubbing his big red beard on the back of her neck. She would kick her legs in protest and demand he put her down and demand her mother make him put her down. Her mother, depending on her mood would either shake her head and laugh at the pair of them or tell dad off for trailing mud in the house and tell Ailis to stop her racket.
There were always musical instruments around the house. Her mum and dad played music for a living. Usually in pubs but also at weddings and dances. They were always mad busy around christmas and sometimes they snuck the girls into places with them to save them getting a babysitter. Weddings were the best as they could blend in with the other guests and there was always sausage rolls and quiche and fizzy drinks. Although mam was strict about letting them not take too much as she didn’t want them showing her up.
People went mad when Mam and Dad played. Especially when they had a few drinks in them and had lost their inhibitions. Suit jackets came off, ties were often seen around men’s heads. Women kicked their heels off. People gathered on the dance floor and jumped up and down and spun each other round and put their arms round each other. Everyone loved each other and was connected by the music. People fell over and spilled their beer and kids ran round old grannies tapped their walking sticks from their seats at the side. It was always joyous.
It was a blue collar working class childhood. They didn’t go without anything but they didn’t have a lot. They had holidays in Ireland. The sisters often had to share. They owned their own home but it was a modest two bedroom house in a working class area and they worked hard to pay the mortgage. They had tough times but they got by.
Aziz’s childhood was equally filled with love but a bit more sedate. His parents were both doctor’s at the local hospital. His ama in the obstetrics ward, his baba a urologist. They were both kind and loving. Baba had family in Delhi but they didn’t see them very often. They were strange, aloof people. They looked down on them because baba became a doctor rather than carrying on the family business. Baba always looked sad and cowed when they visited his family and Aziz hated to see it. He was always so happy and cheerful at home. He and ama doted on each other and they encouraged and supported each other. Baba could see that even at a young age.
They were a muslim family but not a religious one. It was purely cultural and even then Aziz could sense a distaste in both his parents for the culture her in Delhi. When he tried to ask about things he had noticed he was sent out of the room and scolded for having big flapping ears. Aziz didn’t really care for religion either. How could you believe in any kind of God when you have science? Having doctors for parents was the greatest blessing in his life and he loved to hide under the rich oak desk in his parents’ study and pore over medical textbooks. He couldn’t wait to be a doctor one day too. He bombarded his parents with questions about the human body and bizarre diseases and anti biotics until his parents pleaded with him to play with a ball like a normal child. They loved to tease him and were a family enjoyed joking with each other, but after a long day of dealing with patients a young boy with a seemingly endless need for information could fray anyone’s nerves.
They indulged his brightness and enthusiasm and found a good school for him. He was taught english from the age of five and they bought him all the science books he could read.