"Ammi please I really want to go for a sleepover to my friends place." I pleaded with my mother.

Ammi was busy on the cooker stirring yet another curry. It seemed my mother spent most of her time in the kitchen cooking a concoction of Pakistani spices into the pot and only Allah knew the number of ingredients along with it.

"I said no, so that means no." she sternly retorted as she again added a number of spices.

"But everyone is going. I will be the only one left out." I whined trying my best to make my mother understand my point of view.

"Our family girls don't go for a sleepover at a friend's place." she reasoned firmly.

"You are being unfair Ammi." I fired back.

With upset eyes she gazed at me, ignoring her pot of curry, "You will know how fair I am when you become a mother."

At that moment, I had thought me and a mother that is light years away.

But time flew. It flew fast. And here I was with the first sign of pregnancy in my hands.

It was positive. I was to become a mother again. This time, I prayed I wanted a girl who would be my little princess.

Months passed and she grew within me. With each passing day, my bonding with her strengthened and my love for her deepened. Then finally came the day of her birth. After hours of agony, she was at last placed in my arms. My princess.

From that day onwards, I doted her. Perhaps, more than her brother. I knew one day she would leave us all to another man's home. I wanted to pamper her. I wanted to give her all the blessings I could provide her with so that she would never feel deprived.

She grew from a baby to a toddler and then a school going girl. Every year, I would resort to her wishes, fulfilling all her dreams. Her wants were never left as desires, they were always fulfilled.

She entered her teenage years. She felt special knowing she was growing up to be a young woman. She was getting aware of the society and people around her. With that, her demands rose rapidly. It was difficult to fulfill everything she wanted.

"Mom all my friends are going to the pub, I want to go as well. You know me, I do not drink nor do I talk to any boys," with puppy eyes she pleaded.

I looked up from the book I was reading, "Aliza, I have said no and that means no."

"Mom please, I promise to be early," she tried again.

"We are Muslims and we don't go to the pub. I don't care if the world is going to the pub. You will not go," I reproached her.

"Mom you are the worst mother ever. Even my Muslim friends are going. You never let me have fun anymore," she wept and stomped out of the room.

Aghast, I whispered in the empty room,

"You will know how I am when you become a mother."