as I grew older and started coming on to my own,I realised that though I had been a wee bit jealous after ruling the roost for 7 years,of my brother's birth,how lucky I was to have had him born and liberating me from the claustrophobic love of my parents.They, having had lost their first child were so very protective of me, that I would spend the whole evening,a regular playtime for the rest of the children of the'muhallah',sitting primly on the open verandah,hiding behind a book,or trying to lose myself in the fairy tales,while not having the dare to step down the 2 steps to freedom,waiting pathetically for my Father to come and take me for a walk--a--walk,where? In the neighbourhood park.

this was my life till my brother arrived....welcome freedom..to read,to talk,to hope.