Khaleej Times (Life) / 2 November 2013
It is not just linguistic and social propriety that makes me address you by your full name. It is a lot more than that. You will be only as old as my daughter if I had one, but the conviction that you have done much more than what she might have done makes me want to attach the due reverence in my mention of your name.
At the outset, I must confess that I haven’t read I am Malala yet. I wanted to write to you with an open mind, unbiased by the details of your pursuits as purportedly given in the book. I wanted to write to you before I knew from the book what deeper wisdom lay in that 16-year old psyche of yours. I wanted to write to you before you became a hero in my eyes, for now when I see you, I go back in time and think of my adolescent years. I look at you and think of the other 16-year olds that I know. There is a difference between you and us. It is this difference that makes me want to open my heart and let you know how much I admire you.
At 16, I couldn’t even think of what subject to pursue after school, much less talk about issues of social relevance. We didn’t live in a society as closed as yours; we weren’t impaled by laws, nor was fear a dominant reality of our every-day lives. We lived in a free, democratic environment, yet I didn’t have the perception of the world that you now have.
I wonder if the insight that you now have is inherent or if it grew with you, given the conditions in which you were raised. Perhaps you were endowed with the qualities of a hero, and raised by a family that was open to political and social dialogues. Together, you had the most conducive ground to flourish into a child who thinks like a philosopher and speaks like a reformer. No, I can’t claim to have been brought up differently. We were liberal in our views too, we could discuss society and politics in our home too, yet I wasn’t a Malala. Nor are many other girls of this age. And that’s what makes me admire you so ardently.
When I hear you speak, I wish I could articulate my thoughts with such clarity at this age. I still rehearse my words before I say something important, and often end up saying it wrongly. I wish I knew what I wanted to do with my life at least now. I am still a drifter in life. Your conviction stuns me more than your courage. When I was young, I was courageous too, but I now realise that it was less of bravery and more of brashness that sprung from ignorance so typical of those growing years.
I couldn’t have said that I wanted to be the prime minister of the country even in jest, because I hadn’t the slightest clue about what it meant. But you know what it means to say this, and God willing, should you indeed become your country’s PM, I will learn that the dreams of 16-year olds are not mere toy stories. I will learn to take our youngsters more seriously.
Malala (allow me the endearment), it’s hard to spell what makes me adore you. I assume it is more about what you ARE, than what you are presently doing. A child, yet not so. An adult, but not entirely so. A champion, but with no trimmings. A hero, but fearful of ghosts.
When I read the book, my view of you will get more luminous. But I will always primarily admire you for being a 16-year old that many of us couldn’t be, and one that many out there would like to be.
Wishing the best.
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