Vanity is My Favorite Sin

In my parents’ house, money was a privilege we never talked about. Ammi thought it was petty. She always says, “the fuller the pitcher, the lesser the noise.”

And so, we lived a premium life without the frills of snobbery.

But, later in life, I realized that money-talk was at the heart of almost all social conversations. First time at a party, socializing with new people: please, feel free to blow the bell off your trumpet till the audience is awfully desirous of your life and lifestyle.

I remember my first time at such a party:

“My brother got an entire sportswear kit as a gift from our uncle…you know with the joggers and track suit and everything. It was expensive!” Female One said.

“I bought a leather bag today. It cost me eighty-nine dollars! So you’ve been shopping lately?” Female Two said.

“I’m looking for a diamond bracelet. I love the bling bling ha-ha!” someone else pitched in.

It seemed everything they ate, drank, wore and lived with had a bloated price tag on it. Well, normally it does if you’re rich but is it necessary to make it public?

As for me, I was generally quiet; actually, waiting for my turn to throw in an expensive story but just when the moment arrived, I panicked, not knowing how to say, “Only eighty-nine dollars? Yesterday, I bought a pair of sneakers for a hundred and ten!” And still be the full pitcher my mother had shaped me to be.

A sadder side of this conduct is that vanity neglects to understand that appearances can be deceptive. So let’s not judge people before we get to know them.

My first time at the said party was also my first time in America, also my first time being married, being pregnant, and being on my own outside the protective cocoon of my khandan. It overwhelmed me. And as careless as I was not to paint a vivid picture of myself in a trendy outfit, driving all over Karachi, plus the fact that my in-laws lived in a smaller city, I ended up being perceived as the ignorant desi.

The chat suddenly took on the helpful tone of guiding the little lost villager through the big city:

“Did you really plan this baby so early in your marriage?”

“Do you wear western clothes?”

“Your husband is the one with the beard, right? So, America must be really different for you guys.”

Oh not at all! I proudly declared that my husband had lived in New York before, whereas, I was a Karachiite…a Clifton-ite to be exact.

“Oooh!” the audience seemed impressed at last.

I still had to tell them how rich we were but the party was almost over. O well, maybe next time. Goodbye humility.

But, to be fair, a pompous mouth is not always a prelude to a snobbish heart. There is a simple rationale behind such quick talk that life moves fast, leaving us with little time to see beyond the obvious. Hence, it is better to say more and leave less for others to guess. In some ways, we all do it.

I understand that now.

Now, I listen attentively to what people have to say about themselves, without bias or displeasure. I believe it is valuable information, which is theirs alone to keep or share. While I grow more comfortable with myself, as I watch this timeless truth work its magic for me:

If you truly have a treasure worth showing, it will shine through the cracks of time. Graceful silence only makes the treasure more alluring…like fresh sunbeams in a morning sky.

You can’t see the sun yet, but it is there.