The Life Of Mahnoor

السلام عليكم و رحمة الله و بركاته

When people in the world ask you questions, you give them straight-to-the-point answers, right?

Right. What matters most is who's asking the question, sure, the answer matters too, but whoever is asking matters most.

So if someone asks you " why are you the way you are? what makes you ' you '? " how do you respond to a question like that? 

Do you give an honest answer, a somewhat honest answer, or do you tell a fib? As i mentioned, it all honestly depends on the person and their brain.

If someone were to ask me that question, however, I wouldn't know how to answer, am i an honest person? yes, of course, but i can't answer certain questions all the time, my brain is different compared to a neurotypical person.

As i type this now, I sit in my room, at my desk, while my beautiful wife is sleeping peacefully, along with our beautiful twins and our precious daughter. My service dog, Dolly, lays by my feet, watching me, just to make sure i don't have an anxiety attack or an episode.

My name is Mahnoor Abdullah Mundair, I am 30 years old, and this is the story of how I became a well known spokeswoman for Muslim rights around the world.

My life begins in Chennai, Tamil Nadu, India. My Amma (mom), had just given birth to me and my siblings, I'm a quadruplet, and i'm the second one.

There's my eldest Akka (sister), Fareeha, Me, my Thangaichi (little sister) Erina, and my Thambi (little brother), Jameel, whom we call ' Meech ' as an affectionate nickname.

Now, as if you couldn't blatantly tell by my and my siblings names, i'm Muslim. Everyone on our Amma's side is muslim, dating all the way back to our ancestors have been muslim.

I have always loved being Muslim, i wouldn't dare switch to any other religion, even if someone held me at gunpoint and told me to convert to another religion or i die, i'd die, I love my religion far too much to even consider converting to another religion. I know that no matter what life has to throw at me or what life has already thrown at me, I know that Allah will always be there for me, even in my darkest times of my life, he will always be there for me.

However, many people in America, where i live now, aren't  particularly too fond of muslims, for whatever reason, i'll never know, probably will never find out either, but whatever, my life matters.

As i mentioned earlier, my story begins in India, my home country, my amma had just given birth to me and my siblings.

She was sprawled out on the bed, her body throbbing and shuddering with pain, beads of sweat falling down her forehead, tears landing on the pillows and towels that laid underneath her, nobody else was home, not our appa (father), not our ammama (maternal grandmom), not our thaatha (maternal grandfather), or our periyamma (fathers sister/aunt). Our poor amma was left all alone, in her house, with four newborn babies, keep this in mind, our amma didn't know much about babies or even pregnancy in general, she was only 19 years old when she gave birth to us. Sure, she took her prenatal classes and made sure to research everything just to be safe, but she was just so young, you know?

Our amma doesn't really remember much the day she gave birth to me and my siblings, she does remember calling for an ambulance, how the call went itself, all our neighbors watching on in shock and disbelief, and naming us all before she passed out.

According to her, this is how the call went:

" 112, what's the location of your emergency? "

" My house! please hurry! please! "

" alright, ma'am, what appears to be the problem? "