My Jewish aunty

I had not yet arrived on planet Earth at that time. So how did I find out about Anne? My second sister, the one who had been held by Anne a few minutes after birth, was preparing for her wedding. Some two weeks before, I was at home when the phone rang. A lady spoke to me in Urdu. She told me her name was Anne and that she had just arrived from Israel where her son was working in a kibbutz. She said she was a friend of mum’s and insisted that I pass on her name and telephone number to mum.

"Yeah, right", thought the young campus Muslim activist. As if mum would keep Jewish friends.

Mum arrived home after a few hours. I gave her the message. She read it and was ready to burst into tears.

“Thumhe pata hai ke ye kon hay? Yeh mery saheli hay Canberra se. Meri bahan ki tara hai. Thumhare liye yeh khala ki thara han. Jis waqt thum payda bhi na huwe the!” [Trans: Do you know who this person is? She is my close friend from Canberra. She is like a sister to me. And for you, she is like your aunt. Even if at the time, you were not even born!]

Mum rang Anne, and they agreed to meet the very next day for lunch at a kosher café named Aviv’s located at Sydney’s famous Bondi Beach. I drove mum there. And the first thing Anne said, standing outside this kosher restaurant in this very Jewish part of Sydney was “Assalamu alaykum!”

I waited for mum, who claimed she would only be an hour or so. Four hours later, they both emerged, in accordance with the principles of IST (Indian Standard Time). Mum called me over and said: “Anne khala ko salam karo!” [Trans: give salams to your aunty Anne!]

Mum had also made an executive decision to invite Anne to the wedding. Seating was limited, and I was forced to withdraw an invitation given to a friend. My protests were of no avail. “Thumhari yeh khala hay!” [Trans: She is your aunty!]

Anne attended the wedding and gave her blessing to my sister and her husband. She had tears in her eyes. The last time she had seen my sister was as a baby hardly six-months-old.

My mother is deeply religious. Apparently some religious Muslims have a problem with Jewish people. Funny that.

When I was at university, I used to often pray my Friday prayers at the Surry Hills Mosque. I'd then catch a movie. Afterwards, we would walk around the city and inevitably end up at Elizabeth Street or Castlereagh Street near Piccadilly. And in rubbing shoulders with all our Jewish "cousins" (as we'd call them) with their caps and beards and beads, we'd feel like we were back among the crowd at the mosque! Well, they certainly looked similar.

I've heard some pretty crazy things about the children of Israel over the years from some of Ishmael's kids. But I have never heard my mother say anything bad about Jewish people. After hearing how Anne helped my mum, I could see why.

Through her conduct, her assistance and her love, Anne won a permanent place in my mother’s heart. She behaved like a true Jew, and won the heart of a vulnerable Muslim woman travelling in a strange land.