Duty Free (23 page)

And then Mulloo came in with an ice-basket and behind her Tony, carrying two bottles of wine and they were both laughing—which was even more odder because I can’t remember the last time I’d seen Tony laugh—and they asked
us if we’d met Zain. And we said yes and they said he was Irum’s friend and Tony clapped him on the back and Zain said, “Here, Aunty, let me,” and took the ice-basket from Mulloo’s hands and Mulloo beamed at him and then Tony started to ask what we wanted to drink and Mulloo started wondering where Sunny and Baby and all had got to and while all of this was going on, it suddenly donned on me that Zain must be the DVD
-wallah
!

So as soon as I could, I grabbed Mulloo’s hand and pulled her down on the sofa and whispered, “Be frank. Is this the DVD-
wallah
?”

“Yes, that’s Zain,” she giggled. “Isn’t he lovely?”

“Where’s Irum?” I asked.

“Upstairs, finishing off some homework. She’s just coming.”

Then Baby and Jammy and Sunny and all came and they started talking about this and that and laughing and joking and through it all I kept noticing that Mulloo and Tony, they looked different, you know, happy. Every now and then they’d give each other smiles. And when Mulloo cracked a joke Tony would laugh the loudest even if joke was limp. When Irum came downstairs she sat down next to Mulloo and sort of smuggled into her side and Mulloo put her arm around her. And every now and then, Irum and Zain would also give each other private-type looks. Which, between you, me, and the four walls, became a bit over and sickish after a while and if it had been someone else in my place they might even have passed some comment about it. But you know me. I never complain.

Because it was just a GT and not a big dinner-type thing,
we were all sitting together, you know, not men and women on opposite ends of the room. And Zain was also sitting with us and talking politics and you know for a poor-type DVD-
wallah
, his English was quite good. And then there was a short pause in the conversation and Janoo asked Zain what he did.

Zain said, “I’m between high school and college but right now, I’m running my cousin’s DVD store.”

I looked at Mulloo’s face to see if she had died of shame, but not for one second. In fact, she was grinning as if Zain had just announced he was a sugar mill-owner.

“Are you interested in film?” asked Janoo. Crack! As if you run a DVD store because you enjoy watching films. I was making signs and symptoms at him to change subject but of course Janoo as usual wasn’t looking at me.
Aik tau
he’s also such a stuppid.

“Not interested.” Zain laughed. “
Obsessed
. That’s why I’m doing it. I want to introduce the general public in Lahore to some non-Hollywood directors too.”

“Really?” asked Janoo, looking interested. “So who do you rate then?”

Zain wheeled off a list of strange, strange names like Ray and Maal and Four Man and someone else, I think so must be Indian, called Guru Sawa and I don’t know who, who else.

“Oh, yes,” said Janoo. “
Days and Nights in the Forest, The Seven Samurai
. Excellent, excellent. And Hitchcock?”

“Master of supense,” said Zain. “
Psycho
is beyond amazing.”

I was about to ask who had made a film about Janoo’s younger sister when Akbar butted in and asked Zain what he
thought of someone called Score Say Say. And Zain said that he didn’t think
The Departed
was his best work but that
Raving Bull
and
Taxi Driver
were “fan-tast-tick.” And then Janoo put on a silly face and pointed to himself and said, “You talkin’ to me?” in a weird American-type accent and Jammy said, “I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse,” in a low, horse-type voice.

And they all burst up laughing and started doing hi-fives like silly teenagers and Akbar said but that was Copp Ullah and Jammy said yes, he knew that
yaar
, but that Copp Ullah was better than Score Say Say and that someone’s godfather wiped the floor with some taxi driver and they all started arguing, but not in a fighting way.

Then Baby said, “
Bhai
, I know you will all look down your noses at me but I
tau
loved
Omkara.
”

“No, no, no,” said Zain. “It’s
zabardast
. Really,
really
brilliant. Bharadwaj’s riff on
Othello
. And the soundtrack!”

“Dham Dham Dharam Dharaiya,”
sang Akbar, and guess what? I couldn’t resist joining in. And Irum said she didn’t know I had such a nice voice and had I taken singing lessons and Janoo looked surprised and asked if I’d seen this film and I said of course, I’ve seen every single Indian film that Sound Sensations in Fortress Stadium has ever had and will ever have.

“What did you think of
Maqbool
?” Zain asked me. And then he explained to Janoo that it was an Indian take on Mack Beth.

I said Tabu looked nice with her long hair and long face but that fatty Pankaj Kapoor, I didn’t like so much with that big belly of his and really I could see why Tabu didn’t want
to sleep with him every night. And so I could fully understand why Tabu got Irfan Khan to kill him. In her place I’d have done same. But if I’d had Saif Ali Khan or my favourite Shahrukh or even Amir Khan in Pankaj Kapoor’s place, then I wouldn’t have looked at Irfan Khan twice. Zain laughed and said “Yeah right,” and at the mention of Amir Khan, Sunny said that he
tau
was her total favourite and had we seen
Three Idiots
and of course Janoo hadn’t and Zain said he must.

“It’s more commercial and bits of it are way over the top,” said Zain, “like the birth scene which I’d have chucked out, but still it’s interesting. You should watch more Indian cinema, Uncle. Not everything, because a lot of it’s still escapist crap but here and there you find some good films. Have you seen
Mr. and Mrs. Iyer
, for instance?”

My hand shot up. “I have!” When all their eyes turned on me, I quickly put down my hand. “
Hai
, so sad, so sad. Those horrid Hindus, you know, what they do to us poor Muslims. But most saddest, their love, unspoken …”

“See, you should use Aunty here as your guide,” Zain told Janoo. “She seems to have her finger on the pulse of Indian cinema.”

“It seems she has,” said Janoo, nodding slowly and looking at me as if he was seeing me for the first time ever. Crack.

Zain is such a shweetoo and he has so much of knowledge also. But between you, me, and the four walls, he doesn’t seem like a poor DVD
-wallah
. In fact, he almost seems like one of us. If you know what I mean. I think so there’s something dishy going on here.

Mulloo called us all in for dinner and one thing I will say for Mulloo, food’s always been good in her house, even now she’s poor. It was a sitting-down dinner and in the middle of the table was a huge dish of mutton
karahi
with slithers of fresh ginger and spring onion and sliced raw chilli spattered on top and
seekh kebabs
with
imli ki
chutney and
aloo zeera
and
khutti daal
and cucumber and mint
raita
and pipping hot
tandoori rotis
studied with sesame seeds. So we all sat down and tucked in and tucked in and tucked in and no one spoke except to say “pass the
daal
” and “one more
kebab yaar
” and “this is seriously good.” And so on and so fourth.

Finally Akbar pushed back his chair, I think so, to give rooms to his belly, and said, “
Wah!
Mulloo, that was the best meal I’ve had all year.”

“Isn’t she just the most brilliant cook?” said Zain.

“
You
made this?” asked Baby, raising her eyebrows.

Mulloo flashed and looked a bit uncomfortable. I thought,
haw
, poor thing, now she’s been caught. I was about to take pity on her and say something about Kulchoo’s tuition to change the subject, when Zain spoke up again.

“You should try her
nihari
, and her
shahi tukras
, and her lemon cake. I’ve been telling her and telling her to start a catering company like this Pakistani lady did back home in Toronto. She started off real small. Just her and a friend. Now she’s h-u-g-e. Huge.”

“Fat, you mean?” asked Sunny.

“Uh-huh, she’s model thin. And always in designer gear. No,
I meant her business is huge. She has a TV show and she’s written cookery books and she’s all over the glossies.”

“You live in Toronto?” I asked.

“Yeah. I’m here for six months, till spring, minding my cousin’s store, while he finishes up a project in Karachi.”

So he is not a DVD
-wallah
. And he lives in Toronto. And he probably has a Canadian passport also. And a house in Missy Saga. It’s not fair.

“So, Mulloo, what’s stopping you?” asked Janoo. “If I could get food like this at a party of mine, I’d hire you in a second.” Look at him. As if he throws parties ten times a day.

“Well,” said Mulloo, looking uncertainly at Tony. “Tony and I, we’re thinking about it. It’s just that …”

“Actually,” said Tony, clearing his throat in that bore way he always does before making some bore speech, “Mulloo was already doing some catering on the side. In fact, she’s been a rock for me these past few months. But the type of catering she was doing was small-scale stuff. It wasn’t until Zain here started pointing out the potential, that we both looked at it seriously. I’ve given it some thought and done some sums and my mind is pretty much made up. If Mulloo takes on the food, I’m ready to look after the business side of things.”

“Great! Event management,” said Janoo, and thumped Tony on the back. “Good thinking.”

“Go for it,
yaar
,” said Jammy and he raised his glass and said, “To Mulloo and Tony’s business. May it prosper.”

Everyone picked up their glasses and said the same, even Sunny and Baby, who, if you ask me, were looking a bit
shelf-shocked. And Mulloo still wasn’t meeting our eyes but then suddenly Sunny seemed to make up her mind about something and she leaned over and put her arm around Mulloo.

“I book you first!” she said. “For our twentieth-wedding anniversary party in Feb. Can I have this divine
karahi
for it?”

Mulloo nodded and gave her a shaky-type thank-you smile.

“As soon as my A-levels are over I’m going to join Ammi’s business full time,” announced Irum.

“No, you’re not!” said Mulloo at once. “You’re going to apply to colleges both here and abroad and go on with your studies. After you finish you can decide what you’re going to do. But not one second before.”

“
Aw
, come on.”

“No come-on, shum-on,” said Mulloo. “You’re going to college.”

“You could always apply to university of Toronto,” said Zain, winking at Irum.

Irum flashed, and then gave him a sideways smile.

While everyone was saying goodbyes later, Baby whispered in my ear, “Who’s the cute boy?”

“I think so, Irum’s friend.”

“Mulloo has all the luck!”

This morning I woke up and stretched my legs. They were paining. I stretched my toes. They were paining. I tried to sit up. My head was paining. Then I knew. I was dying of dengue fever. As usual, Janoo had got up at dawn time and gone out. So from my bed only I rang Mummy to ask her to come over immediately with doctor and ambulance. But she wasn’t at home. Maid said she’d gone to the bazaar. So I called her mobile and same maid answered and said, “Begum Saab has forgotten her phone at home.” Honestly, I think so Mummy’s gone sterile. She forgets everything. So then I called Janoo’s mobile. He was at his lawyer’s office sorting out some property papers or something bore like that.

“Come home,” I croaked over the phone. “I’m taking my last breaths.”

“What’s the matter with you?”

“I have dengue.” And I hanged up the phone.

So he came. Took my temperature. And, I’m sorry to say, he did it a bit impatiently. Considering I was dying and all.

“Dead normal,” he said, peering at the glass tube.

“But I have dengue,” I whispered. “You get pain in your bones when you get dengue. My feet feel like they are breaking and
my calves feel like someone has been sitting on them all night. And I’m so tired I can’t even lift my head.”

“I’m not surprised you’re tired. We came home from Mulloo’s at 1 a.m. and then you sat up till 3 watching your recorded serial.” He got up from my bedside and tripped over my six-inch Jimmy Choose stilettoes I’d been wearing the night before. He held them up and said, “This explains the pain in your feet and calves. Some sensible shoes and a decent bedtime and you’ll find your dengue fever will disappear magically.”

Stuppid. What does he know? It’s not as if he’s a doctor or something. Anyways, I was in bed looking after myself because no one else will, when who should come in but Madam Mulloo. She was carrying two huge boxes of chocolate brownies, all done up with ribbon and things, that she proudly announced she’d made herself. The brownies, not the ribbons. She asked what I was doing in bed. I almost said dengue but then I thought maybe it is a disease that only poors get. I mean no one I know has died from it. So I said I was just feeling a bit tired and runned down. That’s all.