Authors: Zeenat Mahal
As understanding dawned, she laughed out loud at her mother-in-law’s ingenious games.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, still sounding irritated.
Shahira had to hand it to her. Aunty Salma had fooled them well. Annoyed, she rounded on him,
“You know, none of this would have happened if you hadn’t been walking around like the wronged
and hurt husband.”
“
Excuse me?”
He sounded incredulous. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And what do you
mean by ‘none of this’?”
“The first time, when Aunty Salma ‘forgot’ I was with her and remembered only when she’d sent
the driver home, which didn’t take her long by the way, considering you came only fifteen minutes
later. The second, the mysterious person no one knew and a street no one had heard of, and you and I
had to roam around for an hour, in each other’s company, in the confined space of a car. And now
today, she said that you were an
angraiz
who couldn’t be bothered going to the
dargah
for her so she
sent me.”
He was silent and then very softly replied, as if control was a big ask at that moment, “I’d told her
I was coming here, as I always do whenever I come home for any length of time. She called me in
panic, saying that you’d called her, telling her where you were and that you were afraid and lost in the
dargah.
”
He paused, realizing how lame it sounded now but at the time he’d really been worried. There
were all kinds of people there, drug addicts, thieves, a suicide bomber or two, and it was crowded
like always. Sighing, he added, “And that I would be able to spot you easily since you were wearing
red.”
“She insisted I wear red, she told me it was something to do with her
mannat.
Obviously, all the
better for you to spot me with!”
Hussain looked like he was ready to do something drastic, like pull his hair out. Shahira tried to
hide her grin.
Hussain’s sardonic tone permeated her thoughts, “And what do you mean I’ve been behaving like
an injured husband?”
“You’re right, my bad. I should’ve said a sulking, injured, typical husband.”
Hussain merely looked at her, his face a mask of disinterest, and then very quietly, “I’m not really
your husband, you know.”
“And I’m certainly not your wife.”
“I’m glad that’s clear.”
“It is to me.”
He snapped, “Now, wait a minute. Are you seriously suggesting that I—I, who made this
arrangement—am in any way unclear about it or have any wish to change it?”
She waited a beat and replied calmly, “No one even suggested the possibility of change until just
now. And it wasn’t me sulking, looking angry and bad-tempered. I’m not the one who’s been yelling at
Nusrat every morning for the last four days, and I surely did not tell Natasha to leave me alone for ten
effing minutes. And by the way, they all know what effing stands for, so kindly…”
“That’s enough,” he said quietly. Then added, “I said that to Natasha?”
“Yesterday. You were working on your laptop and she…well, she’s seen you after a long time.”
After a pause she added, “You should make up with her. She was hurt.”
Silence.
“I was certainly not
behaving like an injured husband. But I was upset at something you’d said
earlier. Twice now, actually.” He paused and then continued thoughtfully, “I was upset because you
were right that night. I haven’t been a good father and I had no business pretending that I was. I’ve
repressed my guilt for so long that when it came, I was uncomfortable. Seeing you with your son and
Natasha, I realized you’re a very good parent.”
He paused and then continued in the same tone, “I felt regret and I may have unconsciously been
angry with you for pointing it out.”
She didn’t know what to say. But he hadn’t finished, and added, “You were a single parent, still
are for all practical purposes, and now you have two. I couldn’t be there for mine when she needed
me.”
“She still needs you. You have time to make amends. Some people never get that chance. Some
don’t even realize what they’re missing,” she said, thinking of Usman.
Apparently Hussain realized that too because tentatively he asked, “Shahaan’s father…hasn’t he
ever…?”
She shook her head. “No. But that’s a good thing for us, Shahaan and me. He wasn’t a very nice
person.”
Hussain didn’t ask anything more and she was glad. They reached home in companionable silence.
“What are we going to tell Aunty?”
He smiled and his face softened. He was even better looking when he did. “That we made up. No
more sulking.”
She smiled back and nodded.
≈
SEVEN
Hussain couldn’t help but notice the lengths to which Nudrat was going to get his attention. He’d
known her a long, long time ago. It had been a dark period in his life and she had been a good friend
and then for a time, more than that. But that folly was over and he’d made that clear to Nudrat,
repeatedly. He’d even stopped taking her calls because he didn’t have the time for her theatrics.
Soon after allowing her to seduce him, he’d realized the similarities between his late wife and her
friend, who was so keen to make him feel better. He’d been revolted, with himself most of all. He
was doing exactly what had been done to him—he too was sleeping with another man’s wife. He
wasn’t that kind of man, or didn’t want to be. So he’d extricated himself, trying hard not to hurt her
feelings.
Of late the only woman on his mind was Shahira. There was something about his little
schoolteacher that haunted his senses. The way she kept herself at a distance from him just made him
more determined to crack that wall she’d constructed around herself. He’d tried, maybe once or
twice, to get to know her, talk to her, but she responded with cool politeness. Apparently she was a
stickler for rules. Perhaps it was the teacher in her, but he couldn’t make her bend the rules even a
little.
She was tolerant of his mother’s maneuvers and his own rather inconsistent behavior, handling
everything with a pleasant and good-humored approach. At the wedding, she’d fielded the rude,
teasing and sometimes sympathetic questions about their living arrangement with humor and flair. She
had people laughing over it, and themselves, at having asked. She could laugh at herself, too. She
could look beautiful when she made the effort, or when she smiled that lovely open smile.
To take his mind off Shahira, he went downstairs to see his mother.
She looked excited. Smiling, he asked, “Ami, what plans are you hatching now?”
“What do you mean, hatching? I don’t plan. I was merely thinking that you are an extremely
irresponsible father.”
Having been made aware of this recently, he remained silent. He had no defense. Salma had been
preparing herself for a smart comeback, which never came and looking at his contrite face, she
continued with more enthusiasm.
“Hussain, Natasha is growing up; she needs a father here. And what about Shahaan? Shahira looks
after me like a daughter would, and she loves Natasha like a mother. The boy needs a father, too.”
“Ami
,
what are you suggesting? I can’t give up my business and stay here.”
“Who said anything about that? You men don’t listen…tsk, tsk…always jumping to conclusions and
making decisions without knowing all the facts.”
Laughing, Hussain gave in. “Okay, Ami. I’m sorry to have interrupted. What
were
you saying?”
Smiling lovingly at her only son, she changed tack and became the pleading matriarch, “Hussain,
beta
, you should take the children for a holiday. School has just let out and they’ve worked so hard all
the year around. Did you see Natasha’s report card? She’s doing so well now, thanks to Shahira, of
course.”
“Of course,” Hussain agreed sarcastically. He was still put off that she should be on his mind so
much, especially when she refused to respond to his overtures as any normal woman would—
positively and enthusiastically.
Salma ignored him and gave Natasha, positioned strategically in the sitting room, the signal to
enter. Natasha came in looking rather forlorn.
“What’s the matter,
Toat Batoat
? Why the long face?”
Natasha looked at her father with sad, puppy dog eyes, “
Abba
, all my friends are going abroad
again this year. I’ve never been anywhere,
ever.”
“Natasha, don’t you remember when we went to Florida, and…”
Giving him a quelling look, she said with all the contempt her eleven-year-old self could muster,
“Abba, I was five. I don’t remember that. I want to go
now
, when I can remember and see things and
show off like the rest of them.”
Hussain laughed, “Really? That was six years ago? Wow!” He looked bemused and then smiling,
said, “Okay. I’ll arrange for all of you to go to Europe. You can go to Disneyland Paris, visit
Blackpool in England, and eat Belgian chocolates…”
Her lower lip trembling, her eyes unable to contain the tears, she said, “I want to go with
you..
.”
“Oh, baby! Come here.” He hugged her and looked at his mother for support and received a killing
look. He was outnumbered and out-maneuvered. And then he thought of his one ally in the place.
Taking heart he said, “Okay Natasha, call your Mom, let’s make a plan.”
Shouting and screaming with joy, she ran to call Shahira, who was, Hussain was certain, the one
person he could depend on to put a stop to this nonsense. They could easily go on their own and he
would make a nice long vacation for them, no expenses spared. He was already chalking up the
itinerary in his mind, when Shahira walked in with Shahaan and Natasha on either side.
“What’s the exciting news?” she asked in the singsong tone only mothers have the gall to use in
public.
“Natasha wants to go abroad for a holiday and I very generously suggested that I could arrange for
all four of you to have a fantastic tour of Europe.”
Shahira’s face lit up with excitement; it was like seeing a child finding a treasure trove of candies.
And he felt a thrill of pleasure at having been the cause of it.
“But,” he cautioned, “Natasha wants me to come along too.”
And her face fell.
She recovered immediately but Hussain had seen both the excitement rise…and fall. Irrationally
and inexplicably, he was furious. What the hell was the matter with her? Women had been lining up to
marry him. He was a perfectly…but he was on the wrong tangent altogether. He took a deep breath
and gathered his scattered thoughts. She was in his employment. He’d called her to get him out of
going.
The thing was, he was now determined to go. And he was back on the tangent he shouldn’t be on.
His mouth set in a grim line and seething inwardly with resentment, he wondered what the hell was
going on with him? But more importantly, who did she think she was? She had no business not
wanting him to go. It was his decision. He was perfectly capable of making his own decisions and he
didn’t need some uptight schoolteacher telling him what to do.
His decision, perfectly rational, sound and long over-due, was that he wanted to spend time with
his daughter and Shahaan, who was a precocious little chap and obviously in need of a father. He was
determined to do his duty by both and to hell with overpaid, judgmental ex-schoolteachers.
Shahaan piped up excitedly with his sister, “Wow! Yes. Please, Mom, please!”
Shahira looked at Hussain and then at his mother. Thinking she knew which way the wind blew,
she turned back to the kids with that special smile she had just for them. “Well, it would be
wonderful, of course, if we could all go together but Natasha, honey, your father’s very busy. You
know he works very hard for you, so you can have all the comforts you’re used to having. He doesn’t
like
being away from you but he
has
to.”
Boy, she was good. She must have been one hell of a teacher. He heard his daughter protest, his
mother adding her bit into the medley; but he knew he held the ace in his hands and he had every
intention of using it to his own advantage. She was going on this holiday with him and she was damn
well going to like it.
“Come here, Shahaan.”
The boy came with alacrity and Hussain made him sit beside him, like an equal. He remembered
how he’d always liked Javed Uncle best because he never made him sit in his lap. Hoping it was true
for most boys, he looked at Shahaan solemnly. He was being contrary, he knew, but the way her face
fell when she thought he might be coming along had just got his back up. He could still feel the prickle
of annoyance.
“So, Shahaan do you think we should vote? Like a democracy? Instead of the parents making a
decision and forcing it on children, I think they should have a say as well. Right? Isn’t that fair?”
Shahaan nodded enthusiastically and decided to speak up for good measure, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”