Revolt (13 page)

‘There’s a
goorie
with our prince!’ Begum’s awed voice reached Gulbahar who was stirring the
kheer
rice pudding in the big silver pot.

‘A white woman!’ Gulbahar’s heartbeat plummeted. A vision of a
goorie
arriving from America with her son had haunted her many a night. Today, when her fearful eyes fell upon the European woman with the golden, boyish haircut and bare white legs stepping into their courtyard, Gulbahar bitterly resigned herself to her fate; she was not destined to witness her children’s wedding ceremonies.

In despair, she inwardly wailed, ‘He has brought home a
goorie
!’ Many a mother’s dreaded fear of their migrant sons marrying a foreign woman had come true for her, too. Gulbahar recalled the heartache of a city friend, whose son had brought back a lovely Korean woman.

Arslan accurately read his mother’s face. ‘So quick to jump to conclusions – how right and yet how wrong you are, Mother!’ he silently taunted.

His ‘unwanted’ guest stood awkwardly beside him in the middle of the courtyard, the hot sun scorching her head, her freckled cheeks reddening, eyes marvelling at the
seashell-shaped
sculpture of the central fountain, wanting to dip her face in the flowing water.

The gazes of the two middle-aged women draped in shawls signalled to Daniela that they had never come face to face with a European woman before. Nor did it appear that they relished the idea of coming across one, from their startled, hostile looks. Their body language boldly cried out for them. This foreign woman was a threat to their world.

Arslan burst out laughing, startling the three women. ‘Daniela, pardon me, but they are probably thinking something else. It’s so embarrassing … Let me introduce you properly before they faint or eat both of us alive with their eyes,’ he chuckled, ignoring his mother’s disconcerted look as she heard him speak in English and was unable to understand.

‘This is my mother, Daniela. I have yet to find a convincing explanation as to why you are here, without betraying Ismail. As you can see from their expressions, they’ve both got this crazy idea in their heads that you are my lover and have now followed me here.’

‘Oh, no!’ Cheeks crimsoning, Daniela shyly gazed back at the two women.

‘Yes! I must quickly reassure my mother – she suffers from angina!’ He smiled explaining in Urdu, ‘Mother, this is a tourist from England … she has lost her ticket and needs to stay for a few days.’

‘Stay? Here?’ Gulbahar’s heart thudded. Losing ticket? Couldn’t he come up with a better excuse?

‘Begum! Prepare the large guest room for our special guest!’ Arslan loftily instructed their housekeeper. ‘We need to offer her excellent hospitality as befits our family,
handan
! So that when she returns to England she’ll tell everyone how well we look after our guests here!’

Gripping his arm, his mother’s icy voice accosted Arslan, ‘Is she married?’

‘Yes, Mother.’ Arslan’s answer was equally icy, his face rigid as he looked at her fingers pressing into his flesh. ‘She’s somebody else’s legal wife, not mine – if that’s what you want to hear? Allah Pak is my witness. I can say it with my hand on our
Holy Quran
if you like … I only met this woman three hours ago, at the airport, and that’s the truth, Mother!’ he ended, relieved to see his mother’s face relax. He reached forward to gently caress her right cheek, looking deep into her eyes.

‘I’ll never hurt or cause you any personal pain or embarrassment, Mother. And I’ll marry with your blessing, and someone from our clan – my countrywoman. That I can tell you now!’

‘What? Who?’ Gulbahar excitedly prompted, intrigued, her body suddenly light, wanting to fly into his arms.

‘Can’t say much at the moment, only that I care for her very deeply and will make her my wife, one day!’ The smile was that of a triumphant man, echoing once again the words he had vowed as a 13-year-old.

‘You sound so certain. Is it Nafisa?’

‘No!’

‘Bano?’

‘No!’

‘Will you not tell me?’

‘No, Mother. I don’t know if she’ll consider me yet. Today I know what I want. Everything I do will be with your blessing! You’ll witness your son’s
nikkah
!’

‘Please tell me who she is! Stop talking in riddles, Arslan!’

‘OK – somebody you know and love!’ he teased.

‘Tell me!’ Gulbahar cried in frustration.

‘No! I can’t until I have her permission. Now that you know where my marital inclinations lie, please treat this English guest
with the courtesy for which we are renowned. She deserves the best hospitality – as she’s a very special guest.’

Daniela stood listening; her ears were familiar with the rhythm of the Urdu language, although she did not understand what was being said.

‘I’ve just explained at length to my mother that there is nothing going on between us. Now, you can see how relaxed she is.’ Arslan switched to English.

‘Well, she’s wrong about us, but spot on in another way. I feel so strange being here, Arslan.’

Rani went to her daughter’s room and patiently waited. Saher was on the prayer mat, offering her midday
zuhr
prayers, with an extra set of thanksgiving
nafl
sequence for Ismail’s safe arrival. Prayers completed, Saher plucked off the white muslin scarf from her head, freeing the loose waves of hair to tumble down to her shoulders. Her mother’s eloquent eyes forced her shy gaze to fall to the car keys on the table, her heartbeat accelerating.

‘Ready?’

‘Yes.’ Saher would have liked to meet Ismail alone, shying away from the prospect of speaking to him in public.

‘We have a
goorie
in the house!’ Begum excitedly shouted to Ali as soon as she saw him.

‘A
goorie
?’ Aghast, his eyes widened. What was a goorie doing in this part of the world and in their master’s home? Their village wasn’t exactly a favourite international tourist spot despite its scenic surroundings.

‘Arslan brought her from the airport. A real
goorie
, Ali! With golden hair and milky white skin and …’ her voice lowered to a whisper, ‘naked legs.’

‘I see.’ Mind ablaze with images of bare flesh, Ali was deeply offended. Female modesty was something he dearly valued in the village women around him. In the city, he was always uncomfortable in the company of women with naked arms.

He wanted to condemn his wife’s excitement.

‘She has nothing to do with Arslan, in case you are jumping to any conclusions!’ Begum hastened to explain, accurately reading his mind. ‘If you think that she has followed him from America, then you are wrong. Arslan told us that she has lost her ticket and needed somewhere to stay … In fact, she was on the same plane as Master Ismail.’ She stopped, glimpsing a wary look enter her husband’s face. ‘What’s wrong, Ali?’ she croaked.

‘Nothing,’ he muttered, turning his face away, hiding his raw feelings.

‘Tell me, Ali?’

‘I said nothing, woman – leave it!’ He brutally cut her short, hearing footsteps outside the kitchen. ‘Don’t you dare open your mouth to anyone, or say anything about the
goorie
being here!’ Ali ordered, seeing the door open as Gulbahar entered the kitchen, catching his last words.

‘Is anything the matter, Ali?’ Gulbahar quietly enquired, confronted by the nervous look on both their faces.

‘No, Mistress,’ he muttered, hurrying to leave. From behind Gulbahar’s shoulders he signalled to his wife to zip her mouth. Begum stared blankly, her heart nearly exiting from her body, wondering at the new disaster about to assault this doom-ridden family. The
goorie
could only mean one thing – trouble!

‘Is everything all right, Begum?’ Gulbahar coaxed, determined to find out the truth.

‘Everything is fine, Mistress.’ Begum turned to chop the salad, wondering whether to slice rings or chop into small dice. She had not prepared a meal for an English guest before.

‘Use less chilli powder in the curry – we don’t know if this Englishwoman has tasted our food or has the strength for red chillies,’ Gulbahar instructed.

‘Mistress …’ Her runaway mouth had opened.

‘Yes, Begum?’

‘Who is this woman?’ The question hung heavily between the two: employer and employee – trusted lifelong friends.

‘She’s a visitor!’ Gulbahar’s gaze fixed sharply on Begum’s face.
‘What do you think? You heard what Arslan told us, he wouldn’t dare lie to me.’

‘Yes, but she came on the same plane as Ismail?’ Begum pressed, unable to stop herself, spurred by a niggling fear.

Silence.

Mithu’s repetitive chanting of ‘
salaam
’ from the courtyard was the only audible sound.

‘What are you insinuating, Begum?’ Gulbahar’s faint voice pelted.

‘I don’t know, but is there a connection?’ Begum’s eyes opened wider.

‘
A
connection
? Please don’t!’ Gulbahar beseeched,
panicstricken
for the second time in one day, desperately warding off the unwelcome thoughts and images prompted by Begum’s words.

‘I … I …’ Begum stuttered, but her mistress had already gone. Begum abandoned the half-cut tomato. In the courtyard she heard her mistress calling her son, her tone urgent. Begum hastened after her mistress into the guest room.

Daniela was lying on the bed with her legs dangling over the edge, cheeks wet, staring up at the swirling ceiling fan when Gulbahar and Begum entered. She sat up, blushingly pulling her skirt down over her bare knees. Gulbahar had one magical word poised on her lips.

‘Ismail!’ It performed its magic on the white woman. Daniela’s eyes grew large in her face and then she lowered her gaze. Heart thumping, Gulbahar swung her gaze to her woman helper, and repeated the word ‘Ismail!’ her eyes calmly fixed on the Englishwoman.

Daniela licked her lips, colour slowly reddening her cheeks, and stared back at Arslan’s mother.

Nausea heaving through her, Gulbahar fled outside. They had Ismail’s whore under their very own roof. Gulbahar leaned against the marble wall for support, gulping fresh air into her lungs.

‘Begum!’ she uttered. Her housekeeper’s face mirrored her own misgivings. ‘Our children will kill us.’

‘Mistress, you don’t know the truth …’

‘Begum, did you not see how she reacted to Ismail’s name? Allah Pak, what’s going to happen to my two sisters?’

‘I don’t know …’ Begum pitifully raised her hands in defeat, eyes brimming with tears.

‘What will we tell Saher?’

‘You’ll tell her nothing!’ Arslan harshly commanded from the veranda.

‘Whose
whore
have you brought to our home, Arslan? Tell me the truth! If she’s not yours, is she Ismail’s?’

‘She’s not a
whore
, Mother,’ Arslan shouted, outraged. ‘She’s someone very special in your nephew’s life. Are you ready to hear it?’ He waited, his eyes on their faces.

Gulbahar nodded, her head was dizzying to new heights.

‘She’s Ismail’s wife … not his whore!’ her son jeered. ‘Are you happy now?’

They weren’t ‘happy’ at all – he had crushed them. A whore was one thing, but a wife! Unthinkable. Saher!

Gulbahar gave up, seeking solace on her woman helper’s shoulders. Begum’s arms went protectively around her mistress. Arslan watched the two women locked in their grief with piteous eyes. ‘Please don’t tell Saher yet! It’ll kill her!’ he pressed.

‘Your sister destroyed our world ten years ago when she left this village. Today Ismail has done the same. Why does passion hit our families, Begum? What have we sisters done to deserve these misfortunes with our children?’

Arslan left the two women bewailing their lot. His thoughts were with his cousin, Saher.

Saher sat quietly beside her mother in the large drawing room, trying to recover her lost poise. Her fiancé had disappointed her. Although she hadn’t expected him to greet her with hugs, a cool smile and a shy hello didn’t quite merit years of patient waiting as his fiancée.

‘My son is even more shy than your Saher!’ Mehreen had paradoxically boasted, nudging her sister.

Rani nodded stiffly, not at all amused with Ismail’s behaviour.
In fact, she was downright fuming. Ismail hadn’t even bothered to greet her properly, and she was Saher’s mother! Is that what
velat
, foreign lands, did to people – turned warm blood into icy water?

The contours of Rani’s beautiful, unsmiling face grew harsher as the evening wore on – the grooves at the side of her mouth widened and her eyes hawked over Ismail. When Arslan entered the drawing room, mother and daughter noticed the exchange of pointed stares between the two cousins and watched him follow Ismail out of the room.

‘You had better face the consequences!’ Arslan burst out, pushing the bedroom door shut behind him, body aggressively poised. ‘The news about Daniela is going to reach this
hevali
soon.’

‘What have you told them?’

‘Mother and Begum found out. I’ve left them buried in shock and grief.’

‘That stupid bitch!’ Ismail spat, aghast. His auntie knew!

Arslan dived at his cousin, throwing his tight fist straight across his jaw. Ismail fell on the marble floor, reeling from the pain.

‘That was for using such an awful term for your wife and for wasting five years of our Saher’s life, you louse! I’ll not let you marry her! You don’t deserve her!’

‘I’m already married, you fool!’ Ismail stiffly reminded him, lifting himself up.

‘How could you do this to her and to your family?’

‘The same way that
your
Laila did with the potter’s son!’ Ismail taunted. ‘In your parents’ eyes she married beneath her. I married a woman from another race and country! So what?’

‘Yes, so what?’ Arslan jeered, eyes sparkling with pure hatred. ‘Laila damaged my family, just as you are now going to make two sisters into bitter enemies. Do you think Auntie Rani will ever forgive you for jilting her beloved only child, the
chirag
, the
noor
, the light of her life? Or that your parents will accept a
goorie
into their household, ever?’