by Sabina Khan
“I will, I promise. How is Sara? Did you figure out what you’re going to do yet?”
“Actually, we did. I told my parents.”
“So … how did that go?” It couldn’t have been as bad as my parents’ reaction.
“Well, let’s just say we were both right. They freaked out and threatened to disown me.”
“Seriously? What did you do?”
“I told them I would leave and they would never meet their grandchildren.” I could feel him grinning on the other end.
“That was bold. Good move though. Did they fall for it?”
“Of course … I knew they wouldn’t want to miss out on that. They asked to meet her, and she’s coming by this weekend.” I was happy for him. Truly happy.
“That’s really great. You have to tell me everything after they meet her. I wish I could be there.”
“It’s all going to work out, Rukhsana,” Irfan said. “I know it is. And you know you’re not alone.”
“I really appreciate it, Irfan. More than you can imagine. And I’ll be in touch very soon.”
We hung up and I felt a little bit better. Feeling buoyed by the knowledge that I wasn’t alone, I began to plan my escape.
The next morning, I found Mom and Dad talking to each other softly in the living room. When they saw me, they stopped. What now?
“Rukhsana, come here, we want to talk to you,” Mom said.
This can’t be anything good.
I came and sat down across from them.
“Rukhsana, your dad and I have decided that we’ve handled this poorly.”
A flicker of hope.
“We should have told you of our plans. But now that you know, let’s just be sensible about it.”
And it was snuffed out.
“What are you saying?”
“We want to give you options. We have found some suitable men. You can meet with them and make your own decision.”
Why do they look so pleased with themselves? Do they think this is a good solution?
“I’m not getting married,” I stated flatly.
“Of course not. We are not unreasonable,” said Mom.
Umm, I beg to differ.
“We want you to finish your education, obviously. No boy from a good family would agree unless you had at least a university degree,” said Dad.
I thought the degree was supposed to be for my benefit. What else have they been lying about? Everything?
I was about to say I had no intention of ever marrying a guy, so they shouldn’t hold their breath. But then I remembered that we’d had this argument already. Why did I expect a different result?
“Okay.” Did I really just say that?
“Good,” Dad said. “Now let Mom and I discuss further and we’ll let you know.”
His assumption that I would sit around and wait for them to “let me know” about my own life was so ludicrous that I almost laughed out loud. I would have, if I wasn’t seething inside. But I reminded myself it didn’t matter what they said. I wouldn’t be around for any of it. Because I was getting the hell out of here.
I needed to talk to Ariana and let her know what was going on. Hopefully Jen had talked to her and now she would pick up my call. I dialed and this time she answered right away.
“Ariana, where have you been? I was so worried.”
“I just needed to be alone for a while and figure things out.”
My heart sank.
“Ariana, please don’t—”
“Oh my God, Rukhsana, can you let me finish?”
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I’m listening.”
“I was thinking about what my mother said to me when we started going out. That you come from such a different world and how it would be so hard for us to be together because of that.”
When I didn’t say anything, she continued.
“And then I started thinking of all the things I love about you. And I realized that you are the way you are because of your differences. And I want to be with you. Even if it’s really hard sometimes.”
I let out a sigh of relief.
“I thought you’d decided to break up with me,” I said.
“I was really scared when you told me that your parents are trying to marry you off.”
“I’m really scared too, Ariana. You have no idea how bad things are here. But I have a plan.”
“Tell me what I can do to help,” she said.
“Just promise me that you won’t give up on us. The only thing that is keeping me from freaking out completely is that you’ll be there when I come home.”
“I could never give up on us, Rukhsana.”
I stuck my head out into the hallway to see if the coast was clear. Mom and Dad’s voices floated up the stairs. They must have been eating breakfast already.
I tiptoed quickly to their bedroom and searched for Mom’s purse, finding it on a chair by the mirror. I rifled through it, horrified to discover all our passports were gone.
Where the hell are they? Oh right, the safe.
She’d probably stashed them with the cash in the safe. There were two big cupboards in the room. I opened the one closest to me. It was filled with saris on suede hangers and a few men’s suits. But no safe.
The second one had a row of shalwar kameez suits and some tunic tops. And, hidden below, a safe. It was open, the key still hanging in the lock, probably because she’d taken money out for Dad’s hospital bill.
Our passports were all together bound by a rubber band. I took mine out and placed the rest back in the safe and closed the cupboard. Heart thumping in my chest, I hurried back to my room and buried my passport at the bottom of my purse.
Downstairs, I found Shaila by the front door.
“Are you ready?” she asked, adjusting her orna over her shoulders.
“Yes, I am. Just let me tell my parents.”
I found them in the living room poring over some papers. Probably information on potential grooms.
“Mom, Dad, I’m going shopping with Shaila.”
I hadn’t seen them both smile in a long time. They must really believe they had gotten through to me.
“Good, good, you two enjoy yourselves. And buy some nice outfits, okay?” Mom said.
An hour later, Malik brought the car to a stop outside an enormous cathedral of a building, completely encased in glass. In the parking lot, hordes of eager shoppers hurried from their luxury cars, through the suffocating heat, and into the cool interior of the mall, while their drivers looked for a shady spot to while away the time.
Across the street from the mall sat a sprawling colony of slums. A group of young, emaciated kids were playing with a nearly deflated ball, no doubt rescued from someone’s trash. I couldn’t help but feel wrong about shopping for extravagant clothing when those kids had nothing.
“We should be done in a couple of hours, Malik Bhai. Could you please be back by two o’clock?” Shaila asked the driver when he let us out by the entrance.
The heat was unforgiving as we made our way from the car and into the refreshingly air-conditioned interior of the mall. A glass elevator transported shoppers between the seven floors of the main atrium, which, from what I could tell, seemed to offer everything from electronics to herbal medicine.
“How do you ever get used to all of this?” I asked Shaila as we took the elevator to the upper level.
“What, this over-the-top mall?” Shaila grinned at me.
“No, just all the poverty and everything. How do you go around and not let it affect you?” I was still feeling guilty about being in an air-conditioned mall and then going back home to eat amazing food.
“Why do you think it doesn’t affect me?” Shaila said. “You’d have to be a monster to not let it affect you. But you also have to live your life. I do what I can, I volunteer, I give clothes and food regularly. But I can’t help everyone.”
I nodded. I was old enough now to know that this was a much bigger problem, one that requi
red a much bigger solution than just handing out food and clothes to some kids on the street.
“The thing is, Rukhsana, you are upset now because this is a shock to you since you’re not surrounded by it every day. And believe it or not, once you’re back in Seattle, it won’t be long before you get caught up in your own life and forget all about those kids. That’s just how it is.”
She was right. This was not anything new. It was just new to me, again, even though three years ago I’d seen the same things.
We stepped off the elevator on the seventh floor, where all the clothing stores were.
The displays in the shops were breathtaking. Pyramids of glass bangles in brilliant jewel tones sparkled under the artificial lighting, and mannequins draped in richly embroidered saris stood like sentries at the shop entrances. Although Seattle did have a small selection of shops catering to South Asians, nothing compared to the opulence displayed here.
“Let’s go look at some kurtas,” Shaila said, pulling me into a dimly lit store. Once my eyes adjusted to the subdued lighting, I found myself surrounded by mannequins dressed in dazzling tunics.
“I love this design,” I said, admiring one that was bright blue cotton with black block prints on it.
“It would look great with jeans, don’t you think?” Shaila said. “Want to try it on?”
“I don’t know if I’d wear it back home though,” I said, touching the soft fabric. “I usually wear a sari or shalwar kameez to Bengali functions.”
“Just try it on, you can decide later.” Shaila signaled one of the employees for assistance.
A few minutes later, I was in the dressing room with several other kurtas that Shaila had picked out, ready for my movie montage moment. For the next half hour, my problems took a back seat as Shaila and I took turns trying on clothes and modeling them for each other. I preened and posed like a Bollywood star, the Hindi music playing in the store acting as our own personal soundtrack, and felt utterly carefree in a way I hadn’t for a while now.
“Let’s get the one with the heavy embroidery,” Shaila said, slightly out of breath from laughing. “We have to bring back at least a couple of outfits to show your mom.”
I grimaced at the mention of my mother. It probably would be smart to get something she approved of. I picked out two, thinking that I could give them to Rokeya for one of her daughters later. At least someone should get to enjoy them, especially at my parents’ expense. We stopped at another store and picked up several simple cotton saris and children’s outfits to give away on our way back.
“Okay, let’s go find the travel agency now,” I said after we’d paid for our purchases. Shaila had checked to make sure there was one at this mall, and now we made our way there so that I could buy a one-way ticket to Seattle. There was a bounce in my step as we walked in, and a half hour later, I had booked my way home on the earliest flight that wasn’t already full. Four more days here, and then I would be back with Ariana.
Back at Nani’s house, I went straight to my room and pulled the passport out of my purse. I didn’t think it was a good idea to carry it around with me. If my purse got snatched, I’d be stuck here without a passport. I looked for a good hiding place, eventually putting it under my mattress. The chances of Mom looking under there were slim.
That evening Shaila had plans to go to a party at a college friend’s house. Surprisingly, her parents were fine with her going, and even more shockingly, my mom readily agreed when Shaila asked if I could go too.
“You’re going to have a great time,” Shaila said as Malik Bhai drove us there. “I know you love to dance.”
“I can’t wait to meet your friends,” I said, glad that I was going to be able to blow off some steam. “Thanks for letting me tag along.” I squeezed Shaila’s arm affectionately.
“You’re only here for four more days,” Shaila said. “I want to make the most of it.”
“Is Alam going to be there?” I whispered in her ear as the car came to a stop in front of a large house.
“Maybe,” she said with a mysterious grin.
I rolled my eyes at her as we got out of the car.
“Malik Bhai, you can go back home now. We’ll call when we’re ready to leave. It won’t be for at least three hours.”
As the car pulled away, we walked into a huge marble foyer with a large winding staircase leading to the second floor. I could hear music blaring from somewhere and smiled excitedly at Shaila when I recognized a song from one of my favorite movies, Dhoom.
“This is so cool. I haven’t been to a party with Bollywood music in a long time.”
“I knew you’d like it,” Shaila said. “Now come and meet my friends.”
A set of double doors in front of us opened and a few people spilled out into the foyer.
“Shaila, you made it.” I turned to see a petite girl with beautiful black hair walking toward us. She hugged Shaila first and then me.
“Rukhsana, this is my friend Tabassum,” Shaila said. “Tabassum, this is Rukhsana, my cousin from Seattle.”
Tabassum hugged me again. “I’m so happy you could make it, Rukhsana. Please come in. There’s tons of food, feel free to help yourself. And then join us on the dance floor.”
“Thank you so much for having me. Sorry I’m crashing your party,” I said.
“Not at all. Shaila’s been talking about you for some time now and I’m so happy to meet you.” She turned to Shaila. “Shaila, there’s someone special who’s been waiting for you to get here,” she said in a singsong voice. “Go say hi and then get some food.”
She ushered us into a large living room. All the furniture had been pushed against the walls to make room for dancing. One group of people was showing off some serious moves as they danced to “Laila Main Laila,” another one of my favorite Bollywood songs. I was mesmerized. This was so different than the desi parties I went to in Seattle. Maybe my parents had found the dullest social circle to hang around in. Here, there were no grown-ups, at least not that I could see. At our parties, the grown-ups always stuck around so all of us young people had to pretend to be aunty-loving teens. Which we weren’t. But this was cool. The music was pulsing through me and my legs were willing me to go and join the group of people on the makeshift dance floor. But Shaila was pulling me in the opposite direction.
“Come and meet Alam,” she said, guiding me into the next room. She didn’t even have to point him out to me. He was the one whose face lit up the moment we walked in.
“He’s really hot,” I said, having to speak rather loudly over the music coming from the next room. Unfortunately, the music cut out at that exact moment and the entire room heard my comment. I felt the blood rushing to my cheeks as the other people in the room turned to stare at me. Shaila just shook her head, and when I finally glanced at Alam, he was grinning, looking entirely too pleased with himself. Thankfully the music started up again and people resumed their conversations.
“Alam, this is my cousin Rukhsana,” Shaila said.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Alam said, still beaming. He was dressed casually in a kurta and jeans, his curly hair tousled, but it was his eyes that caught my attention. They were kind eyes and I understood immediately why Shaila was in love with him. She was the kindest person I knew, and at that moment I felt true happiness for her and Alam.
Just then Tabassum joined us.
“Come and dance with us, you guys,” she urged, pulling Shaila gently by the arm.
I didn’t need to be asked twice, and we all went into the next room to join the fun.
I was a little out of touch with the latest Bollywood hits since Seattle was not exactly a hub for Hindi music, but that didn’t stop me from having a blast. After a couple of songs, my throat was parched, and I went off in search of a drink. When I came back, a slow song was playing, and my eyes drifted to Shaila and Alam. They were dancing, their heads close together, completely lost in each other. I was thankful for this time with Shaila, to see her so ha
ppy with the one she loved. A sad thought came unbidden to my mind. Once I left, there was a very good possibility that I might not see Shaila or Nani again for a very long time. Shaila’s mom would make sure to keep her away from my bad influence. And Nani couldn’t exactly get around by herself these days. Tears sprang to my eyes and I quickly left to find some privacy. The last thing I wanted was to ruin this evening for Shaila. I knew that the times she could see Alam were precious and too few. I found a bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. I looked at my reflection in the mirror as I carefully dried my face with a towel. On the outside, I looked exactly the same as I had four weeks ago, before I’d come here. But on the inside, so much had changed that I felt like I was looking at a stranger. I was about to take a step that would irrevocably alter the course of my life. Once I ran away from here there was no turning back. My parents would probably kick me out of the house for ruining their reputations. Many in the Bengali community in Seattle would warn their children to stay away from me. I knew that Irfan and Sara would help me, but I would still lose any semblance of normalcy. What if my parents forbade Aamir from seeing me? He could defy them, but he was just fifteen. There was only so much he could do. Could I bear to live my life without my family, my brother, my community in it?
A knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts. It was just as well. I really didn’t need to have doubts right now. Not when I was this close to getting away.
By the time we got home it was past eleven and the world had not yet imploded. Mom and Dad were in the living room chatting with Tanveer Mama and Nusrat Mami when we walked in. Mom looked relaxed and nothing like she did when I got home late in Seattle. No lectures on the disaster that could befall the family of a Muslim girl who stayed out late at night doing God knows what.
“How was the party? Did you enjoy yourselves?” Mom asked, smiling indulgently.
“Yes, Zuby Phupi, we had a really great time,” Shaila said. “Rukhsana got to meet some of my friends too.”
“Good, that is very nice.” Mom nodded approvingly. “Do you girls want anything to eat?”
