This is complete utter crap. I’m so sick of this! He’s lucky he’s not here…because IF he was…I’d deck him. And I’d smile broadly as he lay sprawled at my feet.
3 days ago,I got dropped off by Kamran, the chauffeur who was essentially a mute incommunicative drone.
I’m one of two people who reside currently in this monstrosity of a house.
Of course, how could it be anything else?
Where’s the family? Wasn’t this the time that was to be afforded for me to get to know his family?
As for my roommate, her footsteps barely register. She comes and goes and at times it’s so eerily quiet that I can hear the chiming of the grandfather clock on the main level or the shifting of the wind outside amongst the trees. This house is inhabited by an old hindu woman, a housekeeper, who speaks a bare minimum of Hindi. Communicating with her became the ultimate exercise in futility. Her accent is NOT the type anyone could understand. And mine for her? Forgetaboutit!
2 days ago, Imran came by. I had unpacked, settled in and taken a walk around the house, the gardens and rung my family to let them know all was well. I was left exploring this library that seems to have two sections, politics and Islamic teachings housed within its bookshelves. Neither of these subjects were something that I particularly wanted to read about. But, out of sheer desperation, I did so. Seeing my fire-snapping eyes and the tension in my body, Imran opted to take me on a bit of a field trip.
‘Let’s go.’
‘Where,’ I asked.
‘To show you around our fair city.’
‘Ok, let’s do it!’ Finally, I’ll see SOME action!
Kamran,onceagain at our disposal, chauffeured us into Central London. It was truly a
Whirlwind.
I remember a scarf bought on Bond street. Pictures taken on a ledge overlooking St.Paul’s Cathedral. Bengali men harking lower and lower prices with each sign above showing an “award winning chef” at Brick Lane. I think I bought a belt there also. A big zircon studded one.
At Green Street there was bhel puri…my mouth lights on fire just thinking back on it!
And at SouthHall, there was an exchange between Imran and 2 punjabi men. They seemed angry but I got the CD and the shawls I wanted.
Pictures were taken again in front of Big Ben and then my second favourite, a leisurely tour of all 3 Museums in Central London. Trafalgar Square promised more pictures however no pigeons. The lack thereof made walking that much easier around the Square. And finally, Imran was sweet enough to wait around outside in the car while I popped into the South Kensington Isma’ili Centre to do a quick Du’a for Shukran to Allah.
After my visit to the Isma’ili Centre, Imran and I went to dinner at a Lebanese restaurant that had some great music playing. The food was phenomenal and his stories of University life spent with Farid and their earlier attempts at business were quite entertaining.
‘Gulzar, Farid should really be here with you today.’
I sit back, observe this barrister whose been my tour guide cum babysitter. He’s smart, has a stellar personality, tall,handsome and yet he’s essentially acting as Farid’s lackey. Why?
‘Yes, your right Imran, Farid SHOULD be here.’
‘I’m sorry. This is a bloody piss poor time to leave you, but, I suppose you should know, he’s quite focused when it comes to career. His work schedule is such that you’ll never really see him at home at 5pm… 9pm is more likely.’
‘I’m starting to realize that Farids’ focus and commitment, while quite impressive, is one which may indeed cause issues as far as work/life balance comes in.’
‘You’re a strong,intelligent woman, if anyone can get him to find that balance, I think you can.’
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence,Imran,however, let’s wait and see what the rest of the month has in store.OK?’
‘Most definitely. I have a feeling things are going to be very interesting and positive for everyone.’
I smile but internally I think…we’ll see.
He smiles back.
Day 4:
I’ve opted to do some planting of some garlic and herbs. If I’m going to spend a month here, I’d rather keep myself busy. What better way than to do some gardening and cooking?
There’s a ruckus in the front.I hera it in the outdoor side garden. I take off my gloves and walk inside. It’s two ladies, one has a dupata on her head. She looks to be small, birdlike and she’s darker…definitely Indian. The second is a tall woman, mid 40’s, she’s use to being in charge.Large voice and she’s busy getting all the bags unloaded. She turns around and I see the eyes. The tightness around her mouth. She’s gotta be Farid’s sister. But whose the Indian woman? She’s not old enough to be his mum…so who is she?
‘Gulzar’ says the tallish of the two women.
‘Yes, that’s me.’ I reply
‘Hello, I’m Baaghi Amina, Farid’s eldest sibling.’
I thought he was the eldest, ’Nice to meet you Amina, I’m Gulzar.’
Amina steps aside and slowly walks up the birdlike creature. ‘Salaam beti, I’m Farids ammi. I’ve seen your photos and Farid’s told me about you. I’m so happy to welcome you to our family.’
I walk up and am thoroughly confused. How can this lady be his mummi? She’s not old enough, she’s not at all physically similar to Farid,nor to Amina. What’s going on?
‘Walikum as salaam aunti. I’ve looked forward to meeting you as well.’
Farid’s mum motions for a hug and I bend down to give her one. She can’t possibly be more than a hundred pounds.
We go into the formal parlor and tea is brought around. Farid’s mum catches my questioning look at her and laughs. ‘No, I’m not Farid’s biological mom. His ammi died when he was in his early teens. His father and I married shortly after her death and Farid’s Abbu brought me to Islamabad from Bihar when I was 17 yrs old. I have raised Farid as well as Amina and their other siblings ever since. In return they’ve chosen to call me Ammi.’
I stare. A child-bride no wonder she barely looks old enough. She’s what…5 possibly 7 yrs older than Farid? My goodness, what a tale she must have to tell! I smile and say, ‘Wow that must have been quite a time period.’
She looks over. At first quiet and then smiles…broadly. ‘Yes, you are indeed just what our Farid needs.’
I look at her a bit perplexed but turn my attention in time to Amina. She’s sitting and yet looks as if she’s about to spring up at any moment.
A few more questions are bandied back and forth until the chauffeur comes in. Amina immediately jumps up to ask another new addition, a female one, to have the bags sent up to rooms which I somewhat remember from a tour on my first day.
After Amina and Farid’s mum retire I go back to the garden. We’re to meet for dinner so I’ve a few hours to spend on my own until I need to dress.
Coming down the wide staircase from dressing, I look up to see that Kamran is dressed in a white shalwar kameez. He motions for me to walk to my right, towards what I remember to be a formal dining room. It’s empty in the dining room, however I hear voices in the kitchen. After a few seconds deliberation, I walk into the kitchen. Inside is Amina, her mother and the housekeeper all sitting around the island exploding in laughter. I walk up and say my Salaams. They ask me to join them and we sit in companionable conversation while dinner commences. It’s quite informal and I’m glad that I can let my guard down and observe both women in a more relaxed, natural state. Suddenly, I finally realize why I’ve had such issues communicating with the housekeeper. She only speaks Punjabi, as I don’t speak any, our inability to communicate is now finally understandable!
The three of them however, are able and do communicate. Amina and her mom take the time to translate either in Urdu or in English. I don’t say much, I’m happy enough to observe and watch the interaction.
The next morning as I come down and start to walk outside for my morning run, my future MIL calls my name out. I walk into the study and come upon her sitting with a needle and thread overlooking the front open windows. She looks atme and smiles.
‘Salaam aunti.’
‘Walikum as salaam beti. Have you had your nashta yet?’
‘Not yet. I prefer to get in a run prior to breakfast in the morning.’
‘Just as well, run along then. I’ll have Priya have nashta ready when you get back. An hour work for you?’
‘Yes, that should be sufficient.’
I say Salaam and walk out. It’s quite balmy out for a Sept morning and I’m soaking wet by the time I walk up the front steps. As I turn the doorknob to enter, Imran comes into the foyer.
I’m embarrassed. I’m smelly and soaking wet and he looks dressed for the office. Crap!
‘Good morning Gulzar Jee.’
‘Ah, salaam Imran.’ I don’t meet his eyes specifically trying to sprint upstairs. I wonder if it’ll be too rude of me to just turn and bolt. Frack…I hate situations like these!
Idiot stands with his arms clenched behind him, with that silly smirk on his face. He’s looking at me, I know, I can feel it!
‘Imran, listen, I’d love to continue this conversation, however, I really need to get showered and dressed before my mother-in-law has nashta ready.’
‘Not a problem, I’ll see you when you get back downstairs. Do take your time. We’ll all wait.’
I look at him like he’s grown another head but I don’t have time. I can’t possibly be late to the first breakfast with my future mother-in-law!
I think as I speed downstairs,that must have been the fastest I ever have gotten ready. I can still somewhat smell the burn from the straightener in my slightly damp hair!
‘Hello Gulzar. It’s nice to see such enthusiasm from you at my return.’
I look up shocked.It’s him!
*boom*
OMG please oh please Allah please make me disappear into the floorboards!
Ameen…DOUBLE AMEEN!
‘Oh goodness are you all right?’
I look up. I’m laying sprawled on the marble floor,staring into Farid’s concerned face. His brow is furrowed. Suddenly, my knee burns and I feel warmth around my left elbow.
I’ve, of course, at this point turned BEET red. He’s suppose to be sprawled at MY feet, NOT me at his! WTH!!!
‘Beta, is she all right? Should we call a doctor?’
‘No ammi, I think she’ll be fine. Let me take her to the study. Perhaps we can have brunch served in there?’
Yup, I managed to land in a heaping sprawled mess after tumbling ¾ of the way down the stupid wooden staircase. Damnit! And now, my body is on fire!
Farid helps me to my feet and then helps while I lean on him and hobble to the study. I’m mortified. I wish one could die of embarrassment.
As I settle in on the couch, he raises my foot and puts it above a pillow. I’m now immobile and highly uncomfortable. I look down at the burning and see there is a slow oozing of blood from above my elbow. I gingerly move it and wince. It hurts, a hell of a lot.
Farid notices and takes his kerchief out to apply pressure to my injury. I stare at his fingers and the pressure he’s exerting. I look up and realize not only is he staring at me but so is Imran. Amina’s managed to follow everyone into the room and she and my MIL are standing next to the opposite couch patiently waiting.
My eyes go back to Farid and I realize my eyes have dilated. I’m not angry but I am surprised that he’s back.
He leans in to check on my elbow, ‘I’ll remember never to surprise you when your rushing round. We wouldn’t want you continually injuring yourself on account of me.’
I look back at his face and his smirk and wink have my face turning tamatar red.
*groan* Why o why does this man have such an effect on me?
I look back at him and my eyes narrow, suddenly my elbow is enflamed.
‘OUCH!’
‘Beta,your hurting her, be careful!’ says my mother-in-law.
I look him straight,dead in the eye. He looks back and mutters, ‘Two can play this game. You sure you’vegot what it takes?’ I smile back, ‘Most definitely, bring it on!’
He turns his head around and says loudly, ‘Sorry ammi. I think we need some peroxide and gauze. Gulzar seems to be quite the bleeder!’
Thirty minutes later, we’re all settled and everyone’s enjoying an early brunch. I’ve abstained as I don’t think I could eat much with the headache I seem to have pounding in the back of my head.
‘Beta, do you want Farid to help you with some khana?’
‘No auntie,I think I’ll be fine. I do however think I need to go upstairs and lay down. I seem to be getting quite a headache.’
‘Sure. Farid, take Gulzar to her room.’
I turn red once again. This is going from bad to worse!
Suddenly Farid leans across and puts his plate down. He stands up and pulls me into his arms. I give a slight yelp and feel as if I’m a sack of potatoes.
He looks down at me and smiles. I hang on for dear life. My heads spinning, my arm is burning and my leg feels as if someone’s cut off the blood circulation to it. I close my eyes and realize I’m about to either faint or throw up.
‘Oh dear.’
I look up and say, ‘What?What’s wrong?’
‘Remember stateside when I said that the red on your face wasn’t becoming on you? Well, that particular shade of green that you seem to be enfused with, isn’t quite becoming either.’
I look at him and suddenly I’m beyond pissed off. ‘Well, perhaps if you were a better host, I wouldn’t be here broken,bruised and battered. No thanks to you!’
‘Will you run and tell your mum now?’
My eyes get bigger and suddenly, I throw up. It’s all over me as well as all over his black jacket and his pink shirt.
‘Oh,bloody hell!’
I look up supremely satisfied. I smile and promptly pass out.
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