Moni Mohsin - Duty Free

Sana didn’t shrink. She met his eyes and in a quiet but hard-type voice asked him to sit down. The feudal ignored her. Jonkers flung down his magazine and stood up. I tugged at his trouser leg to stop him — you never know with feudals, yaar , they may have gunmen waiting outside; after all, not all of them are decent, peaceful Oxen types running charity schools like Janoo. But he shook my hand off and in two strides he was at her desk.

“Is everything okay, Sana?” he asked, staring angrily at the feudal. The feudal glared back. I said a prayer under my breaths. Please, Allah Mian , don’t let there be a phudda . Because the feudal would make minced meat of poor old Jonkers. I looked around me. There was a small glass-topped table lying by my side. If the feudal grabbed Jonkers, I’d pick up the table and crash it onto the feudal’s head.

“Yes, everything’s fine, thank you, Mr. Ahmed. Why don’t you have a seat on the sofa over there while I explain a few facts to Mr. Shah here?”

“Are you sure?” asked Jonkers, still eyeing the feudal.

“Quite sure, thanks.” I could see Jonkers wanted to still hoover by Sana’s desk but the look she gave him made him return reluctantly to the sofa besides me. Thanks God. Never knew shy old Jonkers had it in him to behave like Shahrukh Khan.

“So you see, Mr. Shah,” Sana said to the feudal in her cool but hard-type voice, “your son had to wait six hours because he missed the flight I’d booked for him. I have all the paperwork here. This was his flight, EK01, departing Dubai for London at 11 a.m. He had a confirmed reservation. Business class. I’d even had his seat allocated, as you can see here. But he showed up after they had closed the flight. He called me from the check-in desk in a panic and demanded that I get him on to that very same plane. I tried but as I said, the gate was closed by then and as you probably know, they are very strict at Dubai airport. Not like here. He’d also rubbed the Emirates people up the wrong way by making some bizarre accusations so they weren’t in any mood to oblige him when he demanded a seat on the next flight. So when he called me it wasn’t easy to find him a seat — business class, again — on the next available flight but I managed. The flight was meant to leave two hours later but unfortunately there was a delay because of security concerns and it didn’t take off for another four hours. The wait, I’m afraid, was unavoidable. I’m sure if you ask him about the circumstances, he will explain. Meanwhile I’ll give you a photocopy of his old ticket as well as the new reservation I made for him and you can look through them at your own leisure.”

The moustachioed man snatched the papers out of Sana’s hand. Then he turned around and marched out. On the way out, he threw dirty looks at Jonkers and me. Me and Jonkers, we both glared back. Cheapster. Who did he think he was?

After that Sana called us up to her desk. One thing I will say for her. Her father may have been only a branch manager of a bank — and that also a local bank — but she is full of confidence. Not for a minute did she look scared by that feudal. Jonkers had told me that I had to ask about tickets to America. He said that she wouldn’t like it if I said I’d just come to check her out. “She’s not a prize cow, you know,” he’d said to me, “and she won’t like it if we treat her like that. So we must make up a story.”

“Are you okay?” said Jonkers to Sana. “I’m sorry about that rude man.”

Sana shrugged. “No big deal. I come across them all the time.” And then she smiled at Jonkers and added, “But I appreciate the concern.” Then she looked at me. “Hello, I’m Sana Raheem. I’m sorry you had to wait.”

Jonkers introduced us and told her that I wanted to enquire about some flights.

“Sure. Can I offer you a drink?” she asked me. “Coffee? We do good cappucino here. Or would you prefer something cold? Some iced tea perhaps?”

“Coffee please,” I said.

“And for you, Jehangir?”

“Same,” said Jonkers, with a goofy smile.

She gave the order on her inner-com and then she asked, “Right, what can I do for you?”

“Er, I want to go to America,” I said.

“Where in America?” Behind her I saw a big poster of the White House and underneath it it said Washington.

“Um, Washington.”

“And when were you intending to travel?”

“In summers,” I replied. “We always go abroad in the summers. Gets too hot here, na . And bore also. Because all our friends also go away to London and Swizzerland and America and all.”

“So June? July? You are very organized to be booking your holiday so far in advance. May I ask how many of you will be travelling?”

“Three. Me and my husband and our son.”

“And your son is?”

“Kulchoo. Otherwise tau his real name is—”

“Sorry. I meant, how old is he?”

“He was fifteen on his last birthday. In May. He’s a Taurus.”

“So full fare. Just flights or hotels as well? Would you like me to book any flights within the US also or just to Washington and back? And would that be business class or economy?”

I looked at Jonkers and gave him a small frown. Why did she have to ask so many questions? Honestly, so nosy. Next she’ll be asking me my bra size.

Sana caught my frown at Jonkers and looked from me to him. Another thing I will say about her: she’s sharp. Just like Jameela was.

Jonkers cleared his throat. “My cousin’s here to make some, er, general enquiries. She wanted to have an idea of what’s out there. She doesn’t necessarily want to book just yet. Isn’t that right, Apa?”

I frowned at him again. How many times have I told him not to call me Apa? Stuppid. Now she’ll think I’m seventy.

“Yes,” I said, “that’s right, Jonkers. ” I bet he hadn’t told her his pet name is Jonkers. From the way her lips twitched I could tell I was right.

Jonkers’ face flashed red.

“So you’d like to fly into Dulles?” asked Sana.

“Washington, not Dallas,” I said. She might be sharp in some ways, but in others this girl was quite simple-minded, really. Poor thing.

Jonkers coughed and flashed again. Must be embarrassed for her.

Sana nodded at me and said, “Of course. My mistake.”

The drinks came. The coffee was very nice. All hot and fluffy.

“The coffee is very nice,” I said. “And office also.”

“Thanks. Glad you approve.”

“You’re not having?” I asked.

“What? Coffee? No, I have to restrain myself because with the hours I work, if I had a coffee every time a client had one, I’d be climbing the walls.”

“And going all the time to toilet also,” I added.

“Yes,” she laughed, “that too.”

“So how long do you work?”

“I’m here by nine and leave around six, sometimes seven. But luckily I live close by so I’m home in five minutes.”

“Where do you live?”

“Canal Park.”

“Oh,” I said. Canal Park is a not-so-nice area of Gulberg. Small plots, tight houses, hardly any gardens. But chalo , at least it’s Gulberg and not Ichhra.

“You work too hard,” said Jonkers.

“But I enjoy it,” she replied. “And it makes me relish my holidays all the more.”

“You must be going abroad on all your holidays?” I asked.

“I wish!” She laughed again. “But our last holiday was quite special. It was my sister’s tenth birthday so I managed to get a great deal on a holiday in Langkawi, in Malaysia. We swam in the sea, did some snorkelling, diving, I even organized a guide to take my sister, mother, and me on a short trek through the jungle. It was fantastic,” she sighed. “We saw gibbons and hornbills and the most amazing butterflies, big as my hand, and trees so tall they seemed endless …”