Moni Mohsin - Duty Free

“Hmm,” she said, “you are looking a bit pulled down.”

She herself was looking quite, you know, bouncy. Hair blow-dried, lipsticked, scented, walking and talking fast like she used to before. Like the fat, happy Mulloo before Tony’s factories ran into trouble. One box of brownies was for me and one for Mummy. To thank us for pointing her in the right direction.

“You know, I was about to lose my mind when I came to see you that day,” she said. “I didn’t know which way to turn. Everything seemed to be falling on my head. You know, na, that things have been a little bit hard for Tony and me? With his business, I mean. Money’s been a bit tightish. So I thought, chalo never mind, I won’t buy so many clothes and I’ll cut down on our expenses and help Tony out a bit by doing some catering on the side and I’ll make do. And I was okay, you know. Not happy, but okay. But then that terrible day happened and that bloody bastard took my kitty and my pearls, and I just fell apart. And when Irum told me about this boy I just thought, now this is limit. Now I’m going to die. But then I came to you and your mother and you fixed it. You fixed everything.”

“ Haw Mulloo, you tau speak as if me and Mummy, we were mechanics.”

“No really, if you hadn’t suggested we meet Zain—”

“You never even told me he lives in Toronto.” If I’d known even for one second that he was from there I’d never have let Mummy tell her to call him and be nice.

“I didn’t know myself. I only found out after your mother told me to call him over. I just thought he would be a typical DVD -wallah , you know, with no money, no family, no connections.”

“He has money?” Honestly, it will be too unfair if he is rich also.

“To be frank, no. I haven’t asked a lot. Doesn’t look nice, na , to poke around too much. But from the things he’s said, I think his mother works in a department store and the father is a salesman for a carpet company. They all moved to Toronto about six years ago. And they had to sell everything to make the move. Not like Jammy and Baby and all, who keep Canadian passport just in case. But don’t tell anyone, please.”

Department store. Salesman. Thanks God. I breathed out quietly. At least, he’s not rich also. That would be just too much.

“So when’s the wedding?” I asked, just to tease her.

“Irum’s seventeen, for God’s sake. She has to finish college first. And even though Zain is sweet and really, it was he who helped us look at everything differently and made us all so much happier, still we don’t know his family or anything. To be honest, I’m not sure they’re our sort of people. He’s mentioned his aunt and cousins that he’s staying with here and you know, I haven’t heard of any one of them. Not even one. I don’t think they move in our circles. And then Zain is also only eighteen. You know he wants to study films in college? Not business, not law but films. I mean, what a waste of time, no? What do you think it’s like? You take exams on Pretty Woman ? You do homework on the Titanic ? No, I don’t think Zain will ever be rich. Pity, you know, because he’s so nice. No, I’m quite happy Irum meeting him in her own house under her parents’ eyes but no talk of marriage please.”

“Irum’s okay with that?”

“You know that big hoo-ha she made about killing herself if we didn’t allow her to marry him? Well, it was all drama. The minute I did what your Mummy said, and started inviting Zain and being nice to him, she never mentioned it again. I think he’s also made it clear to her that this is just, you know, friendship.”

“ Chalo , Mulloo. It seems like it’s all worked out for you, haan. ”

“But this catering business. I’m still not hundred per cent sure. I know lots of people are making so much in event managing, but don’t you think people will say, ‘Look at the poor thing, she has to work’?”

“If you really want the truth, Mulloo,” I said carefully, “it’s not something I would ever do.”

“We all know that you don’t have any talent. I was asking about me . But never mind, I’ll ask Sunny instead. In any case, she knows more about the real world.” And with that she picked up her big bottom from my bed and swinging her bag strap in her hand, bounced out before I could say anything. “Oh, by the way,” she called from the door, “remember Tasbeeh, Farva’s daughter? Last week she eloped with her cousin-brother, the one she’d had an engagement with. Thought you might like to know. Byeee.”

Look at her! Saying I have no talent. And after everything I’ve done for her. Saving her from that fundo. Giving her Zain. Not taking her maid. And this is how she repays me. Mummy is right. Leopards never change their dots. I know what I’ll do, I’ll put it into Irum’s head that she must marry Zain. That will serve Mulloo right. As soon as I recover from this dengue fever that’s just what I’ll do.

I think so, Jonkers has cracked. Properly and completely. He charged in all hot and panting into my sitting room, where worst luck, Janoo and Kulchoo were also sitting playing chess and burst out, “I’m marrying Sana. I proposed to her,” he looked at his watch, “forty-two minutes ago.”

“Wow!” said Janoo, looking up from the board. “Good on you.”

“Congratulations, Uncle Jonkers.” Kulchoo slapped him on the back.

“Don’t be crack, Jonky,” I said. “You can’t.”

“Who is Sana?” asked Janoo.

“She is the woman I love.” Sometimes I think Jonky mistakes himself for Shahrukh in Om Shanti Om . The dialogues he gives!

“When’s the wedding?” asked Kulchoo. “Can I be your sarbala ? I quite fancy being your best boy. Also I’m running low on funds these days. Fifty thousand in presents from the extended family should do me nicely.”

“Excellent. Jonkers, you have my vote of confidence,” said Janoo, making a move on the board. “Good luck.”

“Did you take permission from Aunty Pussy before?” I asked.

“No,” said Jonkers.

“Well, then, you can’t. Go back to Sana just now and tell her it was bad mistake because you forgot to ask your mother first.”

“Why, in God’s name, must he do that?” asked Janoo looking up from the board again.

“You play your game, ji ,” I snapped.

But Janoo, when he wants, can be as stubborn and as irritating as an ingrown hair.

“Explain yourself,” Janoo said to me.

“You won’t understand,” I said.

“Try me.”

“Yeah, Mum, explain yourself,” said Kulchoo.

“My mother and even Apa here think that I’m incapable of finding a wife for myself. A suitable one that is,” said Jonkers.

“And why is that?” Janoo looked at me.

I crossed my arms across my chest and looked away. “You know why,” I muttered.

“Because Shumaila left me,” Jonkers said.

“So?” said Kulchoo. “My friend Ahad’s mum left his dad three times. And his mum isn’t even—”

“It’s not because Shumaila left,” I said, ignoring Kulchoo. “In fact we tau give hundred, hundred thanks to God she ran away. It’s because you chose her in the first place that worries us, Jonkers. Obviously you don’t know what’s what. So what did Sana say? I bet anything she must have jumped on you. Elderly girl like her — how old is she, twenty-nine? Thirty? — with no proposals. She tau must have thought it—”