Moni Mohsin - Duty Free

“Why?” I asked. “What’s the rush?”

“Kaukab is at home,” she snapped. As if he ever goes out anywhere.

“He’ll be fine, Pussy,” said Mummy. Aunty Pussy gave her a killer look. Good. Mummy was moving to my side also. About time.

And then Mummy said to Sana, “What do you do, beta ?”

“I run a travel agency.”

“Must be lot of responsibility and hard work also,” said Mummy.

“She works ver -ry hard,” said Noor. “Goes in the morning and doesn’t come home till the evenings. Sometimes she gets so late that Mummy and I, we get so worried, we wait at the gate. Mummy says we mustn’t call, because she is probably busy. But on Sundays we have fun, don’t we, Apa? We go swimming and we play tennis and carom and watch movies and—”

“Swimming? Tennis? Here? ” Aunty Pussy looked unbelievably around the small room as if Noor had said they shoot Bollywood films there every Sunday.

“Obviously not in this room, Pussy,” said Mummy.

“My late husband was a member of Punjab Club,” said Zahra. “After he passed away I applied for membership. It was our one luxury but I was determined not to give it up. It was what my husband would have wanted. He was very sporty himself and encouraged the girls to do lots of sport.”

“We also did snorkelling in Langkawi last year and Apa even went diving,” added Noor. “They didn’t let me dive because I was too little. But Apa promised me when I was sixteen, she’d take me again. Didn’t you?”

“My Jonkers had asthma as a child,” announced Aunty Pussy. “So I never let him play any games. And he’s not one bit interested in it either. I also think it’s waste of time. And money.”

“My husband and son tau just love it,” I said quickly. “They also play tennis and go swimming and when they go to the village they do riding — on horses you know—”

“You have horses ?” squealed Noor.

“Yes, in my husband’s village. I don’t go there much because I find it a bit bore to be honest, but if you like I’ll take you all. You must come and stay, Zahra Apa, you and Sana and Noor. I think so, you’ll like it. There are lots of skies there that you can paint. And, Sana, you like wildlife, don’t you? There’s loads of cows and sheep and horses and goats there. You must come, definitely. Maybe in Christmas holidays? Or even better, on the weekend because, honestly, I can’t take more than three days of village. I’m not like you, Sana, into nature and things. Sorry haan ? You must meet my husband, by the way. I don’t know why, but I have a feeling that both of you will get along very well.”

Sana laughed and Zahra said thank you, I was very kind and Noor asked if we could go next weekend and Mummy smiled and Aunty Pussy suddenly stood up and said angrily, “I’m leaving. Goodbye.” And walked out.

Let her go, I thought. Let her sit in the car and steam in her own anger. Good radiance! But then Mummy also slowly got to her feet with a sorry-type smile and said that she had enjoyed meeting them all very much and that the tea had been very nice and that she better go after Pussy because she hasn’t been feeling very well, na . So then I stood up also but I didn’t give a sorry-type smile and I didn’t make any loser-type excuses. Not at all. I kissed Sana and I kissed Noor and I went up to Zahra Apa and I took her hands in mine and I looked her in the eyes and told her what a lovely family she had and how lucky Jonkers would be to become a part of it. If they wanted him, that was. Because you know something? Suddenly I knew where I stood. And it certainly wasn’t with Aunty Pussy. It was with Jonkers and Janoo.

“Drop me at home,” Aunty Pussy ordered in the car.

“No, you’re coming home with me,” I said. “And Mummy, you too.” I must have said it in a dictator-type voice because neither of them did any arguing.

Once I got home, I took them to the sitting room, called Ameena, sorry Shameem, and told her to tell anyone who called for me that I wasn’t home and then I told the bearer to tell the guards the same outside and I sat Mummy and Aunty Pussy down and then I gave them some pieces of my mind.

I told them I knew how upset they’d been at Jonkers’ secret marriage to Miss Shumaila. I had been also. I also knew how much they wanted him to marry a nice rich girl from a nice rich bagground. I had wanted it also. But if I was to put my hand on Kulchoo’s head and say truthfully why I’d wanted it, it was because I thought it would make my name heavy in the world and get me more respect from my kitty group. I wasn’t thinking of Jonkers’ happiness, I was thinking of my own. And okay there might be some very nice rich girls hiding in the world somewhere but the two or three we had met were not right for Jonkers. And the girl that he had found for himself was just right — strong, brave, loyal, and loving. She would be on his side.

“Yes,” snapped Aunty Pussy. “Like that thief Shumaila was on his side.”

“Pussy,” said Mummy. “Shumaila is over. I’m sure Jonkers also knows now that she was not right for him.”

“You can stop lecturing me, you mother and daughter. What about all the other two-bit girls that he liked before and would have married, married , if I hadn’t saved him?”

“Maybe, Aunty Pussy, he’s never felt comfortable with the types you wanted for him,” I said. “Because he had nothing to say to them and he wasn’t their type either. Tell me, what could he have said to that rude, spoilt Tanya? Haan? She didn’t even bother to look at him, let alone make talk with him. Had he married her he would always have been like a servant in their house. And as for that poor Tasbeeh, she looked so unhappy herself, you honestly think she was going to make him happy? And you remember that day he came to the wedding with us to look at the girls we thought were right for him, he looked so uncomfortable, standing behind your seat, suffering silently in his suit.”

“He was comfortable with Shumaila? With her stealing his car? And my jewels?”

“Again, Pussy,” sighed Mummy. “Again you’re bringing up Shumaila. She’s in the past. Look at the future.”

“At what? At a two-bit travel agent?”

“Yes,” I said, “at a travel agent. Who Jonkers is proud of. Who he loves and respects.”

“How can he respect someone with no standing, no name?”

“Sometimes, Pussy,” said Mummy in a tired voice, “sometimes we have to forget all those things and think only of our child’s happiness.”

“Fine coming from you,” shouted Aunty Pussy, “you with your Oxford-educated, wealthy son-in-law from an old landed family. I’m sorry but I’m not allowing Jonkers to marry Sana in my house. If he wants another miserable wedding in a mosque he’s welcome to it.”

“He won’t have to, Aunty Pussy,” I said. “Because he can get married from my house. Mine and Janoo’s. We’ll be proud to host his wedding to Sana.”

“You! You! You traitor!” shouted Aunty Pussy. She picked up her bag and rushed out of the room.

“Oh, beta ,” sighed Mummy. “Think before you speak like that. You remember what happened to Kulchoo last time you got into a thing with Pussy? You have just one child. Go after her and say sorry.”

“I damn care,” I said.

But between you, me, and the four walls, I’d totally forgotten about Kulchoo’s accident that had started this thing in the first place. “That was an accident,” I said, crossing my fingers behind my back and quickly saying a prayer for Kulchoo’s safety under my breaths. “And besides, I’m not supercilious any more.”

That night as Kulchoo slept in his bed, I crept into his room on tiptoe and stood by his pillow and said three special prayers from the Holy Koran, to keep away black magic and evil eyes, then I blew on Kulchoo from his head to his foot three times making sure the prayers covered his whole body. There! Now we were safe!