Moni Mohsin - Duty Free

Last Tuesday was Jonkers’ wedding. In our front lawn. It was tiny. Just two hundred people. But even if I say it with my own mouth, it was very tastily done. Mulloo arranged it. It was a favour I did her, giving her her first do as an event manager. But by now you must be knowing that I’m like that — soft headed, charitable soul. By the way, I also beat Sunny to it, and now everyone in my kitty group will remember how it was me and not Sunny who launched Mulloo’s carrier as an event manager. And must say, Mulloo did it very nicely even though she organized whole thing in one week. Because once Sana agreed and Zahra agreed, then Jonkers wanted to get married straight away and as Janoo said: “Why ever not?”

So it was mad rush because we had to fit it in before Muharram but I think so, we managed. One good thing about marrying someone who is not so well-reknowned is that your guest list is small and also Jonkers and Sana are not the big splashy dowry-type people, so we didn’t have to wait for months having furniture made to order and special sets of jewellery brought from India and bags and shoes from London and Dubai and so on and so fourth.

The flowers were all local — pink roses and mauve glads — and the garden was lit with pink fairy lights. Don’t ask me how but Mulloo found a mauve velvet tent-type thing from somewhere and we put that up in the front lawn and spattered small, small tables all around with rose petals and white table-cloths and pink candles. And it was all warm and smug inside because we had those standing-up heater-type things — I think so they’re called brassieres.

Zain did the music and Kulchoo and Farhad and Irum brought all their friends and there was non-stop dancing for three full nights. Even Sunny and Akbar and Baby and Jammy and Nina and Maha joined in, and Jonkers and Janoo played hosts. There was only one dish because bore guvmunt order is still in place, in fact it’s become worst, but no one complained because it was Mulloo’s famous mutton karahi and anyways, everyone had had so much of wine that they were past caring.

Even Zeenat came and she was very nice about it and gave Jonkers and Sana a beautiful painting. I wore a fab new outfit in pink and mauve, designer of course, with grey contacts (green is so past it) and a ruby necklace and matching earrings. I’d have ordered a Tarun Tahliani sari for myself from India with Sarvoski crystals but there was a time problem, na. Chalo , at Kulchoo’s wedding then. I also wanted Sana to buy a fab new outfit from a designer, ready-made unfortunately, because again we didn’t have time to order. It was to be Janoo’s and my present, na , but she said no, she wanted to wear her mother’s wedding clothes. She wore a cream and gold gharara and between you, me, and the four walls, it was a bit old-fashioned and a bit on the simple side but she carried it away.

And Zahra wept and Noor danced and Jonkers grinned so much that I thought his face would break in two. By the way, he was wearing such a nice Italian wool suit, that don’t even ask. Charcole gray, with a deep, rich sheen. And without his glasses and his old nervous way of gulping-shulping, he actually looked quite dishy. Promise, by God, I’m not joking.

Mummy tried very hard to make Aunty Pussy come but you know, na , that she is proud, stubborn-type and said till the last minute that she would come over her own dead body. I said to Jonkers, chalo , never mind she’ll come around when you have your first child. But on the day of the nikah she suddenly turned up with poor old Uncle Kaukab in toe. She brought her old diamond necklace — a bit dirty looking because as usual she’d saved on the polishing — and she put it around Sana’s neck and she didn’t say anything but she took Sana’s face in her hands and kissed Sana’s forehead. And Uncle Kaukab put a shaking hand on Jonkers’ head and said, “All my love and blessings, always.”

Between you, me, and the four walls, I was a little bit edgy about the security. More bombs burst last week. One in DG Khan that killed twenty-four. Another in Peshawar that I don’t know killed how many. And more shootings in Karachi. In a mosque. Janoo was looking at the papers the day before the wedding and he said in his special Doomday voice, “This year more people have died in bombs and shootings in Pakistan than in Iraq. What will become of us?”

“Now don’t do talk like that,” I said. “We have to be happy. We have a wedding in our house. We can’t go around looking depress. Doesn’t look nice.”

But thanks God everything went off okay at our wedding. And when Janoo and I were standing together and watching Sunny and Kulchoo doing the twist and a drunken Tony waving his glass and pottering around them and wolf-whistling, and an embarrassed Irum hiding behind her laughing mother, Janoo put his arm around me and said, “Still want to move to Dubai?”

I looked up at him and said, “Maybe not tonight.”

And then I asked, “Still feeling lonely?”

He laughed and dropping a kiss on top of my head, he said, “Maybe not tonight.”

Yesterday we had our kitty (it was Mulloo’s turn to host this time) and all the girls said that even if the wedding was small it was lovely, like olden times when it used to be just nears and dears and not thousands of distants. I looked carefully at their faces just to see if they were being fakely nice, but I think so, they meant it. And Mulloo’s got lots more bookings because of me and so I told her: “Mulloo yaar , don’t forget, haan , how I started your business?”

Jonkers has taken Sana on a safari to a place called Boats Wana for their honeymoon. In her place I’d have chosen London or Singapore for the shopping but no, she said, she wanted to commute with nature. Crack! Janoo gave her a fab-type camera and she flew over the moon with happiness. Double crack! And Janoo and Kulchoo both said to Jonkers and Sana that come and show us the pictures when you return and then maybe we’ll all go next year as well. I’ll go over my dead body to a jungle to watch dirty, smelly animals, I said under my breaths but on top I smiled and said, “ Haan , what a fab idea!” And then I thought to myself, “Why not?” So I said to Jonkers and Sana, “Make sure to find a nice five-stars- wallah hotel because I’m not staying in some horrid camp-shamp.”

While Jonkers and Sana are away, Mummy and I are getting Aunty Pussy to paint the house and change the sofas which sag when you sit on them and also to shampoo the Persian carpets whose designs you can’t see any more and hang new curtains and buy new heaters and make it all nice and ready for the bride’s home-coming. Also, I’ve forced her to get poor old Ghulam a new set of fake teeth. Of course, Aunty Pussy grumbled a bit at first about the expense on the house but I think so secretly she’s quite happy. One, because everybody praised the bride and said how pretty and natural she looked and two, it turns out everyone who matters to Aunty Pussy knows and likes Sana because they’ve all been buying their tickets from her for ever and also because Sana wants to keep working at her job and although on top she said “What’s the need?” inside Aunty Pussy’s very happy that she will be earning her keeps. And lastly, Zeenat Kuraishi told Aunty Pussy that she was lucky to have people as special as Sana and Zahra as part of her family and you know, na , that whatever Zeenat says is holy Braille for Aunty Pussy. So, between you, me, and the four walls, Aunty Pussy and Sana might have a few fights at first — because Aunty Pussy is bossy and Sana is not taking-it-quietly type — but you wait and see, after a while, they’ll get along fine. Oh yes, and Jonkers and Sana will be very happy. How do I know? Haw , haven’t I told you? I have a sick-sense about these things. Didn’t I tell you Jonkers would find a girl at the Butt — Khan wedding? Past your mind back …