Marrying Ameera
“The next morning, breakfast was strained. Jamila was quiet, but it was an uneasy quiet. Even Zeba and Asher didn’t say a word, as if they could sense an impending storm. I felt as if I had run a marathon; I was wrung out from a restless night thinking about the folk tales, and Dadi jan’s marriage and how she was abducted. Tariq had told me the Koran said marriage had to be willingly entered into, but my relatives didn’t seem to agree. As we sat together uneasily, munching on greasy parathas and... eggs, Uncle Rasheed came in.
‘Beti ji,’ he addressed me. I looked up. So the veneer of politeness was to be continued even after he had taken my passports and ticket. ‘I hear you have a mobile phone.’ I felt as if I’d been submerged in freezing water. I shot a look at Asher, but he half-shook his head.
Uncle Rasheed sat down. ‘Hassan says he gave you one. Do you have it, beti?’ There was no point lying. ‘Yes,’ I said.
‘I think it best that I keep it for you.’ Did he find this easy, I wondered.MoreLess
‘Beti ji,’ he addressed me. I looked up. So the veneer of politeness was to be continued even after he had taken my passports and ticket. ‘I hear you have a mobile phone.’ I felt as if I’d been submerged in freezing water. I shot a look at Asher, but he half-shook his head.
Uncle Rasheed sat down. ‘Hassan says he gave you one. Do you have it, beti?’ There was no point lying. ‘Yes,’ I said.
‘I think it best that I keep it for you.’ Did he find this easy, I wondered.MoreLess
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