Dirty Old Men [And Other Stories] (Zane Presents) (56 page)

This is what it means to have paradise,
he contemplated.
I should have done this a lonnng time ago. But it’s better late than never.

Nasid pulled up in a white Rolls-Royce Phantom with shiny, silver-and-gold rims. He hopped out of the car and walked around it briskly to open the back passenger door. And while he served his American immigrant boss, Nasid’s smile was as bright as the afternoon sun. He loved every
second
of his job. It beat working in the heat of the daily, poverty-stricken markets inside the center city of Mumbai.

“The car is ready, Mr. Muhammad.”

Khalif chuckled as he climbed in. “Yes, I can see that.”

Nasid closed the door behind him and hustled back around to the driver’s seat.

“It’s a beautiful day today,” Khalif commented. They drove north toward their destination.

“Yes, yes, very beautiful,” Nasid agreed. He took a peek into the rearview mirror to see how Khalif was holding up his composure on such a big day.

“Are you nervous?” he asked him. “I’ve heard Vinod’s
three
daughters are very
beautiful,
and so are his
six nieces.
”

Khalif smiled and chuckled again. He
was
nervous. He said, “More than anything, I’m nervous about choosing the wrong
one.
I would much rather be asked to choose
three
instead,” he joked.

Nasid broke into laughter. “Yes, that would settle
everything.
You could choose one daughter from
each
family.”

Not only did Vinod Siyamesh, a long-time business associate and international investor, offer
his
three daughters to the talented, American businessman in marriage, but his two brothers, Kumar and Shyam, agreed to offer
their
daughters in marriage as well. With Vinod as the second oldest brother, he was asked to allow for a democratic process so that all
three
brothers could offer their daughters equally.

Nevertheless, Khalif assumed Vinod’s two brothers were only positioning themselves and their families for good favor from him in the future. But surely, Khalif would marry one of Vinod’s three daughters
first.
Then again, he worried what would happen if one of his six
nieces
was prettier, and with more talent to offer him as a wife.

“If they’re so pretty, I’m amazed that none of them are even married yet,” he commented to his driver with a grin.

Nasid responded quickly, “Two of his oldest daughters
are
married. But few men can
afford
any of them. And the young men who
can
are more interested in being
playboys.
So they want to get married much
later
now.” He said, “But for
you,
a
rich
American man, living in
India,
and who is ready to marry an Indian
woman,
they will all worship your
feet.
”

Khalif didn’t know how he felt about that.

“And how does that make
you
feel?” he asked his Indian driver.

Nasid nodded, making eye contact with him through the rearview mirror. “I hope to have same one day when
I
can afford it.”

Khalif responded to him with a grin. But the prospect of virtually
buying
a wife in India was much different than the dating games that were played in America. However, for the wealthy, the tables of ready-and-willing wives could turn in a man’s favor in a very similar fashion. Wealthy men had far more opportunities. Yet, the
loyalty
and
service
part of a marriage to an American woman, could hardly be counted upon through income alone.

When they arrived at the off-shore estate of Vinod Siyamesh, less than an hour north of Mumbai, and near the city of Thane, Khalif became even more nervous. He had been to Vinod’s large mansion to discuss business several times before, but never to select one of the man’s daughters as his wife. That changed everything. So he began to breathe deeply, similar to an American teenager on prom night.

This is definitely nerve-wrecking,
he admitted to himself. He had only seen
glimpses
of Vinod’s daughters before, and they were always covered in colorful headdresses and garb.

Vinod and his two brothers met Khalif outside of his home, where Nasid pulled up beside the other exotic luxury cars that were parked inside of the circular driveway.

“Welcome back home, my brother,” Vinod addressed him. He and his brothers were all clean-shaven Indian Muslims, with skin nearly as brown as Khalif’s. And they all wore white and gold for the occasion.

The men all hugged and kissed both cheeks in their greetings.

“You Americans sure know how to pick out a car,” Vinod’s older brother, Kumar, commented of the white Rolls-Royce. He was also the tallest brother at nearly even height with Khalif.

“Your brother picked out this car,” Khalif informed him.

“Only because I knew you would
like it,
” Vinod explained. “But it’s only a small token of respect for how much investment money you have helped us to make over the past seven years, my friend.”

Vinod was the middle brother in size as well, where Shyam was the shortest.

Vinod slapped a friendly arm around Khalif’s shoulder and bragged, “You have made me
millions
of U.S. dollars so far, my brother. And we all plan to make
millions
more.”

“Well, now he will be your
son-in-law,
if he decides to marry one of your daughters,” Kumar added. “Or maybe,
my
son-in-law.”

Shyam did not add to their discussion concerning the marriage. He only smiled as they made their way toward the house. And when they entered, they all left their shoes inside of the foyer.

“Come, come, we will eat lunch first,” Vinod expressed, leading them into a separate dining room.

When Khalif heard the laughter of women in the dining room beside them, he became nervous again.

Man, I just want to get this over with,
he told himself. It wasn’t that he was not excited about choosing his first Indian wife, he did not want to prolong the issue. Indian culture had a way of prolonging everything. Even a simple lunch could become a five-course meal.

“So, Khalif, what do you think about Tata’s acquisition of Jaguar from the American
Ford
company?” Shyam finally asked him over the table.

Khalif swallowed down his first bite of food with Indian pita bread. “It depends on what they do with it. Americans can be very unforgiving about too many changes in their cars. So when Cadillac got away from the big, fancy cars that they were
known
for, only the Escalade was able to recover lost ground. And the OnStar system did okay. But Cadillac still lost much ground to Lincoln, with the Town Car and the Navigator.”

“So, who will Jaguar lose to as a mid-level luxury car?” Vinod questioned.

“Well,
Mercedes
continues to be strong,” Khalif answered. “And Maserati is making its
own
comeback in America, like Jaguar did when Ford took over. But really, there’s no particular mid-level luxury car that stands out right. People are buying a little bit of everything.”

“So, what do you say, not to invest in Tata?” Kumar asked him more pointedly.

Khalif shook his head. “Not yet. Let’s see where Ratan wants to go with it first. But if
I
were a part of management, I’d shop it around the world first before I start making too many changes with it. And I think most Americans will take the same wait-and-see approach.”

Shyam shook his head. “That’s a strong enough of a reason not to invest for
me.
A wait-and-see approach means a very long return, if
anything.
”

Khalif took another bite of his meal and commented, “The best companies to invest in in America are the major sports franchises; baseball, basketball and American football. Because if Americans support nothing else, they support their
sports
teams.”

Vinod agreed with him. “Yeah, yeah, you’re
right.
Even when sports teams
lose,
or they move to a new city, the price of the franchises continue to increase every year.”

“And so do the television contracts,” Khalif added.

They went back and forth over the hot and cold investment prospects, while eating their lunch meals, until Vinod finally put an end to it all.

“Okay, enough talk about investing for now. Let’s have you meet our daughters,” he addressed to Khalif and his brothers.

That quickly raised Khalif’s heart rate again.

Okay, here we go,
he prepared himself.

First they all took turns washing and drying their hands inside the bathroom. Then they walked into the elaborate sitting room of fine furniture, artwork, and Indian rugs. Vinod left them momentarily to allow the women of the house to know that they were ready.

“Okay, you will meet
my
three daughters first,” Vinod announced upon his return to the sitting room. “And remember to please ask them any questions you would like.”

He sat on the sofa beside Khalif and called for the oldest of the three daughters to enter the room. She entered quietly from the right of the hallway. She wore bright red and carefully undid her headdress to reveal her long, dark hair and smooth, tan skin. She was tall and beautiful.

She bowed and greeted, “
Asalamalakim
(Peace be on to you). My name is Rani, and I am the
third
oldest daughter of Vinod Siyamesh.”

Suddenly the nervousness subsided. It was time for all seriousness.

Khalif greeted the daughter back and asked her, “How old are you?”

“I am twenty-three.”

“And you went to school in London for two years?” He had heard Vinod speak of his daughter’s studies abroad on several occasions.

“Yes. I took international studies there.”

In the past, Khalif would have
valued
her education, but presently, he didn’t trust a woman with too much ambition in a marriage. And he could not believe that a traveling, educated woman would enjoy an arranged engagement.

“How long do you plan to stay in India?” he asked her. It struck Rani as a peculiar question. Did he want her to leave or to stay?

She grimaced and answered, “India is my
home,
but I can travel wherever I
need.
”

“And where would you want to travel?”

For that question, she smiled and answered, “I would love to travel all over the world, where I may use my education.”

“And what about going back to London?”

She grimaced again. “If I have
business
in London, or if my husband would like to go there, then I will return.”

“So, you have made no
friends
in London?”

“Oh, of course,” she answered. “But I have made friends from
everywhere;
the United States, Canada, Australia, the Middle East, Japan, Spain…”

Khalif nodded as he listened to her. Rani would prove to be a great asset to her father in business, but Khalif still did not trust to select her as a wife. She was Vinod’s oldest, unmarried daughter now, and if she were a man, she would easily be in line to take over his estate. So Khalif kept that in mind.

“No more questions,” he told her with a smile. “And thank you.”

Rani smiled back to him and bowed again to Khalif, her father, and to her two uncles.

Vinod nodded to his oldest daughter and was pleased with her answers. “Good. Send in your sister, Saleema.”

“Yes,” she responded. She smiled and nodded to Khalif again as she left the room.

Saleema Siyamesh walked in dressed in yellow. She took off her headdress to reveal her thick, dark-brown hair and smooth, tan skin; she was even more beautiful than her older sister. She was slightly shorter than Rani, with a rounder face, and a pair of auburn eyes that glowed with illumination inside the room. And when she looked directly at Khalif with her eyes, they nearly melted his heart.

Merciful Allah!
he told himself. But he had to curb his excitement. Saleema was only the second of nine daughters that he was there to choose from.

“How old are you?” he asked her.

“Twenty.”

Her eyes did not budge from him, nor did she waiver in her solid stance.

“And how long do you plan to stay in India?”

She smiled. “I
love
India. India is my
home.
But I will go wherever my life takes me.”

Her uncles chuckled at the passion of her answer.

Khalif commented, “But you have not gone away to school.”

She shook her head and answered, “No,” with no further explanation.

Khalif was forced to ask her, “Why not?”

She paused and continued to stare at him. “I did not feel a reason to. There are good universities here in India.”

“And what are you studying?” he asked her.

“Biology. I want to study how to grow and select better foods.”

“Better
foods?
” Khalif repeated.

She nodded and answered, “Yes, I like to
cook.
”