Straightening Ali (11 page)

The arrivals area was heaving with families waiting for the flight. Ali spotted Auntie Fazal sitting on a chair in one of the waiting areas. He contemplated whether to mention the sighting to his mother. He’d not seen his Auntie for several months, as his mother had fallen out with her again. Ali didn’t know what the latest argument was about, but it was bound to be something trivial.

Auntie Fazal was the opposite of his mother. She always wore brightly colored clothes that revealed an inappropriate amount of cleavage, and she never left home without at least ten gold bangles on each arm, thick gold earrings and several gold chains round her neck. Ali’s mother always said that she was a mugging waiting to happen.

“
There she is, the scheming little kuthie,” his mother cried upon spotting her sister, before marching over to her angrily.

“
How dare you tell me only three hours before the flight arrives that mother’s coming to England!” she berated her sister.

Auntie Fazal got up to face her sister. Although she was ten years younger, she’d learned how to stand up to her. “Calm down, Zainub, she only telephoned me two days ago to tell me she was coming. I’ve not had the chance to tell you until this morning, when I remembered. I’ve been busy.”

“
You had plenty of time to mention it to me. I don’t think you wanted me here to greet her. If the plane hadn’t been delayed, I wouldn’t have managed to get here on time. You’ve been so cunning,” Ali’s mother said crossly. “What other secrets are you keeping?”

“
We all have our secrets, and it turns out that you haven’t mentioned your son’s engagement or the wedding to mother,” Auntie Fazal said, smiling triumphantly at her sister.

“
Hmmph,” Ali’s mother said glancing crossly at Fazal before stomping away loudly. She found a chair and sat down glowering angrily at Auntie Fazal from across the waiting area, while Yunus, Yasmin and Ali joined her on the neighboring seats.

Ali noticed his two cousins, Majid and Sajid, sit down next to Auntie Fazal. They were twins and behaved very strangely, rarely speaking to anyone in Ali’s family, but this was probably due to the confusing and volatile relationship between their mother and Ali’s.

At times they were allowed to talk to Ali’s family, but at other times, they were banned by their mother from doing so, usually following an argument of some sort. They’d once made the mistake of visiting Ali’s home when they were not supposed to and incurred their mother’s wrath and were not allowed out of the house for several weeks. In the end, Majid and Sajid had decided to err on the side of caution and keep away from the Mirza family altogether. They found Ali’s family to be quite intimidating anyway. They, therefore, ignored the Mirza’s on this occasion and sat looking bored, waiting for the flight to arrive.

“
Ali, you’re not to discuss the wedding with your grandmother. If she asks you anything or tries to talk to you about it, you are to tell her to speak to me,” Ali’s mother instructed.

“
Okay, Ammi, I will,” Ali said, wondering what was going on. It was unlike grandmother to come to England without notifying his mother first. Maybe she had wanted to surprise them.

The two sisters glanced discretely at each other several times during the wait. They were both very strong willed individuals and that led them to behave antagonistically towards each other. It also didn’t help that Ali’s mother had been disappointed with her sister’s choice of husband, who unfortunately was from a family of sheepherders rather than landowners, as Auntie Fazal had married for love.

The airport arrival lounge was crowded with young Pakistani children racing around, causing mischief and eventually irritating Ali with their loud noise and behavior. He could hear several people complaining about the delay and how it might clash with the timing of their prayers.

The arrival of the PIA flight was suddenly announced over the speaker system, first in English and then in Urdu, following which the screens changed to show that the flight had landed. There was an immediate flurry of activity as people got up and chattered excitedly to each other in anticipation. The Mirza family joined the rest of the families thronging towards the arrivals gate and stood patiently waiting for their grandmother to appear.

Ali was quite apprehensive at the thought of seeing his grandmother again. He hadn’t seen her since the age of six. At the time, he’d always doted on her and had very fond memories of her last visit. She used to take him everywhere with her. He winced inwardly as he remembered his favorite trick at that time, which was to steal her false teeth and wear them over his own.

Ali’s mother had been fourteen years old when her father had taken another wife without divorcing Ali’s grandmother. As was the Muslim custom, men could take up to four wives, but this was rarely done within the Pakistani community. If they did so, they were required to seek permission from the first wife and then to treat both wives equally.

Ali’s grandfather had not sought his grandmother’s consent to his second marriage and had certainly not treated them both equally. Ali’s grandmother had been left to raise her two daughters on her own, and the son she’d been carrying when her husband left her, died within a year of his birth. Ali’s grandfather had completely cut ties with his first family, only seeing his two daughters for the first time shortly before he died.

The door to the arrivals section suddenly burst open, and crowds of people started pouring in from the flight from Islamabad. With them, came the exotic smells and sounds of Pakistan. The aroma of cumin, coriander and other exotic spices mingled with the smell of the sweat of the passengers from their eleven-hour flight and wafted fragrantly around the arrivals lounge.

Trolleys laden dangerously with bulky suitcases and various boxes were pushed precariously through the doors by brightly clad Pakistanis. The awaiting crowd chattered excitedly in different Pakistani dialects each time someone new appeared through the arrivals door. It was this chaotic jumble that greeted the new arrivals, a scene that was not too dissimilar from that which they had left behind in Islamabad.

People shouted excitedly to attract the attention of loved ones. Others grabbed strangers, mistaking them for relatives. People cried joyously as they were reunited with their families, hugging and kissing before melting away.

Ali waited patiently as the crowd slowly dwindled. Auntie Fazal and his mother had drifted towards each other and were now standing together. The two sisters looked very alike except that Ali’s mother appeared somewhat older. They both appeared tense at the thought of their mother’s arrival.

Ali recognized his grandmother immediately as she came through the arrival gate and yelled out to her excitedly. She hadn’t changed a bit. She was a short Pakistani woman, barely five foot tall and very thin. She looked elderly but not frail. She was a little stooped in the way that old people sometimes are. As records of births were not kept in her village at the time of her birth, her age was a mystery, so Ali guessed she must be in her late eighties by now.

She was wearing a thick black winter coat. Ali remembered that she had always found the English summers cold on her previous visits, and this would be her first autumn in England. She wore a bright orange scarf wrapped around her wrinkled neck, which almost touched the floor due to its length. It was a complete mismatch to the coat she wore, which at her age did not matter.

She smiled when she saw Ali and rushed towards him pushing her trolley, which held only one small suitcase. She moved quite quickly through the diminishing crowd for someone her age, shoving people out of her way.

Ali’s mother intercepted her before she could reach Ali, giving her a kiss and hugging her tightly. Ali’s grandmother didn’t return the kiss and bore her daughter’s affection coldly. Auntie Fazal pushed Ali’s mother aside and kissed her mother several times. She began to wail loudly with tears streaming from her eyes. Some of the travelers turned to watch, smiling in amusement at the display.

Ali’s mother looked embarrassed by Auntie Fazal’s overenthusiastic display of affection and gave her a nudge to prompt her to stop. As if a switch had been pressed, Auntie Fazal stopped crying and was immediately composed. She wiped away her tears and pulled a small mirror from her handbag and checked her face to make sure that she hadn’t ruined her makeup.

“
Ali, my beautiful grandson,” his grandmother cried, smothering him in kisses as if he was still six. Ali hugged her, taking in her scent. She smelled of cinnamon and mothballs bringing back memories of his childhood. “You belong to me,” she said looking at Ali intensely, laying her claim. She barely came up to Ali’s chest and seemed to have shrunk over the years. Her body felt brittle and fragile in Ali’s arms.

“
Yunus,” she said hugging him next. “You’ve grown so big and round. They feed you well in England. I never got to see you when your mother brought you to Pakistan and married you off without telling me. You’re divorced already I understand. Your mother should have listened to me.” She gave her daughter a meaningful look while Yunus kissed her without responding to her comments.

She gave a quick kiss to Yasmin. “I have a husband in mind for you,” she muttered under her breath.

She then turned to Majid and Sajid who were hiding behind their mother and gave them both a kiss on their cheeks. They openly wiped away the spittle that she left behind and gave her a disgusted look, which she thankfully did not notice.

“
Where is your husband, Fazal? Why has he not come to greet me?” she asked her daughter. “Is he too frightened of an old woman like me?”

“
He’s at work,” Auntie Fazal said, excusing her husband. “He’s a very busy man. If he takes a day off, he loses his bonus. I have our new four wheel drive Suzuki outside waiting to take you to my house.”

“
I’ll be going to your sister’s,” Ali’s grandmother said, dismissing her youngest daughter’s offer. “Zainub has managed to turn up to see me arrive, so it’s only fair that I go with her. Besides, I have a lot to discuss with your sister.”

“
I thought you said that you were going to stay with me,” argued Auntie Fazal, almost whining.

“
Yunus, will you please take my suitcase to the car,” Ali’s grandmother said, ignoring her.

As soon as Ali’s family got into the car and his grandmother had said her goodbyes to Auntie Fazal, her demeanor changed. “You have a lot to answer for,” she said angrily to Ali’s mother. “How dare you arrange my youngest grandson’s marriage without consulting me! What possessed you to arrange his wedding with a girl from that jungalee family?”

“
Mother, it was the best match for him. Sajda is educated and she’s nearly the same age as him. They were both born in England, too,” Ali’s mother said.

“
What do you mean? I’ve already given him to someone. I found the best match for him when he was born. I told you then that he belonged to me,” Ali’s grandmother said, her fists clenched, shaking with rage.

“
Who did you have in mind, Mother?” Ali’s mother asked crossly.

“
You know who it is. He will be marrying my sister’s daughter Miriam. I’ll not have my grandson marrying a girl whose grandmother begged on the streets,” Ali’s grandmother said heatedly.

Ali was stunned by his grandmother’s words. She actually wanted him to marry her own niece. He wondered whether it was legal in England to marry someone that closely related.

“
Mother, you arranged that when he was a baby, and she was five. They were babies! What do you think he is going to have in common with a village girl from Pakistan? I married Yunus to someone from there and look what happened. I’m not making the same mistake twice,” Ali’s mother said.

“
You are wrong. How can you expect your son to know his roots if you marry him to someone from England? You must cancel the wedding immediately. I won’t have this family’s reputation ruined by your choice of bride,” Ali’s grandmother said.

“
I can’t, Mother, and I won’t. He’s my son, and I’m choosing what’s best for him. I’ll make the decisions for my family, not you,” Ali’s mother retorted angrily.

“
You went behind my back without consulting me. I demand that you cancel the wedding,” Ali’s grandmother hissed back.

“
I did not go behind your back, Mother. I don’t have to consult you on everything that happens. You’re thousands of miles away,” Ali’s mother replied.

Yasmin, Yunus and Ali all listened to the argument in silence. Yunus continued driving, his eyes fixated on the road ahead, while Yasmin fiddled nervously with her hijab. Ali was surprised that neither of them had said anything, as normally they would have been the first to jump to the defense of their mother.

“
My grandson’s marriage is very important to me. You must marry him to someone in Pakistan. If you don’t, all your land will disappear bit by bit. Every year, the other landowners take a stretch of land, and I have to fight to get it back. Who is going to do that when you have no more ties with people in Pakistan and you become too English to go back?” her mother asked angrily.