Straightening Ali (12 page)

“
I don’t know, Mother, I really don’t know,” Ali’s mother said worriedly, conceding that her mother might be right. “Yunus still needs a wife, and I’ll start looking for a husband for Yasmin once this marriage is out of the way. There’s still plenty of opportunity to solve that problem.”

Ali’s mother tried to contain her anger. She wanted to put Ali on the straight and narrow before it was too late. If she arranged his marriage to someone from Pakistan, there was more danger of the marriage not working out. If only her mother knew of her son’s lifestyle. She shuddered at the thought. It was best not to mention such things to her as she would never understand.

They arrived at the house in deathly silence with no one talking. Ali’s grandmother held onto Ali’s hand throughout the journey like she used to when he was little. He wanted to pull his hand away from her as he found it just as claustrophobic as his mother’s touch. He’d never seen this side to his grandmother before, and it upset him. She had been the one person whom he’d thought he could trust.

“
Ali,” she whispered as the car stopped outside the house. “I’m your grandmother. You can’t marry this girl. Miriam is waiting to marry you back in Pakistan. Meet her. See how you feel. If you don’t like her, I’ll find you someone else even more beautiful.”

Ali groaned to himself. His grandmother was so much like his mother it was unbelievable. He pretended not to hear her and jumped out of the car. His grandmother followed behind, leaving everyone else to scramble after them.

“
This country has a horrible smell,” Ali’s grandmother said sniffing the air. “How can you live with it?” She wrapped her orange scarf tightly around her face to cover her nostrils and mouth, and mumbled through the fabric to order Yunus to bring her suitcase into the house.

Ali grinned at Yunus’s scowl. His grandmother always complained about the smell of the English air. She probably smelled the pollution in it. From his trip to Pakistan, he could still remember the stench of the open sewage system in some parts of Islamabad and couldn’t see how his grandmother could find the English air to be objectionable in comparison.

While they’d been away, Aneesa had been hard at work cleaning and cooking, and there was a delicious aroma inside the house. Ali’s grandmother greeted Aneesa affectionately with a big kiss, after which Aneesa ushered everyone into the dining room, which formed part of the extension to the house.

The room had previously been used as Yunus’s private lounge away from the rest of the family when he’d been married. It had its own staircase leading to the large bedroom above so that Yunus and his wife could enjoy some privacy.

“
I hope you put extra chili in the food to make it extra spicy,” Ali said to Aneesa as she walked past him on her way to set the food out. “If you’ve made it too perfect grandmother will have you married within days.”

“
Shut up, Ali,” she retorted giving him a cross look.

She hurriedly finished laying out the many dishes that she’d prepared. Ali suspected that she might have had some help from the local takeaway, especially when he saw the perfectly shaped samosas. Aneesa had somehow managed to cook several dishes including chicken saag curry and lamb pilau rice. She’d even made some spicy rice pudding for desert that she’d flavored with cardamom. It was a wonder how she had managed to do it all on her own.

Ali’s grandmother said a short prayer in Arabic before scooping up a piece of chicken and chewing it hungrily, making loud cracking sounds with her dentures. She choked suddenly after the first mouthful spitting the food out onto the floor. “It tastes like plastic. Do they not have real food in this country?” she asked. “I shall eat the roti on its own.”

She chewed a couple of bites from the chapatti before smiling. “Your roti is very good, Aneesa. Your mother has taught you very well. It’s not your fault about the chicken. You made a lovely sauce, but the meat here in England does not taste very good.”

“
Thank you, Grandma,” Aneesa said, glowing with the compliment. She kissed her grandmother and raced off to the kitchen happily, pleased with herself.

“
You and I need to talk,” Ali’s grandmother said to Ali’s mother after she’d finished eating.

“
Will you all leave the room,” Ali’s mother said to everyone, putting her plate of food to one side as if readying herself for battle.

“
I want them to stay. They should listen to what I have to say as it affects them, too,” Ali’s grandmother said. “They need to know what they are giving up if you go ahead with this foolish marriage.”

“
If your grandmother wants you to stay, then you must stay,” Ali’s mother said. “Who am I to argue?”

“
I want you to cancel the wedding. If you don’t, I will leave you nothing when I die. All the things I have will go to your sister. My house. The land in the village. My two houses in the city. It will all go to her,” Ali’s grandmother threatened menacingly.

Ali’s mother laughed scornfully. “I have my own property in Pakistan, Mother. You forget my husband had his own land that he left to me. I have houses in the city, and you should see what I have in Karachi. I don’t need the barren lands you’re offering me. You can threaten all you want. You can give them away to a beggar on the street for all I care!”

“
I’ve made my decision, and I will stand by it. You need to respect that. Just because my husband has died, doesn’t mean that you’re in control of this family. I say what happens here,” Ali’s mother continued defiantly.

“
If that is the case, then I will disown you. I will not go to this farce of a wedding. I’ll stand outside and throw horse muck at the guests as they arrive,” Ali’s grandmother said dramatically.

“
Mother, you will come to my son’s wedding now that you are here, or I shall book you on the next flight back to Pakistan. I’ll also make sure that no one from this family visits you again. You’ll die a lonely and bitter old woman with no one to look after you. It’s your choice, Mother, you decide,” Ali’s mother said, trying to force his grandmother into a corner.

“
I have your sister’s children to look after me. I don’t need you. I wipe my hands clean of you,” her mother said, spitting onto her hands and then wiping them on her own cardigan.

“
My sister’s children don’t even talk to you. She’s only taught them how to speak English. They don’t know a single word in their own language. How do you think they are going to cope in Pakistan? She’ll never take them to Pakistan. They are too precious. Has she ever visited you in Pakistan or sent you any money?” Ali’s mother asked, knowing the answers to her questions.

“
You’re just jealous of her,” Ali’s grandmother gasped knowing deep down that what she was saying was true.

“
You can believe what you want, Mother. You have a choice to make. Either you come to my son’s wedding or you can get the next flight back to Pakistan,” Ali’s mother threatened.

“
How could you behave like this towards your own mother? I’m old and weak, and all you do is treat me with cruelty. I’m not blind and deaf. I still have a voice, but you just want to silence me. I’ve struggled for most of my life to get you to England, so that you could have a better life. Is this how you repay me?” Ali’s grandmother asked.

“
I know what you’ve done for me, Mother, and I’m grateful. You wanted to do the best for me, but now it’s my turn to do the best for my son. Please let me,” Ali’s mother said, tears slowly rolling down her face.

“
It’s your decision, Daughter, but don’t expect me to be happy. I’ll come to this wedding but only because he’s my grandson and not because I am happy with your choice,” Ali’s grandmother said sniffing noisily, sounding a little mollified. “You’ve ruined Miriam’s dreams. She’s been waiting a long time for Ali. You must give me Yunus for her instead!”

“
We can discuss that another time, Mother. Let’s focus on Ali’s wedding for now,” Ali’s mother sighed loudly and hugged her mother tearfully. She had been worried that she would have to carry out her threat and send her mother back to Pakistan, and if she had done that, what on earth would the community have said?

It was Sajda’s mehndi night, and the Mirza house was empty and quiet. Ali’s family had gone to Nottingham en masse to attend the celebrations. Yasmin had even managed to persuade Ali’s grandmother to attend, despite her vociferous protests.

Ali had spent the whole day savoring the peace and tranquility of the house. It was the first time since moving back home from the university hall that he had the house to himself, and he definitely appreciated the respite from the usual chaos and noise.

He had tried his best not to think about his impending wedding, so as not to ruin the day with his dark thoughts and had spent most of the day finding escapism in reading. As he lay on the sofa, book in hand, the peace and quiet was suddenly shattered by the noise of a car horn sounding loudly outside the house. Ali got up and went to the window to see who it was. He groaned loudly to himself upon spotting a dressed up and excitable Haseena, waving frantically from the open window of a taxi. She spotted him and gestured to him to come outside.

Feeling annoyed, Ali grudgingly put on his trainers and went out to the taxi without bothering to change from the lounging shorts and the scruffy t-shirt that he was wearing. All he’d wanted from the day was a little time to himself, to enjoy the oasis of calm that had presented itself before the wedding day.

“
Ali!” Haseena shouted loudly from the taxi window. “It’s your last night as a free man, so get ready and let’s go and have some fun!”

“
Haseena, I’m too tired to go out tonight. It’s my mehndi tomorrow and my wedding the day after. This is the only day I’ve got to myself. All I want to do is relax on my own tonight,” Ali said, sounding irritated and ungrateful.

“
Ali, Ali,” Haseena drawled. “Your family has gone away for the night, so it’s the only chance you’ll get to forget about the wedding for a few hours and enjoy yourself. Let’s do something fun. Go and get changed. You have five minutes,” Haseena ordered looking at her watch.

“
I don’t want to go, Haseena. Why don’t you come inside, and we’ll order a pizza and watch a DVD together. I won’t have fun if we go out,” said Ali, trying to compromise. He knew he was letting Haseena down, but if she’d warned him about this beforehand, then he might have felt differently.

“
Put your clubbing gear on and get in the taxi,” Haseena commanded. “I’m going to make sure that you have a great time. We’re going to the Nightingale.”

“
I really don’t want to go. I can’t be bothered getting dressed and making an effort,” Ali said.

“
I’m going to wait out here for five minutes, Ali. If you’re not dressed by then, I’m going to come out of the taxi and bang on your door,” Haseena threatened. “Do you really want your neighbors to be disturbed?”

“
Okay, I’ll go and get ready,” Ali said sounding even more fed up than before. He walked back into the house without a further word. The last thing he wanted was the neighbors getting involved and informing his mother the next day. He got dressed in a rush, not bothering to shave, and joined Haseena in the taxi, having changed into a white shirt and his favorite pair of blue denim jeans that had a leather stripe running down the side.

“
You look good, but you could have made a bit more of an effort and shaved,” Haseena said, taking in her friend’s outfit and his two-day-old beard.

“
I told you that I wasn’t going to make an effort,” Ali retorted.

“
Can you take us to Essex Street. It’s off Hurst Street,” Haseena said, turning to the taxi driver who started the engine and began to drive off.

“
You look good, too,” Ali said, admiring Haseena. She was wearing a black tube top that revealed her flat stomach, displaying a sparkling, silver jeweled piercing in her belly button. She wore a tight black leather mini skirt that came to just above her knees and black high heeled leather ankle boots. Keeping true to her roots, she had stuck a silver bindi to the center of her forehead that sparkled brightly complementing the glitter that she’d applied round her eyes.

“
Thank you, darling, I do try my best. I’ll be forty next year, so I’ve got to start making that extra bit of effort to grow old disgracefully.” Haseena cackled loudly reveling in the compliment.

The taxi eventually reached Hurst Street, at the heart of Birmingham’s gay village. It was nine-thirty on a Friday evening, and the street was already buzzing. Flamboyantly dressed groups of people walked along the pavement moving from bar to bar searching for a place with the latest music to dance to and the cutest men to play with.

The taxi driver stopped on Essex Street about a hundred yards from the nightclub. The street was very badly lit, but Ali could see that there was already a queue built up outside the club.