SUKHI
The air was filled with alarm. People screamed as they looked up at the menace in the sky. Some of them cried and others just ran in panic. It was all so surreal. A giant human fist hung in the cloudy sky and every so often descended to crush buildings and swerving vehicles. There was no pattern to the fist's trail of destruction.
My younger brother in the driver's seat of the minivan loudly exhorted our parents and sister to climb in. When the fist smote the road a few feet away the van shook, rattling everyone inside. Sticking his head out of the window my brother shouted and gesticulated at me on my motorbike before he sped off. Although his words were unclear his meaning wasn't. Quickly I was in pursuit of my family in the minivan.
As my family weaved erratically through the traffic my younger sister was partly leaning out of the side window of the vehicle shouting to me to stay close behind. Every time I almost drew within touching distance of the van, it suddenly swerved to avoid a strike from the giant fist in the sky. In frustration and fear I yelled at the occupants of the minivan as I chased it doggedly. Several times I swerved to avoid shell-shocked pedestrians blundering across the road. And twice I careered off my bike altogether. Each time I staggered to my feet to remount the motorbike, I looked up to see my sister gesticulating, desperate for me to follow. What other option did I have? I would rev the engine and again set off in pursuit of my family.
Despite the giant fist continuing to wreak havoc on the streets of the town I did my best to follow the erratic path of the weaving minivan up ahead. I was beginning to wonder how long this intolerable situation could continue. As if to answer my question the enormous fist descended with destruction one last time. I remember screaming. My scream turned to a wail of lamentation when I registered that my entire family had just been crushed out of existence. Instinctively I slammed on the brakes and the motorbike skidded to a stop. Too fearful to inspect up close the wrecked minivan, I slid off the bike and sank to my knees in despair. I sobbed uncontrollably.
Pervaiz awoke with a start, his forehead covered in sweat, his heart thumping and his breathing loud and laboured. Because the dream was always so vivid it took a few moments for the panic and fear to diminish sufficiently for him to recognise he had awoken from a nightmare. It took several minutes more for his heart rate to normalise even when he realised he was safe in his bed.
Two years after the event he still suffered from some of the symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. Sometimes it took hours for the sadness and depression to leave him. He had learned to get up out of bed and make himself a cup of coffee. Flicking through TV channels did nothing to assuage the remnants of his survivor guilt. The only thing he was thankful for was that the upsetting dreams about his loss now occurred infrequently. Perhaps the passage of time had dulled the pain of losing all of his immediate family in a single road accident.
His parents, younger brother Zameer and sister Shoba had been wiped out in a collision with a HGV lorry on the M6 motorway. If he hadn't been laid low that day with a bad case of the common cold, he would have accompanied his family to his cousin's wedding in Manchester. His mother was forever keeping an eye out at such gatherings for potential marriage partners for him.
In the end it was the extended family of uncles, aunts and cousins that had had saved him from oblivion. When a year or so after the event these same people pressed him to get married, he didn't have the stamina to put up a fight. He thought they were doing the best they could for him. At the time he agreed with them that marriage would mark a new chapter in life and help him back on the road to full recovery and normality. They put great store in what the love of a good woman could do for a man. So within six months of agreeing to marry, his extended family waved him goodbye at the rukhsati and let him get on with his new life with Ghazala.
His wife was a journalist. She had short reddish brown hair, fair skin and was a head shorter than him. Ghazala was well read, lively and had a pleasant easy going manner that he found appealing. She had been attracted to him partly because he was not strict about following traditional Pakistani values, especially the part about wearing a hijab. As he had explained to her, there had never been a hijab wearing tradition in his family. While he was not into politics she was very much a political animal. That was possibly connected to her journalistic profession. She often came across as quite forward in her manner but that had more to do with her assertiveness and self-confidence than anything else. She had of course learned about his family tragedy early in the marriage negotiation. Ghazala knew he still had flashbacks about the day of the accident but was prepared to help him deal with the matter. Not living with in-laws was not a drawback to her since she felt as a married couple they could live their lives without interference.
Pervaiz did his best to be a good husband. Everyone thought they made a lovely couple and so did he. After all, six months into a marriage was described by many people as still being in the honeymoon phase. Ostensibly everything was going smoothly until the day he discovered that it wasn't.
That fateful day he was forced to realise his arranged marriage to Ghazala was a sham and a mistake. Maybe he would have felt differently if it had been a slow creeping realisation like coming fully awake from a dream. Instead it had been a shocking and sudden revelation. Pervaiz had come home earlier than planned and had found his wife in a state of partial undress clinging to a young man. The sanctity of his marriage and his home had been violated in the cruellest way possible by a stranger. The woman who was supposed to support and care for him was herself a new cause of emotional injury.
The scene that confronted him that day shocked and angered him in equal measure. Given the situation he reacted instinctively. He shouted at the stranger and Ghazala. He told his wife to leave at once and never to return. While other men might have reacted more violently and exacted a more physical revenge on the stranger, it wasn't Pervaiz's way. So there was little else to be done. There was no comfort to be drawn from knowing the identity of the stranger or the reason for his wife's infidelity. As far as Pervaiz was concerned, no discussion or arguments was warranted. Just leave, he had told her. He had always believed that a wife was meant to be one's emotional support and confidant. Instead, he had been betrayed by the person who was supposed to be closest to him.
Despite Ghazala's efforts to discuss their marriage he refused to engage with her. Cheating on him only six months into the marriage, as far Pervaiz was concerned, left no scope for reconciliation. He decided he wanted the whole episode of his failed marriage behind him. For that he needed closure. Emotionally he had reached the stage where it had no longer mattered how family, friends or his community reacted when he filed for divorce. His extended family and the community's marriage customs were mostly to blame, he concluded. He vowed to himself then that from that moment onward he would make his own decisions and if he ever considered marrying again, he would choose a partner that he knew, trusted and most importantly, loved him.
*************************************************************************************************
Sukhi first came to his attention properly at a social function organised by people at the office. The dinner at a nearby hotel was well attended. Pervaiz had first noticed her at work when she had come into the Finance Department to make an inquiry with one of his colleagues. How could he not have noticed a tall curvaceous young woman, smartly kitted out, long black hair and an easy going smile? He might have been still been uninterested in a new relationship, but he was not blind, nor an unfeeling robot. Although ten years his junior Sukhi had caught his attention and that of most other men in the office. She had exuded self-confidence that men did not find threatening because it was coupled with a disarming charm. She had no need to flirt to get her way. Young men had often fallen over themselves to assist her while the older men had been more fatherly and protective. Even though she hadn't flaunted her ethnicity in how she dressed or her mannerisms, for a lot of the white British men there was the whole eastern, full-of-promise fantasy thing going on in their heads. Even in multicultural Leicester where minorities made up nearly half the population, Indian people were still viewed as exotic.
The thought that Sukhi could take any interest in him whatsoever never crossed his mind. She had after all not even been on his radar and he suspected he had not been on hers. Given the right circumstances, a sound work relationship with her was the most he could ever expect. Some people in his department knew about his divorce, although he didn't make a habit of going around telling everyone. No doubt the information would have spread further afield through the gossip mill. In the eyes of some people, divorced men were slightly tainted goods. It was generally assumed that in a divorce the man had been at fault. Such male divorcees were considered adulterers and inherently unreliable in relationships. For that reason many sensible women avoided socialising with them too closely. The same gossip mill that spread such ideas had also informed Pervaiz that two younger men with whom she worked more directly had been vying for Sukhi's attention.
When Sukhi had cozied up to him unexpectedly during that evening at the function it had come as a complete surprise. With a glass of white wine in one hand, dressed in a mesmerising outfit that accentuated her figure, she had cornered him at the social gathering.
Pervaiz picked up on the alluring fragrance she had been wearing as soon as she had leaned in towards him. Her bee-stung lips had been vivid red and had contrasted with the light caramel of her skin. Sukhi's glossy black hair was long and un-customarily had been worn loose. In his mind their encounter had been dream like.
"How long are you going to go on avoiding women? she had asked softly, so as not to be overheard by others a few feet away. He on the other hand was so captivated by her he hadn't notice anyone else in the room.
Taken completely by surprise by her question, he had stood as transfixed as a rabbit caught in the bright headlights of a car. She had just smiled at his temporary paralysis.
"What d'you mean? finally tumbled out of his mouth.
"I know you've been through a divorce and are hurting emotionally but that doesn't mean you have to avoid all women. When he hadn't answered right away she had added "We don't bite, you know. Well at least until we get to know you better.
Even in her simple statement there was suggestion and tease. Good God, you're very direct and to the point, he had told himself, caught up in the intoxication of her presence.
"I don't avoid women, he said and had instantly regretted it.
His excuse to himself for the lame answer was that his brain was preoccupied with working out why such a sexy woman would show any interest in him. That would still have been true even if an unfaithful wife and the ensuing divorce hadn't left a large dent in his self-esteem.
"OK in that case, tell me why you feel the need to frown at women as if you were constantly angry with them.
"I'm not angry with women, was his self-defensive answer.
"Does your face know that?
Even despite the jibe he admired her quick repartee.
When he went to respond Pervaiz became confused as to whether he ought to jab back with a witty comment or not but then became side-tracked and flustered by the unspoken messages her demeanour and perfume were broadcasting. He cursed himself for acting like a socially inept teenager.
To his surprise, his lack of a reply didn't seem to matter to Sukhi. For some inexplicable reason she was carrying the conversation forward without his assistance.
"From what I've been told, some of the women in the office tried to be sociable by inviting you for a coffee but I hear you've been a bit of a boor.
He had never been described as that before and was therefore unsure of what to say. In the end he came up with a somewhat unoriginal "Really?
As soon as he said it, Pervaiz felt embarrassed for being so socially awkward. Sukhi took it all in her stride and ploughed on.
"You'd be a mite more convincing if you took up the occasional offer of coffee or something.
Something' had been purred rather than spoken, sending tingling sensation up his spine. At that moment he couldn't quibble with women's characterisation of men as simple instinctive creatures. But he did do his best to still the wild and unrealistic thoughts racing through his head at that moment. He wasn't sure what had come over him. A variety of descriptions of his mental state competed for attention: smitten, a goner, ankh lardgayi, and ghayal. In the end he concluded that whatever the correct description was, his current situation was straight out of a Bollywood movie.
Minutes earlier she had been a passing acquaintance, just another woman in the building. And now she appeared to be coming onto him for apparently no reason. Who does that? A small rational part of his brain screamed that it was some sort of wind-up, somebody's idea of joke. It was just too good to be real. Yet he had to admit to himself real or not, she was making an unforgettable impression upon him.
From somewhere Pervaiz found the courage to ask "Are you asking to buy me coffee?
Pervaiz could have sworn her eyes had become smokier as she had leaned forward to whisper in his ear "What if I was? Would you have a problem with that?
Yikes! This woman was a temptress. Behkanay wali. Alarm bells were ringing in his head. Having recently come out of a failed marriage it was easy to mistake a friendly gesture for something more. Could this be one of those situations?
Playing safe, Pervaiz replied with "No, I don't have a problem with that. Ask away.
She turned slightly away from him so that she could discretely withdrew a business card from the bust of her dress. Sukhi pressed it surreptitiously into his hand.
The card was pleasantly warm to his touch. It would have been easy to dismiss what was happening as the prelude to a sexy dream.
"If you need me, just whistle. You know how to whistle, don't you? You just put your lips together and blow.
Sukhi was faithful in her rendition of Lauren Bacall's seductive encounter with Humphrey Bogart in a 1944 film classic. He hadn't known that at the time but he understood the message of "you just put your lips together and blow perfectly, especially when Sukhi puckered her lips, ready for a kiss and gently blew at his face. Instinctively he closed his eyes as the air wafted towards him.
Damn! That woman knew how to melt a man right where he stood.
When he opened his eyes again, she had disappeared into the melee of people at the party.
Pervaiz knew it hadn't been a dream. The proof of that was in his hand. The business card had her mobile phone number scribbled on the back of it. Absent-mindedly he brought the card to his nose. Even as he inhaled her fragrance he recognised the encounter had been carefully planned by a self-confident and unabashed personality. However that still left him wondering whether her act had been harmless flirting to shock him out of his morose demeanour, or whether she was genuinely interested in striking up a friendship. He puzzled over that during the rest of the evening. Occasionally he caught a glimpse of her laughing and talking to other people from the office. But she didn't come near him again let along speak to him. It was if they were complete strangers.
***************************************************************************************************
The next day was Saturday with none of the work routines so he had time to wrestle with whether or not he ought to call Sukhi. He knew so little about her. No harm in getting to know her better. Besides, one can never have too many friends. The diversion would do him good. Her brazen behaviour the day before had signalled that she wanted something more, hadn't it? Or was that a typical male misreading of the situation that played to his ego? Didn't convention dictate men asked out women? Perhaps the rules had changed and he hadn't yet caught up with the new dynamics of male female interactions.
And just when he had convinced himself to phone Sukhi, a small voice inside his head brought up the fact that they were from different communities. She was Sikh and he was Pakistani and notionally Muslim. He stopped his thoughts going down that fraught route. He admonished himself for getting too far ahead of himself and over-thinking the matter.
By midday he decided to stop living inside his head, picked up his phone and called her.
"Hi. It's Pervaiz.
A belated "Hi from Sukhi followed.
"We chatted yesterday at the dinner.
"Yes I think we did, she acknowledged without enthusiasm.
Despite being caught on the back foot by her cool response, he soldiered on as best he could.
"I was wondering if we might meet up sometime for a coffee.
"I'm not sure that's such a good idea was not the response he had expected or had hoped for.
"Look Pervaiz, this is bad time.
He had tried but he had crashed and burned. Nothing left to say but "I understand.
"I have a thumping headache, she added by way of explanation. I might have drank a little too much last night.
"I hope you feel better soon. It's best I go now.
She made no attempt to prolong the conversation.
"Bye then.
"Yes, bye.
Well I seriously misread her, that's for sure, he scolded himself. To prevent himself from dwelling too much on the rejection, he decided to do something productive like making himself some lunch.
He was interrupted ten minutes later when his phone rang.
"Pervaiz, it's Sukhi.
"Oh hi.
"I'm sorry for being short with you a few minutes ago.
Since she sounded genuinely contrite, he waved off her previously frosty attitude. Besides the fact that she had called him back had made his hopes resurge.
"It's OK. We all have bad days. What can I do for you?
"Look, about yesterday, I think you might have gotten the wrong impression.
"You mean from your Oscar winning performance as the femme fatale?
"OK I deserve that. I'm embarrassed about my behaviour. It was the wine talking not me. I'm not like that. Normally I'd never have more than one glass of wine, but yesterday Jenny and Marge topped up my glass once or twice.
So deep down she is interested in me, he convinced himself. Everyone knows that alcohol abolishes inhibitions allowing one's true feelings to emerge. He knew he was clutching at straws but he had crashed and burned once already..
"So you didn't really want me to ask you out for coffee, like you implied.
"To be perfectly honest, it was a bit of a wind-up. Jenny, Marge and me were talking about how you keep your distance from women in the office and thought we'd play a harmless little prank on you.
The humiliating blow to Pervaiz's fragile self-esteem was like a cricket bat to the head. Am I that unlikable, he was forced to wonder? Not capable of a suitable response to the unwelcome truth, he went very quiet for long enough a time that it made Sukhi panicky and remorseful.
"I'm sorry - really I am. I didn't mean any harm by it. Honest.
"I'm sure you didn't. Don't worry about it. I've been shot down before. To put a positive spin on it, I got to see a side of you that I'd never see in any other circumstances, he commented, in an attempt to bounce back from the rejection.
"Best you forget my...well, I suppose you could call it my performance. It was just an act and nothing like me.
"What's been seen can never be unseen or forgotten, he pronounced solemnly.
There was an embarrassed laugh at that from her.
"Besides, " he continued, pressing home the advantage in their conversation, "I don't think it was a performance on your part. More like you were acting out your alter ego, if you ask me.
"No way.
"Yes way, he insisted.
"If you think that, you don't know me at all.
"If you don't think I know you, then take the opportunity to change my mind. Have that coffee with me.
That caught her off guard.
"That's a clever manoeuvre on you part, I have to say, but I can't.
"What you really mean is, you won't.
"It's not like that. It's just that...well, it's...
He decided to take advantage of her being off balance.
"Is it because I'm divorced tainted faulty goods?
"No.
"Is it because I work at the same place as you do?
"No it's not that either.
"Then it must be because I'm taller than you.
"Don't be silly.
"I've got it. You prefer younger guys and think it would be inappropriate to have a coffee with me because I'm too old.
"Age has got nothing to do with it.
"Then why not, Sukhi? It's only a coffee. Anyway, I think after pulling that cruel prank on me, the very least you owe me a coffee.
"You think so?
"Definitely. So, what d'you say? he asked with surging hope.
"OK, but only if you're buying.
"Cheapskate.
"Are you forgetting who has the leverage here? she reminded him good-humouredly.
"I think people are wrong when they claim women are at a disadvantage in life.
She ignored his provocative comment.
"FYI, so there's no misunderstanding. We're going for one coffee and it's not to be considered as some form of date. Understood?
"You drive a hard bargain, Miss.
"I do, and don't you forget it.
(End of Part 1)
comment:
p_commentcount