The First Feeling. (part nine)

Amma had heard all of that. She had walked in and I hadn’t heard her walking in because I was too busy talking. And it was kind of hard to make sense of other noises when Ghania was sobbing her eyes out into her gorgeous dupatta.

“Ghania will not be talking to Zohaib, Sumera. She will not.”

She suddenly looked up, away from her sobs. “Of course not – of course not, Chachi. I won’t, I won’t!”

Amma sat herself down in the same stately manner. “I will make sure of that.”

Ghania was nodding vehemently but I sensed Amma’s tone. There was something else she meant when she said that. This was no I’m-an-adult-I-can-order-you-around tone. This was something else entirely.

“Ghania will not speak of any of this to anyone and call everyone and tell her that Sumera, you, my child, were mistaken. Ghania will call everyone and tell everyone that she is engaged to Yasin Mohammad and tell them that she is moving to America. She will apologize to Zohaib, she will tell him she was leading him on and she will apologize to Bhai Waleed and she will apologize to her mother for being the worst daughter a mother could ever have.”

A title Ghania won from me that I didn’t regret.

“What are you talking about, Chachi!” Ghania almost snapped. Her eyes were narrowed.

Amma smiled slightly. “Oh curious now, are we.”

I was staring at my mother. My do-the-right-thing mother and never-resort-to-below-the-belt-stuff mother and the woman who believed in strategic tactics to win a battle, not blackmail.

“Ghania, dear, I had no idea you had so much knowledge of a woman’s feelings until I read a short but well-explained exchange between you and a man called … let’s call him N, shall we?

Ghania’s eyes widened. “What- how – how do you know about that?”

I looked at Ghania. Then I laughed. “You’ve been two-timing on a guy who’s already two-timing on someone else?” I kept laughing. Didn’t stop for a long time.

Ghania was, by this time, at my mother’s feet. “Please, Chachi, please don’t tell anyone about Naveed, I love him! He say he will ask his parents to call Abbu and Ammi soon, please don’t tell anyone about him!”

“So this Naveed boy was in your college, huh? Nice boy. From his facebook profile. Remember that day you forgot to log out your account? Well, what do I know, I’m a stupid old woman who knows nothing about these modern day inventions. I don’t know what a wonderful relationship can occur over facebook messages… I had no idea you looked so pretty in a sari, Ghania? How come you’ve never worn a sari at home? But apparently Naveed was very taken with your ‘sexy’ sari pictures. What sari pictures are those, Ghania? Oh I remember! The bright red sari you ‘borrowed’ from me, the one I’d asked a friend of mine in India to give to Sumera on her anniversary! I had no idea such a small blouse would look so good on you, Ghania. I should tell Dadi Farrukh what a slim waist you have ever since you left the village …”

“Chachi, no, please …”

“Amma, stop it.” It was like torturing an alley cat. Pointless.

I pulled Ghania back to her feet. “Get out, go home and don’t come back. Don’t talk to Zohaib. Just go.”

She left, still sobbing. I faced Amma. “How could you? How could you be so – cruel?”

She glared at me. “I swear, child. As much as I love you, sometimes I think you’re honestly made out of goat cheese!”

I felt angrier than I had at Ghania. “You had no right to blackmail her like that!”

“Let me tell you about rights, girl. Right is what you had over Zohaib but he didn’t take that seriously did he?”

I stared. Was this the same woman who was appreciating the sanctity of marriage moments after blackmailing her neice?

“I don’t understand – you did this for – me?”

“Of course, you twit. Why else would I save Ghania’s pictures in a secret folder on the computer!”

My mother knowing about secret folders and Ghania dressed in a sari were all too much for that particular moment. I felt something give way from underneath and the next thing I knew I was back in bed, being fanned over by Amma and Bari Tayee.

“Poor thing, too much for her, that too in this condition!”

“Water, bring water!”

“No, no, bring milk with some nuts! That special milk we make for Dadi! Go, Sidra, go bring that milk!”

I grinned to myself. And everything turned black again.

(end of part nine)

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