last bit as though he’d bought me a new car.
Mum was studying him, trying to read between his words. Why the turnaround, I wondered. Why give me a surprise when I had disappointed him so badly? It didn’t make sense and I could tell Mum thought so too. Riaz’s face rose in my mind: how he had looked so sad for me and held me close. Then I realised: it wasn’t a surprise overseas trip; I was being sent away. How long for? As long as it took for the gossip in the community to die down? How many people knew I had ‘gone off the rails’?
Papa’s smile was almost his old one. He looked at me as if he was about to deliver the best news in the world. ‘Your flight leaves tomorrow.’
I stared at him in horror. ‘Tomorrow!’
‘Hassan, you never said so soon. She’ll miss Christmas.’ Mum’s voice squeezed to a squeak and then she burst into tears. ‘She’s my daughter too. How can you do this without any discussion?’ Then she stopped. ‘The elections. Have you thought, Hassan? She won’t be safe.’
But Papa wasn’t listening to her pain, only the words. ‘Of course she’ll be safe—she’ll be with the family. This is for the best, the best for Ameera. She’ll have a nice holiday in Kashmir and see how to live properly the Muslim life. She’ll come back a true Muslim.’ He looked so pleased with himself.
‘Papa, I’m Muslim already.’
‘I mean, to follow God’s path. You only follow your own.’
That was when I cried. The tears slid silently down my face. How could he say something like that to me?
Mum pulled herself together enough to stick up for me. ‘Hassan, that’s too harsh. You know she tries hard for you.’
‘Then she won’t mind going to the family for a few weeks. Stop those tears, both of you. Anyone would think something terrible is happening.’ Papa passed me the ticket. ‘See? A holiday in Kashmir. Any Australian girl would jump at the chance.’
I checked the ticket before passing it to Mum. The return date was in a month. I breathed out slowly. Amonth wasn’t so bad; I’d be back in plenty of time before uni started. I gave Mum a tentative smile. I would miss her and my friends. All those things we were going to do: movies, shopping, the beach. And Tariq…but I closed my mind to him.
9
Papa said he wouldn’t take me to Kashmir himself. ‘You will get to know your relatives better on your own. It will be good for you. Your uncle will meet you at Islamabad airport. You’ll go through Singapore—it’s the safest and shortest way. Just wait in the airport and wear your dupatta—no one will bother you.’ He had thought of everything.
‘Will Uncle Rasheed know me?’ I asked.
Papa smiled. ‘I have sent last year’s school picture. He will see the family resemblance.’
Only a day to pack. I went through my wardrobe. It was winter there; I had a thicker shalwar qameez I could take. Mum came and helped me.
‘Your father will pay for clothes when you arrive so you won’t need to pack much,’ she told me.
She looked so sad that I stopped what I was doing and hugged her.
‘Are you okay with this, Ameera?’ she said suddenly. ‘You don’t have to go. We could get around it somehow. Leave the house or something.’
I wondered why she was talking like that. How could we go against what Papa wanted? I would be worse than ungrateful. Maybe this trip would help everything get back to normal when I returned. I didn’t want anything to interfere with going to uni. I may even enjoy myself, I thought. I would see Meena again, though she’d married since I saw her last. And I could brush up on my Urdu, even though Uncle’s family were educated and also spoke English.
I pulled away from Mum. ‘Why would we leave? Because he made a decision without you?’
Mum faltered. ‘It could lead to other things…’
I knew Mum would never leave. She might argue with Papa but in the end she did what he wanted. I understood, for I was the same.
‘I’ll go,’ I
Mum was studying him, trying to read between his words. Why the turnaround, I wondered. Why give me a surprise when I had disappointed him so badly? It didn’t make sense and I could tell Mum thought so too. Riaz’s face rose in my mind: how he had looked so sad for me and held me close. Then I realised: it wasn’t a surprise overseas trip; I was being sent away. How long for? As long as it took for the gossip in the community to die down? How many people knew I had ‘gone off the rails’?
Papa’s smile was almost his old one. He looked at me as if he was about to deliver the best news in the world. ‘Your flight leaves tomorrow.’
I stared at him in horror. ‘Tomorrow!’
‘Hassan, you never said so soon. She’ll miss Christmas.’ Mum’s voice squeezed to a squeak and then she burst into tears. ‘She’s my daughter too. How can you do this without any discussion?’ Then she stopped. ‘The elections. Have you thought, Hassan? She won’t be safe.’
But Papa wasn’t listening to her pain, only the words. ‘Of course she’ll be safe—she’ll be with the family. This is for the best, the best for Ameera. She’ll have a nice holiday in Kashmir and see how to live properly the Muslim life. She’ll come back a true Muslim.’ He looked so pleased with himself.
‘Papa, I’m Muslim already.’
‘I mean, to follow God’s path. You only follow your own.’
That was when I cried. The tears slid silently down my face. How could he say something like that to me?
Mum pulled herself together enough to stick up for me. ‘Hassan, that’s too harsh. You know she tries hard for you.’
‘Then she won’t mind going to the family for a few weeks. Stop those tears, both of you. Anyone would think something terrible is happening.’ Papa passed me the ticket. ‘See? A holiday in Kashmir. Any Australian girl would jump at the chance.’
I checked the ticket before passing it to Mum. The return date was in a month. I breathed out slowly. Amonth wasn’t so bad; I’d be back in plenty of time before uni started. I gave Mum a tentative smile. I would miss her and my friends. All those things we were going to do: movies, shopping, the beach. And Tariq…but I closed my mind to him.
9
Papa said he wouldn’t take me to Kashmir himself. ‘You will get to know your relatives better on your own. It will be good for you. Your uncle will meet you at Islamabad airport. You’ll go through Singapore—it’s the safest and shortest way. Just wait in the airport and wear your dupatta—no one will bother you.’ He had thought of everything.
‘Will Uncle Rasheed know me?’ I asked.
Papa smiled. ‘I have sent last year’s school picture. He will see the family resemblance.’
Only a day to pack. I went through my wardrobe. It was winter there; I had a thicker shalwar qameez I could take. Mum came and helped me.
‘Your father will pay for clothes when you arrive so you won’t need to pack much,’ she told me.
She looked so sad that I stopped what I was doing and hugged her.
‘Are you okay with this, Ameera?’ she said suddenly. ‘You don’t have to go. We could get around it somehow. Leave the house or something.’
I wondered why she was talking like that. How could we go against what Papa wanted? I would be worse than ungrateful. Maybe this trip would help everything get back to normal when I returned. I didn’t want anything to interfere with going to uni. I may even enjoy myself, I thought. I would see Meena again, though she’d married since I saw her last. And I could brush up on my Urdu, even though Uncle’s family were educated and also spoke English.
I pulled away from Mum. ‘Why would we leave? Because he made a decision without you?’
Mum faltered. ‘It could lead to other things…’
I knew Mum would never leave. She might argue with Papa but in the end she did what he wanted. I understood, for I was the same.
‘I’ll go,’ I
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