horrendous taste in clothes. She was wearing a hideous, salwar kameez suit that looked almost like wallpaper found in any Pakistani curry house. It was made from a thick burgundy velvet fabric, which was covered with little splashes of bleached green patches, while the dupatta, covering her hair, had large nylon flower petals sewn on it.
She led Ali and Yunus into the house through a long hallway. The smell of freshly cooked curry emanated from the nearby kitchen, making Ali’s stomach churn. It had a delicious aroma, but the thought of eating was the last thing on his mind. His stomach was volatile and his nerves in tatters as he wondered what his in-laws would make of him. It felt as if he were about to walk into an interview.
The walls of the hallway were covered in framed photographs of the weddings of various family members. “This is going to be my life,” Ali thought glumly seeing his future mapped out in the photographs on the walls.
Just before reaching the end of the hallway, Ali’s mother-in-law stopped and turned round as if remembering something. “Yunus,” she cried, finally acknowledging him. “I’m so sorry. I completely forgot you. I’m so absent minded. I was so excited at seeing my new son-in-law and had no thought for anything else. Please forgive me. I can be a forgetful old woman sometimes,” she said apologetically. She looked at Yunus and then at Ali again. “You both look so alike, a lot like your father. He was such a tall and handsome man.”
“ Thank you,” Yunus replied, forgiving her absent-mindedness, feeling pleased that she had noticed he looked like his father.
Ali didn’t mind being told that he looked like his father, but he wasn’t happy to hear that he looked anything like Yunus. As he was unable to think of an appropriate response, he followed them quietly into the lounge.
“ Look, who has come to visit,” his mother-in-law said jovially to the middle-aged man sitting on the beige leather sofa as if she was surprising him. “Ali, this is your father-in-law,” she said introducing him.
Ali’s father-in-law got up to greet them. He was smartly dressed in a beige suit that almost blended into the sofa. He was clean-shaven, which was quite unusual for a Muslim man of his age, and was very slim in distinct contrast to his wife. Ali discretely examined his teeth, and was pleased to see that they appeared to look normal, if a little tea stained.
His father-in-law looked very serious despite wearing a smile. He hugged Ali in the strange way that old Pakistani men greeted each other. He placed his head to Ali’s left cheek with the first hug, and then moved his cheek to Ali’s right cheek while giving him a second hug. Yunus looked on, enjoying the uncomfortable look on Ali’s face.
Turning to the coffee table in front of him, he picked up a garland made of fresh flowers. He noticed Ali eyeing them warily. “This is an old custom from Pakistan. If your father had been alive today, I would have been proud to place them on him. Instead your brother takes his place,” he said placing the garland around Yunus’s neck and then hugged him in the same manner. “It’s very sad that you both lost your father while so young,” he muttered sadly in Urdu.
“ Take a seat my son,” he said to Ali pointing to the sofa, and then gesturing to Yunus to do the same.
“ Thank you, Uncle,” Ali said, uncertain as to how he should address his father-in-law, and promptly sat down. Yunus took the space on the sofa next to him.
“ Don’t call me Uncle. We are going to be very close when you are married to my daughter. I’ll be like a father to you. You must call me Abbu Jee,” Ali’s father-in-law said sternly.
Abbu Jee meant father. It seemed insensitive of his father-in-law to think that he should be called this especially as their father had passed away shortly after Yunus’s wedding. Ali did not quite know how to reply.
Getting a sharp look from Yunus’s direction,
She led Ali and Yunus into the house through a long hallway. The smell of freshly cooked curry emanated from the nearby kitchen, making Ali’s stomach churn. It had a delicious aroma, but the thought of eating was the last thing on his mind. His stomach was volatile and his nerves in tatters as he wondered what his in-laws would make of him. It felt as if he were about to walk into an interview.
The walls of the hallway were covered in framed photographs of the weddings of various family members. “This is going to be my life,” Ali thought glumly seeing his future mapped out in the photographs on the walls.
Just before reaching the end of the hallway, Ali’s mother-in-law stopped and turned round as if remembering something. “Yunus,” she cried, finally acknowledging him. “I’m so sorry. I completely forgot you. I’m so absent minded. I was so excited at seeing my new son-in-law and had no thought for anything else. Please forgive me. I can be a forgetful old woman sometimes,” she said apologetically. She looked at Yunus and then at Ali again. “You both look so alike, a lot like your father. He was such a tall and handsome man.”
“ Thank you,” Yunus replied, forgiving her absent-mindedness, feeling pleased that she had noticed he looked like his father.
Ali didn’t mind being told that he looked like his father, but he wasn’t happy to hear that he looked anything like Yunus. As he was unable to think of an appropriate response, he followed them quietly into the lounge.
“ Look, who has come to visit,” his mother-in-law said jovially to the middle-aged man sitting on the beige leather sofa as if she was surprising him. “Ali, this is your father-in-law,” she said introducing him.
Ali’s father-in-law got up to greet them. He was smartly dressed in a beige suit that almost blended into the sofa. He was clean-shaven, which was quite unusual for a Muslim man of his age, and was very slim in distinct contrast to his wife. Ali discretely examined his teeth, and was pleased to see that they appeared to look normal, if a little tea stained.
His father-in-law looked very serious despite wearing a smile. He hugged Ali in the strange way that old Pakistani men greeted each other. He placed his head to Ali’s left cheek with the first hug, and then moved his cheek to Ali’s right cheek while giving him a second hug. Yunus looked on, enjoying the uncomfortable look on Ali’s face.
Turning to the coffee table in front of him, he picked up a garland made of fresh flowers. He noticed Ali eyeing them warily. “This is an old custom from Pakistan. If your father had been alive today, I would have been proud to place them on him. Instead your brother takes his place,” he said placing the garland around Yunus’s neck and then hugged him in the same manner. “It’s very sad that you both lost your father while so young,” he muttered sadly in Urdu.
“ Take a seat my son,” he said to Ali pointing to the sofa, and then gesturing to Yunus to do the same.
“ Thank you, Uncle,” Ali said, uncertain as to how he should address his father-in-law, and promptly sat down. Yunus took the space on the sofa next to him.
“ Don’t call me Uncle. We are going to be very close when you are married to my daughter. I’ll be like a father to you. You must call me Abbu Jee,” Ali’s father-in-law said sternly.
Abbu Jee meant father. It seemed insensitive of his father-in-law to think that he should be called this especially as their father had passed away shortly after Yunus’s wedding. Ali did not quite know how to reply.
Getting a sharp look from Yunus’s direction,
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