Page 1 of First Comes Marriage
1
Zafar
‘Let me get this straight.’ With the strongest of holds on his reflexes, Zafar stopped himself from rolling his eyes. The last thing he wanted or needed right now was his father talking to him as if he were a belligerent teenager – he was thirty-three not thirteen.
Nasir Saeed puffed out his chest, ready to launch into a self-indulgent monologue. As if he hadn’t got himself straight twice already, albeit using different words each time. ‘Reshma went to Mombasa ten days ago for Ruqayyah’s daughter’s wedding and you didn’t go with her.’
Like he had twice already, Zafar nodded, taking a fortifying sip of his coffee. He wanted to lean back and savour the caffeine boost, but if he did that, his father might well blow a hole through the ceiling, thinking that he wasn’t taking this conversation – read, telling-off – seriously.
It wasn’t often Zafar found himself on the receiving end of a verbal pasting from his father. He was the model his father frequently used as a yardstick for his younger brothers and there was an implicit expectation that he would lead his brothers by example. Being at the receiving end of criticism from his father – or anyone else, for that matter – was such a rare occurrence that Zafar didn’t know how to act. Was he supposed to stand up or stayseated? Make eye contact or look down into the dark depths of his coffee?
He decided to stay where he was and switched between making eye contact with his dad and breaking it, while they sat in the room designated as an office in their family home, where his father was catching up on all he’d missed over the past six weeks while he’d been holidaying in Canada with his wife. He’d landed yesterday, while his wife was due back next week, after spending a bit morehusband-freetime with her family.
‘Why? What were you thinking, son?’
In all his blustering, this was the first time his father had actually asked him for a reason. Zafar took a deep breath and put his mug down in front of him.
‘The hotel deal is at a crucial stage, Dad. I need to be available for it and I can’t afford any distractions.’ The chances were that Reshma was probably happy that he wasn’t there, givinghera chance to have somehusband-freetime with her family while she enjoyed the various wedding celebrations taking place. She hadn’t said as much, but the thought appealed to his conscience. She got to spend time with her family without him and he got to focus on his work. A win-win scenario.
‘This is not acceptable by any stretch of the imagination, Zafar.’ His father smacked his hand on the table. ‘You’ve not been married coming onto thirty-five years where you can do things like that. You’ve only been married for a year. It’s the first time she’s gone for an event on her family’s side since her own wedding and her husband’s nowhere to be seen. How do you think that reflects? On you? On her? And, most importantly, on the Saeed family name and our reputation? We’ve been family friends of the Mirs since my late father and Reshma’s lategrandfather’s childhood. Just under a century. That’s not something to be ignored.’
Zafar squirmed in his seat. His father wasn’t wrong, if a bit dramatic.
But Zafar had different priorities. He had promised his grandfather that he’d take care of the family business just like his grandfather had. That promise preceded all of this – a wedding in the Mir family, his own marriage and relationship with Reshma, keeping up appearances with his in-laws. It even preceded any feelings he might have, which, at that point in time, told him that he knew what he had to do and there was no reason to feel guilty about it.
The door to the study had been left ajar and as it moved open a bit more, Zafar turned to find his grandmother in the doorframe. The menace had probably been standing there the whole time, listening to his dad chew him out and waiting for the right moment to come and interfere.
She swanned in, bringing a wave of her floral perfume in with her. His grandmother, Mumtaz Saeed, while small and dainty, packed a punch enough to fell the greatest of giants. She held the strings of the Saeed family in her little hands and knew exactly when to tighten her grip and when to loosen it.
She walked towards him and dropped a kiss on the top of his head. She could only manage the gesture when he was sitting and she was standing. He succumbed to her affection and then stood up, letting her have his seat, and she took it like a queen taking the throne.
‘Did you not say anything to him, Amma?’ His father addressed his mother. ‘I expected better from him.’
That twisted the knife for Zafar, but he didn’t let it show on his face as he moved towards the faux fireplace and leaned against the mantel, swirling the dregs of his coffee.
‘I did, sweetheart, but Zafar said that his work was at a stage where he couldn’t leave it and so I didn’t push. Perhaps I should have. In fact, I’ve decided that he needs to go to Mombasa after Reshma.’
Zafar straightened at that. Daadi’s voice held a note of steel he seldom heard. It brooked no argument and he had a slim-to-none chance of getting her to change her mind when she took that tone.
‘I’ve also decided that I’ll go with him. It’ll be better if there’s another family member there. I was familiar with Reshma’s grandmother – even if we didn’t always see eye to eye – and I’m fond of the Mir children. Well, at least two of them.’
His father sat back in his chair, his steepled fingers resting against his lips, very Bond-villain-like as he regarded him for a moment before lowering his hands to grip the chair’s armrests and looking at Daadi. ‘Yes, Amma. I agree. I think you going with him will add credence and show support from the head of our family.’
Zafar pushed away from the mantel and took a few steps towards the desk, regarding first his grandmother – who smiled at him warmly – and then his father – who scrutinised him with a pinched mouth and raised eyebrows. ‘Very well. I’ll book tickets so we can make it for the wedding and the reception. That’ll give me some time to sort things out on the work front.’
‘No, no. There’s no need to do that.’ His father shook his head. ‘You’ll take the first available flight and stay there for as long as the wedding events are running. Leave the visas to me, I’ll sort them out. And as for work, you seem to forget, young man, that while I might be semi-retired, it doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how to do the job which I taught you alongside your grandfather. Have some faithin your brother, your best friend and the people we’ve recruited to work with us. I can always step in to help as and when needed. You need to be in Mombasa as of yesterday.’ His tone brooked no argument.
‘Nasir is right, my angel,’ Daadi said, looking at him solemnly. ‘It’s only right that you take out time and spend it with Reshma. She’s such a treasure, does so much for all of us, so it’ll be nice to do something with her on her side of the family, yes?’
Another twist of the knife.
Knowing there was nothing for it, Zafar excused himself, leaving his father and grandmother to talk. He made his way to the kitchen and found his youngest brother wrestling with the oven. He put his mug in the sink and then turned and leaned back against the worktop, watching Haroon, who adjusted the shelves in the oven and turned it on.
‘What are you making?’
‘A Sunday roast. I was craving roast potatoes. But then they’re nice with gravy. And then I thought that I might as well do some meat with the gravy and before I knew it’ – he clicked his fingers – ‘I was doing the whole thing. There’s enough for everyone. I don’t know how to cook for just one person. It’s a dinner party or nothing for me.’
Zafar laughed because he understood that logic perfectly. Haroon had only ever cooked on a scale that fed the entire family, so he only knew how to cook for six or more people. Thankfully he didn’t cook too often.
