The Love and Lies of Rukhsana Ali

by Sabina Khan

  Nani lay back with a sigh.

  “That has always been the problem, Rukhsana. We must be the masters of our own destinies. I did not learn that until it was too late. You have to fight to take back control of your life. Sometimes you will hurt the ones you love the most. But in the end, it will always have to be your choice.”

  I nodded, reaching over to hug her.

  “I will fight, Nani. I promise I won’t give up.”

  At dinner that night, Mom talked about some other family who would be coming to check me out. Now that my plans for escape were more concrete, I could pretend this was all fine. It was unreal to witness the ease with which my mom could go on as if nothing was wrong.

  I wondered if Dad agreed with her or if he was just going along with her. Either way it didn’t matter anymore. Three more days and I would be out of here. Once I was back home in Seattle, they could hardly force me to marry anyone. Until then I just had to keep up appearances and let them believe that I’d warmed up to the idea.

  The next day I went along with the whole charade, dressing in one of the new outfits I had bought with Shaila. She suggested I wear a long turquoise tunic paired with loose pants that were gathered at the feet. I thought I looked nice when I looked at myself in the full-length mirror by the window. I had silver earrings that matched the silver embroidery on the front and on the cuffs of the flared sleeves. After Shaila finished doing my makeup, she stepped back to survey her handiwork and smiled appreciatively.

  “He’s not going to be able to keep his eyes off you,” she said with a grin.

  “I’m glad you find this funny,” I said, glaring at her in mock anger. The only reason we were able to joke about this was because everything had been arranged for me to leave.

  When the family arrived, they introduced themselves as the Choudhurys. “This is our son, Sohail,” Mr. Choudhury announced rather pompously. “He finished his MBA two years ago from Columbia University and now he is working as a financial consultant.”

  I arranged my face into a suitably impressed expression as we all settled into the living room.

  This visit was actually not as bad as the last one. In fact, I rather liked the whole family. Their son, Sohail, reminded me of Irfan, and I was sure he would make some lucky girl very happy. Unfortunately for him, that girl would not be me.

  After dinner, his mother suggested that perhaps we would like to take a walk in the garden. My mom could barely contain herself. I was surprised she didn’t push us through the French doors.

  We walked through the jasmine-scented garden over to the little koi pond in the far corner. The fronds of the tall coconut trees and date palms swayed in the slight breeze that blew in gently from the lake behind my grandmother’s house. We passed the tree where I had carved my initials as a little girl.

  “Are these your initials?” he asked, running his fingers over them. “R.A. Rukhsana Ali.”

  I nodded, suddenly shy.

  “So, tell me, Rukhsana Ali,” he said. “What should I know about you?”

  I looked up at him, his face illuminated by the moonlight. The fullness of his lips softened the lines of his chiseled face.

  “Why don’t you tell me what you want to know?”

  “Well, from what I hear, you’ve been accepted to Caltech with a full scholarship.”

  “Yes, I have,” I said.

  “First of all, congrats on that,” he said, bowing with a flourish.

  “Thank you.” A smile threatened to break free.

  “But I’m curious,” he continued. “Obviously Caltech is a big deal, so I’m just wondering why you would agree to this meeting?”

  He smiled disarmingly, the left corner of his mouth lifting slightly more than the right.

  It was a good question, but not one I could answer honestly.

  “It’s just my parents. They’re worried if I go away to university, I’ll find a boyfriend and elope or something.” This was only partially untrue. Until recently, that had been one of the reasons for my mom’s reluctance to let me go to Caltech.

  “Understandable,” he mused. “So, you’re not really interested in any of this?”

  How much could I say without getting myself in trouble with my parents? It wasn’t worth it. I was leaving in two days, and as long as I just went along everything would be fine.

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just that I have to make sure whoever I agree to marry will not stop me from going to Caltech.” That sounded reasonable.

  “Of course, that makes complete sense. It’s not every day that one gets an opportunity like that.”

  Suddenly he reached behind me and plucked a rajanigandha from the tree and presented it to me. He seemed to be just as nervous as I was, so I smiled and took the flower from him. I tucked it in my hair, securing it with one of the bobby pins.

  “So, tell me more about yourself,” he said. “What do you do for fun?”

  “I don’t really have a lot of free time with school and everything, but I do watch a lot of documentaries.”

  How lame can I be?

  “Documentaries, really?” His eyes lit up. “What kinds do you like?”

  “Oh man, so I love watching anything that has to do with the universe, naturally, so shows like Cosmos and the NOVA science programs. Also, anything narrated by David Attenborough, like Planet Earth. There’s just something about his voice that is so equally soothing and compelling.”

  “Serious question though,” he said. “Carl Sagan or Neil deGrasse Tyson?”

  “Easy. Carl Sagan,” I answered without hesitation.

  “Good. You passed the test,” he said, a huge grin spread across his face.

  “What do you do in your spare time?” I said.

  “Well, work keeps me pretty busy. But when I have free time I like to play squash. And cricket.”

  “Rukhsana, Sohail, bhitore asho.” Mom was calling us back inside and I suddenly wished we had more time. Not that it mattered, because I’d be gone soon, but he seemed like a pretty nice guy.

  When we rejoined them, the Choudhurys were saying their goodbyes. After they left, I disappeared to my room.

  “Mrs. Choudhury called this morning,” Mom said when I finally came down just before noon the next day. I stared at her blankly.

  “Sohail’s mother,” she said with pursed lips. “She wanted to know if we would let you go to dinner with him. He wants to get to know you better before he makes a decision.” The frown lines on her forehead deepened.

  “What did you tell her?” I didn’t really care either way.

  “I said yes. What else could I say?” I didn’t know what she wanted me to say to that, so I said nothing. We sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes.

  “I need you to be very careful about what you say to him,” she said finally.

  I shouldn’t tell him I’m a lesbian, then?

  “How about you just tell me what you want me to say.”

  Mom narrowed her eyes slightly at me. “Just don’t create any more trouble for me, okay? Do you think you can manage that?”

  “Yes, yes, don’t worry. I won’t say anything to embarrass you.” I got up and left the room before I said anything I might regret later.

  Malik Bhai drove me to Arirang House, the Korean restaurant Sohail had suggested for dinner.

  “No need for people to see you two alone in the car,” Mom had said when she refused to let him pick me up. “If this doesn’t work out then I don’t want people making lewd comments about you.”

  But being seen in a restaurant with him was fine? Mom’s logic made no sense to me whatsoever.

  It was fairly crowded when I got there. Sohail was waiting for me in front of the entrance and we were shown to a table in the corner. We ordered some bulgogi and glass noodles, then sat back and began to talk.

  “So, Rukhsana, I have a few serious questions to ask you before I can make a decision on whether to move forward with this arrangement.”

  He seemed different
from the other night, more full of himself, and I did not like it one bit. But all I had to do was get through this dinner and one more day.

  “Go ahead,” I said as nonchalantly as I could.

  “First of all, do you consider yourself a religious person?” he asked after the waiter had brought us our drinks.

  “That depends,” I said. “What kind of person do you consider to be religious?”

  He smiled at my evasiveness.

  “You know … do you pray five times a day, do you fast during Ramadan, do you abstain from alcohol, et cetera?”

  “I used to pray five times a day but it dwindled down over the years, and now I just don’t pray at all. I do fast during Ramadan though, and I don’t like alcohol.”

  “But you’ve tried it?” He watched me closely and I knew I had to be very careful. I didn’t want to give him any excuse to say something negative about me to his parents.

  “No,” I lied. “I just don’t like the way people act when they’ve had it.”

  He seemed to ponder that for a moment.

  “Have you had any boyfriends?”

  Now, this I could answer with complete honesty.

  “No, never.” I surprised myself with my calmness. Normally this line of questioning would make me furious. But right now, this was just a means to an end. If he agreed to marry me, it would get my parents off my back long enough for me to get away. I couldn’t think beyond tomorrow at this point.

  He smiled at me and I had no idea why.

  “You know what, this isn’t funny anymore,” he said abruptly, stifling a laugh.

  What?

  “I’m sorry, I was just messing with you.” He smiled again, disarmingly.

  “What do you mean?” I was totally confused.

  “I thought it would be funny if I pretended to be one of those guys. You know, interviewing a potential bride and all?” He was grinning now, in a charmingly boyish way. I didn’t know what to make of it.

  “Okay, so now you’re saying you’re not one of those guys?” I didn’t share his amusement.

  “I’m not, I swear. To be honest, I hate this whole idea of arranged marriage and all, but my parents forced me.”

  “They forced you to screen women, or they forced you to take me out to dinner?” He was weird, this one.

  “No, the dinner was my idea,” he said. “I thought we were starting to hit it off the other night, right?”

  Right, but I didn’t want him to know that yet.

  “Okay, so why exactly do you want to get to know me better?” This whole conversation was making my head hurt. I didn’t have time for this.

  “Because you seem like an interesting person and I like interesting people.”

  Oh, so now he was hitting on me. It would be so awesome if I could just tell him I was gay.

  “And what are you planning to tell your parents, then?” I was genuinely curious.

  “Well, I was hoping that if we got to know each other better, we could decide together if getting married was a good idea.”

  “And your parents would go for that?”

  “Well, let’s just say, they would have to choose between that or me just refusing to go along with them anymore.” So, he intended to play hardball with his parents. I could get on board with that. I didn’t know exactly how, but this could give me an advantage.

  “Okay.” I nodded slowly. “What do I tell my parents?”

  Could I trust him not to turn this around and let me take the fall? I couldn’t let that happen. All I had to do was let my parents believe I was still willing to listen to them, just long enough for me to get away.

  “Just tell them the truth. That we want to spend more time with each other before we make a commitment.” He paused when the food came.

  “If you want,” he continued once the waiter had set everything on the table, “I can tell my parents that this is all coming from me, and then you just have to agree.”

  “Well, it is all coming from you,” I said, a little more sharply than I intended. I didn’t exactly want to push him away. If this worked, he could buy me valuable time.

  “I kind of get the feeling that you’re not particularly thrilled with the whole idea either. Or am I wrong?”

  Okay, so he was intuitive. I couldn’t exactly hold that against him. I decided to go with my gut.

  “You’re right, I’m not. I just want to get back in time to graduate and go to Caltech in the fall. Marriage isn’t part of my plans at all right now.”

  He smiled and it was just a little too smug for me to let it go.

  “If you repeat any of this to your parents or mine, I’ll just deny everything.”

  He laughed and this time it felt real. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

  “Listen, Rukhsana, you have nothing to worry about. This isn’t what I want either, so I want to get out of it as much as you do. No offense.”

  “None taken,” I replied with the first genuine smile I’d given him. “But you know how it is.”

  He nodded and then we finally dug in. The spicy beef bulgogi was delicious and the glass noodles were the perfect complement.

  “Tell me more about yourself,” Sohail said, placing his chopsticks in the holder.

  “What would you like to know?” I reluctantly put my chopsticks down.

  “Anything, you know, like what’s your favorite TV show?”

  “That’s easy. I’m addicted to Grey’s Anatomy at the moment.”

  “I’ve never seen it, but aren’t they on like season twenty-seven by this point?” He laughed. “What about Friends? I’ve been bingeing that recently.”

  “Oh my God, of all the shows on Netflix you chose Friends?” I said, playfully serious.

  “Isn’t it like a classic American sitcom?”

  “Technically, yes. It’s just SO white.”

  “True. But it is pretty funny. I’ve also been watching One Day at a Time. Now, that’s not white at all. And Brown Nation.”

  “Okay, okay. You get a pass this time,” I said with a wink. “And I love both those shows.”

  “Do you keep up with any Hindi shows?” he asked.

  “Well, not as much as my mom would like, but I tend to get my fill when my Aunty Meena comes over,” I said, laughing. “She keeps us up-to-date with all the latest popular movies and serials. Have you watched Zindagi Gulzar Hai?”

  “The Pakistani serial?” he said. “Yes, it’s so good.”

  “Fawad Khan is a dream.”

  It was so nice to spend an hour just talking about perfectly normal things like TV and movies; it was clear that we had a lot in common. Later, as we shared a cup of shaved ice topped with chocolate and nuts, he looked at me pensively. I thought about how much Ariana would have liked him and my heart ached.

  “You know, if things were different and you weren’t going back to Seattle, I have a feeling we would be good friends,” he said solemnly.

  “I’ll drink to that,” I said, raising my glass of water. If he noticed the sadness in my eyes, he made no mention of it.

  That night I dreamed about Ariana. We were together the way we used to be back in Seattle. I woke up with my pillow soaked in tears, and as I got ready to face the day, there was one thought that kept me going. Soon I would be back and I would do whatever it took to convince Ariana that I loved her more than anything else in my life. In my heart, I hoped she would forgive me and everything would go back to the way it was.

  The next morning, I found Mom in a particularly pleasant mood at breakfast.

  “Sohail’s mother called again,” she said, smiling from ear to ear. “He must have said something nice about you to her, because she thinks he will say yes.”

  “How delightful,” I said.

  “Isn’t it?” Mom said. Clearly, she didn’t know how sarcasm worked. “But she said he still wants to spend some more time with you.”

  I played with the ends of my scarf.

  “I hope he decides soon. Otherwise we are just w
asting time.”

  That afternoon Shaila and I went out to buy some saris that Mom wanted to gift to the potential groom’s family.

  “I can’t believe this is your last day here,” Shaila said as we decided which of the many, many sari shops to enter first.

  “I know. I’m really going to miss you, Shaila.” My eyes began to water and I turned away, not really wanting to cry here in the mall.

  “It’s okay. Maybe Alam and I can visit you and Ariana in California,” Shaila said. “You could show us around. Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

  It really would. Maybe it didn’t have to be so final after all. I would still have a relationship with Shaila after I moved to California.

  We spent a few hours looking at gorgeous jamdhani saris, the handwoven silk and intricate motifs making the selection very difficult. The shopkeeper draped each one on himself so that we could get the full effect of the design. There were ones with floral or geometric patterns, each woven with gold or silver thread. We finally picked out several that Shaila thought would be suitable enough and decided to call it a day.

  I sensed something was wrong as soon as we walked back into the house later that evening and I saw Mom in the living room. There was something about the way she sat, completely still, that made me nervous. I motioned to Shaila, asking her to leave. I didn’t want to take her down with me.

  Mom’s face was ashen as she looked at me. She clutched something in her hand. As I got closer, I saw it. My passport. My heart dropped when I saw the little blue book in her hands.

  “Why were you hiding your passport under the mattress?”

  Why were you snooping in my room? I wanted to shout, but I said nothing.

  How much does she know?

  “All this time we thought you were coming to your senses. But actually, you were deceiving us.”

  They would know about deception. They’re masters of it.

  Dad had been sitting quietly the whole time, but now he stood up.

  “Give me your cell phone,” he demanded.

  I hesitated and he came closer.

  “I said, give it to me.” His voice was dangerously quiet.