*****
The marquee was over-flowing. People went in and out of it carrying plates of food. Rongeng music blared from one corner, lilting drumbeats and the string music emitted from the gamelan combined to give a haunting Malay tune that speaks of Arab-Indonesian-Portuguese-Chinese influence. A group of people danced bare foot to the music.
Hussein emerged from the tent with Shalimar next to him. They were immediately surrounded by well-wishers. They had come from all over Kemun to pay their respects and offer their congratulations to Hussein. They were proud to have him, so young yet already a Deputy Minister in no less than the Prime Minister’s office, represent their state. They were effusive over Shalimar and her pregnancy. Prayers were offered on his behalf. Hussein’s head reeled from their effusive messages. He smiled and bowed until he felt a twitch developing on one side of his face.
“Here,” said Ghazali handing him a scented towel that he had taken from a passing servant. “Tengku Shalimar’s pregnancy seems to have boosted your rating even higher. Look at them. They are falling over at her feet.”
“See what I told you,” a voice said over his shoulder. He turned around to face his mother. “If you were to let Noraidin go, who knows? You might be Prime Minister in the future. She is definitely baggage you can do without.”
“Please, no more of this,” said Hussein. He turned and stalked away only to bump into another group of well-wishers.
*****
“Come, let’s go over there,” said Ahmad to his sister who was standing alone, temporarily abandoned in the crowd. She was watching her husband’s retreating back.
Ahmad took her by the elbow and deftly wove his way through the crowd until they reached the pergola. “There,” he pointed to a bench under the dark shade of a woody climbing plant overhanging it. Shalimar looked at the masses of pink blooms and leafy tendrils swaying in the breeze. She took a deep breath of the scent and sighed. She sat down; the seat was a welcome respite after hours of standing and small talk.
“You must be tired,” he said. His tone was gentle; he seemed concerned. Her pregnancy was not obvious, not unless you knew.
She was surprised at his solicitous manner even though he had been almost kind ever since she had agreed to his plans. By default, they were her plans now. They were accomplices, she thought. She was amazed at how her life had suddenly improved as a result of that one promise, that one word, she had given to Ahmad. She was shocked by her own thoughts and her eventual acceptance of the situation.
“Datin Faridah is pleased,” said Ahmad. “She wants you to work on Hussein. Make him feel good, needed. She wants you to flatter him, work your way into his heart. With Noraidin spending more time in KL, she feels you will succeed. And I think you will too.”
He bent close to her ear.
“Remember, our family fortunes depend on you. We have lost almost everything except our royal connections. And your mother-in-law wants that connection to complete her ambition for status. Remember, your child depends on you. If Hussein casts you off that will be the end of your child’s future. In fact, I cannot think how we would have been able to allow it to come into the world but for your marriage to Hussein; the shame it would bring on our family. You understand don’t you? On no account can Hussein know that he is not the father.”
He smiled and reached over to touch her head, gently tucking a stray lock under her hijab.
She felt overwhelmed by the gesture; she had never received even the simplest act of kindness from him since their parents died. Her hand strayed once more to her abdomen, as it had done repeatedly throughout the day. She needed to seek assurance from her child that she was doing the right thing; that she was doing it for this life growing within her. She bowed her head.
“I’ll try,” she said.
“It is not that difficult, is it?” he teased. “You like him, don’t you?”
She blushed. Yes, she admitted to herself, it would not be difficult to love Hussein. Hussein’s kindness had won her heart and if it were not for her love of Ali, she would not have objected to the arranged marriage. “Ali!” her lips moved to form his name silently. He was now gone from her. All that remained was his child, and she could have it only if she was with Hussein.”
*****
An Mei and Casey stood at the verge. They looked at the milling crowd, the band playing music and the dancing men and women. Their eyes surveyed the scene scouring it for a sight of Hussein.
“There he is,” cried An Mei pointing to a figure leaving the marquee.
“That’s him?” asked Casey in surprise. She looked at the man walking towards them. She saw little of the Hussein she knew in Oxford. Gone were the flamboyant flared trousers and ponytail. In its place, walking towards them, eyes anxious, was a man with short hair, resplendent in silk trousers and sarong; but a man seemingly with a burden. He walked slowly as though he wanted to gain time to collect himself.
Maybe she was imagining it, thought Casey, but in the past, he would have ran to them; at the very least he would have waved.
His progress towards them was slow. People continually went up to him. She observed how they greeted him. They shook his hand and placed theirs on their heart in return as a sign of respect.
No, she was not being fair, she concluded. Perhaps, his position did not allow it now. He had to show restraint, even amongst close friends. She must not allow any prejudice to colour her views of him.
They waited on the verge in silence. Casey could feel the tension in An Mei; she could almost imagine the thoughts that must be crossing her mind. She squeezed An Mei’s hand.
“The last time I saw him was when I found out that Shalimar was expecting.” An Mei’s face turned red with shame. In her mind’s eye, she saw herself again in the room with her husband and Shalimar; her feeling of utter dejection; her loss of control, and her total breakdown.
“It was just over a week ago, but it feels like a lifetime. Now, everyone is celebrating the event; this party was organised by the town people of Kemun for them,” said An Mei bitterly.
Casey followed the direction of An Mei’s eyes. She saw people part to make way for a girl in a green pastel silk ensemble. Even from where she was standing Casey could see her grace, her beauty. The girl went to Hussein and took his arm; she smiled up at him.
“Shalimar?” Casey asked An Mei.
An Mei turned suddenly to face Casey. “I cannot take much more of this,” she cried. “I want to run, to run away and be free. Maybe it would be best, not only for me but for Hussein as well.”
She looked towards her husband.
“To be free from a love that is so intense and meets with such adversity, a love that has devoured my existence for the past year.” Her face was no longer a stoic mask; tears were coursing unchecked down it.
“To be free to think and do ordinary things, even something as simple as wearing a skirt to work. I look at you Casey. And I think of myself. My future is nothing in comparison, nothing but a waiting game for a husband who I share with someone else. I try, I try so hard to believe in him, to believe in us, but I am being worn down.” She caught hold of her friend’s arm. “Let’s go,” she said.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! Yes! I am sure. Let’s leave them to their happiness.”
Hussein looked up at the sudden commotion. He saw their parting figures. He made as though to follow them. He felt Shalimar’s hand tighten on his arm.
“Please,” Shalimar beseeched him silently. He looked up and saw people looking at him expectantly. He saw Ghazali, his mother and father, their faces anxious, pleading. Let her go, they all seemed to be saying to him. A momentous silence followed. People held their breath. The seconds ticked by. Then he turned his back on the departing figures to face the crowd. A sigh of relief went up from the group of people around him. They began to clap.
Chapter 30
Casey and Jeremy met at the Merlin Hotel in Jalan Treacher. The coffee house was almost empty. A wa
iter hovered near their table waiting for their order.
“Coffee,” they both said, anxious to get rid of him.
“Just coffee? Anything to eat? We have specials today. Durian cakes made just this...”
“Just coffee will be fine.”
The waiter closed his note pad with exaggerated slowness and leaned over to rearrange the coffee cups and cutlery already laid out on the table. Casey looked at Jeremy and broke out in a wide grin. She waited until the waiter left, and then shook her head in amusement.
“I thought he would never leave us alone.”
He returned her smile; but he was preoccupied; he seemed to be looking at her, yet she felt he was not seeing her. He had called her to set up the meeting.
“I am leaving for Rome in two days time. My time here has run out, so I have to go back to the old grind,” she said. Please, she pleaded in silence, say you do not want to see me leave.
“I called to ask you what happened,” he replied. He seemed not to have heard her say she was leaving. He was wrapped up in his own thoughts and distracted from all things except for the one thought on his mind; An Mei. She had not answered anyone’s calls.
Hurt and embarrassed, Casey replied quickly. “Of course! We went to Kemun and it was while waiting for Hussein to join us that, out of the blue, An Mei announced that she did not wish to go on with the farce and that she wanted to be out of the situation she was in. I can’t blame her. No matter whether Hussein has lied or not about his actual relationship with Shalimar, the future seems bleak for An Mei. The thing is I did not say that to her. In fact, I did not say much at all. I just let her talk it out of her system and, it would appear, that talking has enabled her to make a decision.”
“Do you think she will stick to her decision? She has made similar ones before and each time he has been able to talk her out of it.”
“An Mei is very, very hurt. She is also very proud. I think, this time, she has been pushed too far. If he had run after us as we were leaving, she might have had a change of heart. But not now; not when he publicly let her go.”
Jeremy said nothing.
“Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t think that she was only trying to make a statement when she stormed out. She genuinely wanted to end it all. Even then, if he had run after us, he might still have stood a chance,” continued Casey. “It was very painful for me to watch her vacillate; one minute she believes in Hussein and was making excuses for him, then the next, she was uncertain, even suspicious.”
“It hurts me too,” Jeremy said.
Casey looked up sharply.
“Only because I care for her; she was a daughter to my mother,” he said quickly, conscious that he had to explain himself.
“Of course,” said Casey. Her eyes did not leave his face.
“What was your impression of Hussein?” asked Jeremy. He was anxious to shift attention from himself.
“Obviously, I have little to report on Hussein. I did not have time to observe him, except that he is changed, at least in his dress and manners. Not the rebel he was in Oxford. On the contrary, quite a conformist.”
Jeremy shrugged. “It is not important now. I know enough. You are quite right. He conforms; and that is why he is such a fast rising star. He is just made out to be a symbol of dynamism because he has the ability to talk. But what he says is all planned and mapped out for him.”
Chapter 31
Nelly opened the door. She peeped in. It was dark in the room; the curtains were drawn tight. There was utter silence. She went straight to the windows and drew back the curtains. Not satisfied with the paltry light that seeped in, she threw open the wooden shutters causing them to rattle and creak. The window catch that anchored them shut swung loosely. Light flooded into the room and the curtains moved gently with the breeze that blew in. She took a deep breath and then turned to face the bed. There was no one in it. Alarmed, she looked to the other end of the room.
“Hello Aunt Nelly,” said An Mei in a small voice. She was in a corner of the room in the armchair where she normally sat to read. But there were no books or magazines in sight. Her feet were drawn up and tucked under her. In her pyjamas, and with her hair, ruffled and loose, she looked young, lost and vulnerable.
“You have locked yourself in this room for the past two days, ever since you came back from Kemun. Ah Kun said that you rushed out yesterday and came back again in the afternoon and locked yourself in again. What’s going on?”
“I needed to be alone. But I did come out and I did eventually unlock the door.”
“Well, that’s a good start.” Nelly went over to An Mei and kissed her head. “Can you talk now?”
“Yes. I just needed to sort myself out. I just needed time to myself.”
Nelly saw the empty tray on the coffee table and smiled.
“At least you have had something to eat,” she said.
“Yes, I asked Ah Kun for food when she knocked on my door. You see I needed to eat.”
“Of course you need to eat, silly girl,” said Nelly holding An Mei’s head to her bosom. “Shall I send for more food?”
“Later, I want to tell you why I needed to eat. Please, let me,” she said as she saw that Nelly was about to interrupt. “I need to eat because I am expecting and I do not want to hurt my baby by starving.”
Nelly grew very still. Her arms fell to her side. They hung lifeless. She sat down heavily on the pouf next to An Mei. “Are you sure? How did you...? When did you find out?”
“Yesterday. I was sick and suddenly I realised that my period was late. It never dawned on me until I became sick that I could be pregnant. I went out because I needed to see a doctor. We did some tests. He confirmed it.”
An Mei was calm and collected; her face was serene and her gaze direct.
“I plan to have the baby.”
“And Hussein? Are you going to tell him? Are you going back to him?”
Uncertainty showed in her face. “I have to wait and see.”
*****
In the weeks that followed, An Mei returned to work with the bank. Her daily routine assumed a normality not unlike before she was married. In an attempt to forget, she threw herself into her work both at the bank and in her father’s shops. Hussein did not contact her. Through the media, she traced his rise in the government. Photographs of him and Shalimar featured regularly in the newspapers. Glamorous and exciting were the words used to describe them. Rumours abounded that he would soon become a full minister in the Prime Minister’s department. Her acceptance of the inevitability helped her to accept that her marriage was over. She buried her sadness deep inside and, if she felt bitter, she did not show it. She directed her energies to the child growing in her. She was still not showing and hence invited little comment or questions. But she felt the change in her body. She examined it when bathing; she saw the filling out of her breasts, the little blue veins in them. A tiny bulge developed in her abdomen. She felt it timorously, caressing it with reverence and wonderment.
An Mei realised that as her womb expanded and the bulge grew, people would notice and word was bound to get back to Hussein and her in-laws. Still, she postponed telling Hussein because she did not know what she wanted to do. She knew what she did not want. She did not wish to have her child grow up in an environment where it could see its own mother despised by the family that she had married into. She did not want her baby to be the centre of a tug of war for affection. She also did not know if her parents-in-law would welcome her child when they were already expecting a grandchild from a daughter-in-law they favoured. She did not want to share her husband’s love. Yet did she really want to give him up, now that she was having his child? So she waited for her mind to clear.
*****
Ah Kun swept into the room, tray in hand, and closed the door with a flick of her foot.
“Your Aunt has asked me to prepare this for you; bird’s nest soup. This is the best brand and the herbal shopkeeper, you know the one at the corner of Petaling S
treet, kept it especially for us. It took me the whole night with a pair of tweezers to get all the feathers out. We do not want to eat feathers do we?” she asked jovially. “This is very good for you in your condition. Tomorrow, I shall prepare another dish that is also very good for you; chicken with herbs, steamed for ten hours until it is almost blackened.”
“Please, no more. I shall get fat,” protested An Mei, getting up from her desk to take the tray from Ah Kun.
“Fat? No chance. You have been working so hard you are unlikely to get fat. You have to think of the baby. Do you good if you fit in some rest as well.”
An Mei smiled. “What’s this?” she said taking an envelope from the tray.
“For you. The postman delivered it this afternoon and I forgot to give it to you earlier. Remember! Don’t let the soup get cold. I shall come back later to collect the tray.” Ah Kun closed the door gently behind her.
An Mei sat down and took the tray from the coffee table and carefully balanced it on her knee. She lifted the lid releasing the trapped aroma and breathed in deeply. Mmm. Good! No bitter herbs! She took a spoonful, gulped it down expecting the worst, and then licked her lips in pleasant surprise. Ah Kun had used rock sugar to prepare the dish. She took another spoonful and then turned her attention to the envelope. She looked at the back; there were no indication of where it could have come from. She slit it open and took another spoon of the soup. Lazily she flipped open the one page letter. She looked uncomprehendingly at the scrawl.
I DIVORCE YOU. I DIVORCE YOU. I DIVORCE YOU. Large writing that stared out at her in obscene boldness.
She dropped the spoon. It fell with a loud clang against the bowl and bounced to the floor. It crashed breaking into smithereens. The tray slid off her knee joining the debris of broken ceramics. The commotion brought Nelly running in.
Bitter Sweet Harvest Page 18