Namaste New York: A Novel
Page 35
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When Shoaib reached the family's home in Long Island, the tension from the previous night's fight still lingered. Shoaib had asked to borrow Hina's laptop before dinner, and she told him it was still in her school bag, since she was helping her mother prepare dinner and wouldn't begin her studies until afterwards. Hina had no idea that Nadira had put anything in the bag, and when Shoaib found the rose and the card, he was furious. He had stormed around the house for hours, screaming at Hina and pounding his fists against the walls and furniture, ignoring his mother's pleas to calm down.
If it was possible, Shoaib was even angrier now. Beating the crap out of Vijay had been strangely unsatisfying, and Shoaib had locked on to another target for his rage. He slammed the front door and headed directly to Hina's room. He didn't bother knocking, but flung the door open. Hina was reading a book, or at least pretending to. She saw the look in her brother's eyes, and she jumped off the bed and huddled in the corner, trying to make herself as small as possible. Hina's mother had heard Shoaib come into the house, and she ran into Hina's room after him.
Shoaib went to his sister and pulled her up by her long hair, twisting it around his fist. Hina screamed in pain. "If you talk to him or see that kafir again, I will forget that you are my sister. Do you understand me?" Shoaib grabbed her jaw with his other hand and squeezed.
Hina cried out and her mother grabbed at her son's hand that was still twisted around Hina's hair and tried to pry his fingers open. "Shoaib! Leave her!" But Shoaib released his grip only long enough to grab a section of hair closer to her head and twisted again. Hina desperately clawed at his hand and shouted at him.
"Bhai, please!" she sobbed.
"She is going to bring shame to all of us!" Shoaib warned his mother while glaring at Hina, his nostrils flaring with anger.
"I will talk to her, Shoaib! You leave her first," his mother demanded as she used her fists against Shoaib's back.
"You drink all the time, bhai, and you do everything you want! Do you think that doesn't bring this family shame?" Hina shouted bitterly.
Shoaib released her hair from his grasp. "You cunt!" he bellowed, delivering a stinging slap across Hina's face and sending her reeling into the wall.
His mother was furious, and slapped Shoaib across the face. "Stop it!" she screamed at her son.
Shoaib instinctively lunged towards his mother but got control over himself at the last second, his hand suspended in mid-air. She stood defiantly in front of him, almost as though she were daring him to hit her, which is how Hina's father found them when he got to Hina's room. He said nothing, but only glared at everyone. Shoaib put his hand to his stinging cheek and slunk out of the room with his tail between his legs.
Hina's father turned to his wife. "From now on, she is not going to school," he said. It was not a suggestion or a request.
"Maybe we can send her to a different school," she gently suggested.
He pointed a finger in her face. "Don't argue with me! Because of you, she is spoiled."
She bowed her head. Her husband had been against the idea of allowing Hina an education in the first place, but because she'd received a fellowship from a large corporation, Hina was not financially dependent on him, and he hadn't wanted to deal with all the arguments he knew he'd have to have with her if he had forbidden her to attend university. But now the situation had turned, and she knew that her husband would take full advantage of the change to force his will on their daughter.
"I have called a few people, and tomorrow they will see her. You'd better get her ready," he warned as left the room and slammed the door behind him.
Hina picked herself up off the floor and threw herself into her mother's arms. She was inconsolable.
"Ssssh, beti. It's okay, sssh. Everything will be fine," her mother said soothingly, stroking her daughter's hair and trying to pacify her.
"No it won't be, Ammi," Hina sobbed. "I don't want to marry a stranger. I want to go to school!" Hina began choking on her tears.
"Hina, you know your father. He won't listen to me."
"Please, please Ammi. I want to go to school and I want to complete my degree. I promise? I won't do anything to bring shame to you or this family," Hina begged.
"Maybe after marriage, your shohar will allow you to study," her mother said weakly.
"You know that won't happen," Hina cried. "Do you really want me to live your life?"
"He is your father, Hina. He will always think good things for you. Whatever he does will be always good for your future," her mother assured her, still running her fingers through her hair. Hina rested her tear-streaked face against her mother's chest.
"And what about you, Ammi? What do you think?" Hina asked.
Her mother kept silent for few moments, and then put her index finger under Hina's chin, lifting her face and looking into her daughter's big, brown eyes, which were swimming in tears. "Hina, in our society, a woman does not have the right to think," she replied matter-of-factly, and she got up and left the room.