Their Language of Love by Bapsi Sidhwa Read Free Book Online

humour that had so touched Zareen in the abandoned mining town when he had gleefully thumbed his nose at Feroza. At such moments, Zareen wished David was Parsee—or that the Zoroastrians permitted conversion to their faith.
    Although Shirley and Laura occasionally roamed the house in shorts, David, warned by Feroza, kept his hairy legs modestly concealed. Nosing his way timidly on the surface of another culture, David was entirely guided by Feroza. There were other strictures they prudently continued to observe: neither smoked before Zareen (fire is revered by Zoroastrians), and both were careful not to give the slightest intimation of their more advanced physical intimacies.
    And then in the third week of her visit, within three days of each other, arrived a spate of anxious letters from Pakistan recalling Zareen to her mission.
    Zareen’s sleep became restless. As if prodded by an ominous finger, she sat bolt upright in bed one night, her pulse pounding. She looked at the watch on the side table: it was three o’clock. She felt something was terribly amiss; and with a shock realized Feroza was not in her cot. For the first time Zareen suspected that her daughter probably slept with David. Tying her scarf round her head she began to pray.
    Zareen knew what she must do. However useful and appealing David was, however natural to the stimulating and carefree environment, he would deprive her daughterof her faith and her natural element. Like a fish in shallow waters her child would eventually shrivel up.
    The next day Feroza and David at once sensed the change in Zareen’s mood. They were surprised how fragile their happiness was, how vulnerable they were. Linking Zareen’s shift in temper to the bundle of letters that had arrived all together from Pakistan, Feroza wished the mail had been lost. Zareen’s face grew more and more solemn as the morning advanced and a little frown appeared between her eyes. Feroza, after a few attempts to rally her mother had failed, became equally solemn. David’s misgivings launched their customary attack. Racked by self-loathing and his usual gloomy doubts, he skulked about the garage and the backyard, trying to keep out of everybody’s way. There were muffled sounds of an altercation from Laura and Shirley’s room. Zareen’s ill humour had contaminated the house.
    Zareen waited for David to appear in the kitchen. Feeling he was deliberately avoiding her, she strode to the garage door and after ascertaining he was in his room, said, ‘David, can you come into the kitchen please? I want to talk to you.’
    David’s spirits sank lower as he caught that elusive inflection that had so disconcerted him on the day of her arrival. Pulling his legs through his long pants David hurried into the kitchen and sat down before Zareen. She gave him a quick cool smile and dispensing with courtesies said: ‘I am most concerned about Feroza. Do you intend to marry her, or are you just having fun?’
    David felt the blood rush to his head and cloud his vision. At the same time, his hands meekly lying in his lap, turnednumb and cold. ‘Of course,’ he stammered, ‘we want to get married.’
    ‘Please speak for yourself,’ Zareen said. ‘And let my daughter speak for herself.’
    David was too stunned to say anything. He looked at Zareen with an expression of surprise and misery.
    ‘Have you thought about the sacrifice you are demanding of my daughter?’
    ‘I’m not demanding anything … Feroza does as she pleases—pretty much …’ Then, the slightest edge to his voice, he added: ‘She’s an adult.’
    ‘An adult? I don’t think so,’ Zareen said. ‘You are both too immature and selfish to qualify as adults … She doesn’t care how much she hurts all of us. I’ll tell you something,’ Zareen’s voice became oracular with foreboding. ‘I look into Feroza’s future and what do I see? Misery!’
    David could not credit his faculties. The transition was too sudden. He could not