Of Smokeless Fire A.A. Jafri (books to read to improve english TXT) 📖

‘He is a liar, and he is lazy. Tell him to find a job and move out of here by the end of this month.’

When Jumman announced this new deadline to Joseph, he became angry with Farhat and cursed her under his breath. He decided that if he did not get the letter soon, he would move to Lahore and try to find a job there, may be in the movies. But the long-awaited letter finally arrived, just five days before Farhat’s deadline. Joseph was ecstatic. Dawber apologized for not writing sooner. He was waiting for everything to get confirmed before sending him the letter.

Along with the personal note, Dawber sent an official letter of employment not from the oil company, but from himself. It appeared that he had recently opened a Pakistani-Indian restaurant and he wanted to hire Joseph as his head chef for an annual salary of $10,000. This was news to Joseph, but then who was he to argue when so much money was at stake? Dawber had often suggested that he should open a Pakistani restaurant in Iran, but he had never hinted at his plans to open one himself, and that too in Houston, Texas. It did not matter to Joseph what the job was as long as he could go to America. After watching countless Hollywood flicks, America had become his latest fixation.

With the letter in his hand and a Rajesh Khanna song on his lips, he set off to the American consulate, where he was told that there was no possibility of an interview for at least another month. Disappointed, he went to see Noor, but Noor had no contacts at the consulate. He, however, directed Joseph to Zakir. While all of this was going on, Joseph got a telegram from Dawber, asking him to hold off on everything and not come to America till he sent another telegram. Joseph tore the telegram up and went to see Zakir anyway. He showed him Dawber’s letter. At first, Zakir was reluctant to help him, not because of Joseph’s lineage but because the authenticity of that piece of correspondence looked suspicious to him. But Joseph convinced him, and among many other canards, told him that he had converted to Islam, while in Iran.

‘By the grace of Allah, I am a Muslim now and no longer a bhangi.’

‘I don’t believe you. Recite the kalimah for me.’

To pass off as a Muslim in Iran, Joseph had, in fact, memorized the kalimah, the two-line profession of faith. So without any hesitation, he recited it in his accented Punjabi.

‘Praise to Allah. This is a momentous change, Joseph!’

Thoroughly impressed, Zakir promised to help him, but on one condition. ‘My bhangi has run away and I want you to find me a reliable bhangi.’

‘Sahib, I will send you a white bhangi from Umreeka; he will be more reliable than any kaloo bhangi, Sahib.’

‘No, I want a kaloo bhangi, okay?’

Joseph nodded his head, happy that his odds of going to America had just multiplied. The next day, Zakir contacted his friends at the American embassy and arranged the interview for Joseph.

*

With his quick wit and flattery, Joseph regaled the interviewer and obtained the most sought-after visa. Now there was only one glitch: he was short of money. Having squandered most of his money on movies and brothels, and after paying rent to Jumman, Joseph had nothing left for the trip. He needed ten thousand rupees for the airfare alone. His only hope for a bailout was Noor. So, he called the barrister’s secretary at his office and arranged a meeting. This would be his most important meeting with him. He spent the whole day enacting the scene, rehearsing the dialogues and anticipating the questions, for this was his chance to kill two birds with one stone: to give the performance of his life and to obtain the money. The next day, after eating a hearty breakfast, he went to see Noor at his office. The minute Joseph was summoned into the office, he began his act. But Noor interrupted him immediately.

‘Don’t start your acting. Just get to the point, Joseph,’ he frowned impatiently.

‘Sahib, I need ten thousand rupees. Please give it to me as a loan, Sahib. I will return it to you very soon. I have eaten your salt, Sahib; I have lived under your roof. Please don’t disappoint me, Sahib.’

Noor pressed the button on his intercom and spoke into the machine in his clipped English, ‘Mr Siddique, please come to my office at once.’

Convinced that he was about to be thrown out of the office, Joseph pleaded for mercy, ‘Sahib, if you can’t give me the money, I can try my luck somewhere else, but don’t throw me out!’ He began to walk back towards the door to leave the barrister’s office.

‘Stop, you donkey! Where do you think you are going?’ Noor thundered.

Before Joseph could reply, the office door opened and a bespectacled man entered the room.

‘Siddique Sahib, go to the bank with Joseph and give him twelve thousand rupees,’ Noor told the man brusquely.

Joseph was dumbstruck. He was so moved by the barrister’s generosity that he started to blubber and rushed to touch his feet, but Noor stopped him and said, ‘Don’t create a spectacle . . . just get the money and go.’

*

When he reached Houston, Joseph obviously did not expect Dawber to be at the airport, but he telephoned him nonetheless, feigning surprise at not finding him at the airport. Dawber, too, was surprised to hear Joseph calling him from the airport; he had assumed that Joseph had received his telegram.

‘Didn’t you get my telegram?’ he asked.

‘What telegram, Sahib?’

‘Well, I had sent you a . . . never mind, just wait at the airport. I’ll come and pick you up.’

It took Dawber forty-five minutes to reach the airport. On their way back to his house, he told Joseph that he had been planning to start a Pakistani-Indian restaurant