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

in Houston in partnership with a colleague from Pakistan. But when the deal fell through at the last minute, he had rushed him another telegram asking him not to come, at least not for the time being. Dawber felt terrible that Joseph had ended up coming to America for nothing and he promised to help him find a job. Feeling guilty, Dawber also let him stay at his sprawling house in the suburbs of Houston.

Joseph hung around at Dawber’s house for a week, trying to luxuriate in his stylish splendour, getting used to the comforts that never visited him. But the longer he stayed there, the more uncomfortable he became. Opulence did not suit him.

The American economy had fallen into a deep recession, and that made it difficult for Dawber to help his uninvited guest find a decent job. But Joseph, as it turned out, did not need his help since he found work flipping hamburgers at a Burger King restaurant. And once he learned the nuances of working at a fast-food place, he began searching for an apartment. Luckily, his manager owned a decrepit house, infested as it was with rats, in downtown Houston, just two blocks from his workplace. He rented it out to Joseph. But this dilapidated house—a luxury compared to his one-room mud shack in Pakistan—was all he needed. Determined to drag himself out of this situation, Joseph worked long, hard hours, reminding himself that this would be his temporary abode. When he found out that it took only a few days and little money to get a telephone, he immediately applied for one at the nearest AT&T office. After procuring the phone, the first thing he did was to call Mansoor, whose number he had acquired from Noor. His friend was pleasantly surprised to hear his loud Punjabi voice again. Talking to Mansoor regularly became Joseph’s favourite pastime.

Twenty-One

Mansoor did not attune well to life in Iowa. The frigid winter, the hog reports on the radio and the narrow provinciality of the ordinary Iowans made him miserable. For the first two semesters, he stayed in university housing; after that, he rented a one-bedroom apartment, a short walk from the campus. The university attracted students from all over the world, including Pakistan and India, but Mansoor did not mix with them. An introvert by nature, he made several acquaintances but no friends. The rigours of the semester system made his academic load onerous, and so he made the university library his main hang-out. His goal was to complete his degree in the shortest possible time. Overloading himself with courses, he finished the requirements in a year and a half.

He invited his parents to his graduation ceremony, but only Noor came. Seeing his father come out of the arrivals hall of Chicago’s O’Hare Airport all alone, Mansoor became upset. He had explicitly written to his father and asked him to bring his mother as well, especially since she had never ventured out of Pakistan. Had his father ignored his request or had his mother deliberately chosen not to come? As they exited the airport, Mansoor asked him, ‘Why didn’t you bring Amma?’

‘She doesn’t like to travel,’ he replied.

That was surprising since Mansoor knew that Farhat had always wanted to visit places. Her only trip outside Karachi had been the one she had taken with her sister to the historical city of Lahore, when Zahid lived there as a student. Was Noor embarrassed to bring her with him? Did he think that she would be his excess baggage?

‘How is she doing?’ Mansoor asked.

‘She is fine; she has become very religious since her illness.’

‘What illness?’

The word ‘illness’ had inadvertently slipped out of Noor’s mouth. He had not told Mansoor about Farhat’s hysterectomy, and the news shocked him now. Distressed by his mother’s surgery and angered at being kept in the dark, he raised his voice at his father for the first time in his life.

‘Why did you hide it from me?’

‘I didn’t hide it from you; I just didn’t want to upset your studies.’

His father did not say ‘upset you’ but ‘upset your studies’. His choice of words was inhibiting, the most important word, you, was clearly besides the point. Mansoor felt hurt.

‘I know that you didn’t want to upset me, but I am an adult and I know how to handle worrying news. You should have written to me about Amma’s surgery. She must be thinking how uncaring I am for not even writing to her about it.’ For the first time in his life, Mansoor lectured his father and it felt good.

‘Well, it was her wish as well . . . to not inform you.’ Noor tried to deflect the blame on to his wife.

*

It rained during Mansoor’s graduation ceremony. Noor sat alone, hunched and miserable, in the parents’ gallery. He should have savoured his son’s success, but the Pomp and Circumstance were not for him.

That night, Mansoor wanted to take his father out for a nice steak dinner, but Noor turned him down, using the tedious rain as an excuse. For someone who came from a rain-starved Karachi, a little rain should have been nothing to complain about. But Noor insisted that he did not want to go out in the rain. Just a simple omelette or scrambled eggs was what he wanted. So, they stayed home.

While Mansoor beat the eggs in his kitchen, his father looked at the rain hitting the living room window. In his right hand, he held a glass of whisky. He turned around, lowered his head and timidly apologized to Mansoor for keeping the news of Farhat’s surgery from him. For a while, Noor stayed there in the living room, not knowing what to do. He then moved to the kitchen, lost in his thoughts, and stood watching his son prepare the eggs. He opened his mouth to say something, but then said nothing, as if the moment was not right.

‘Abba, is everything okay?’

Noor shrugged his shoulders in response. Mansoor knew