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

sounded so keen for Zakir to attend his restaurant’s opening that the man had altered his proselytizing travel plan. Joseph’s big wish was to have all those who had supported him in his life cut the ribbon together. When Mansoor heard about it, he protested vehemently and told Joseph that in no way was he going to share the stage with ‘that self-righteous man and his sycophantic groupies’. To make it easy for Joseph, Mansoor decided to withdraw from the ribbon-cutting ceremony. Joseph obviously did not want that because he considered Mansoor the most important, but then he did not want to create a scene either.

*

Joseph threw a party on New Year’s Eve at his apartment, inviting some of his friends and would-be employees. Mansoor and Lisa helped him buy the drinks and all the other party accoutrements that were needed. Considering that he had planned a busy inaugural for his restaurant the next morning, it was risky to have a booze and dance party that would inevitably go on well past midnight. But Joseph was no stranger to risk. Mansoor had seen him getting totally drunk the night before, only to hear him leave for his restaurant around seven in the morning.

With everything in place, Joseph put on Ghulam Farid Sabri’s qawwali on his stereo at full volume.

‘What kind of music is this?’ Lisa asked him.

‘This is Pakistani rock and roll,’ Joseph replied.

‘What? Are you kidding me?’ she asked. Joseph just smiled in response, but Mansoor intervened and tried to explain the nuances of qawwali to her.

‘A qawwali is a sort of Sufi devotional song that used to be sung at the tombs of Muslim saints in India during the Mughal period, but now they have also become very popular in Pakistani–Indian films.’

‘Tonight is a big night for you guys because you get to meet my gori memsahib!’ Joseph interjected, changing the topic.

Lisa looked at Mansoor, a bit puzzled by the unfamiliar word Joseph had inserted.

‘What is her name?’ Mansoor asked.

‘Cheryl Hampton, but I call her my gori memsahib,’ Joseph replied.

‘What does that mean?’ Lisa asked.

‘It means my white lady!’ Joseph winked mischievously at Mansoor, and Lisa smiled.

The guests started coming in by eight in the evening. As the music became louder and the guests more raffish, Mansoor shouted in Joseph’s ear, ‘I hope you didn’t invite Zakir Hassan.’

‘No, I didn’t. But I did invite Sher Khan,’ Joseph shouted back.

‘Are you serious?’

‘Oh, yes. I asked Sher Khan, what’s a young man like you going to do on New Year’s Eve?’

‘And what did he say?’

‘He said he was going to worship God at the mosque. So I told him that if he came to my party, I would introduce him to a few goddesses.’

Mansoor let out a big laugh. He hadn’t laughed like that for a long time.

‘Do you think he is going to come?’ he asked.

Joseph asked Lisa to excuse them for a moment. Then he pulled Mansoor to the side and whispered in Urdu, ‘If he still gets a hard-on, he will come.’

Mansoor laughed again, and Lisa knew Joseph had said something crude. Shaking her head, she went to the dining table and got herself a glass of pink champagne and for Mansoor, a Scotch on the rocks.

With every passing hour, the party only got livelier. It was close to ten by the time Cheryl Hampton, a tall, slender and stunning blonde, entered the apartment. As soon as she sashayed in, Mansoor knew who she was. Very proudly, Joseph introduced her to Lisa and Mansoor and got her some champagne.

‘So, where did you two meet?’ Mansoor asked Cheryl after they had all settled down with their drinks. Both Joseph and Cheryl began laughing.

‘Oh god! It’s a funny story! Joe, you tell him.’

Mansoor had never heard anyone call Joseph ‘Joe’ before. It must be something special. Cheryl’s eyes revealed her feelings for him, but Mansoor did not notice much in Joseph’s eyes, except that they were bloodshot and that they still had that impish twinkle.

‘You see, Cheryl goes to the University of Houston, and I used to be the manager at the Burger King outlet nearby. I had seen her many times on my way to work. She always carried a bunch of really heavy books in her hand. You know . . . psychology books. I knew then that she was getting her degree in psychology. One day, I went to the mall, and there she was, shopping at the department store in a dark red dress. I discreetly made my way over to her, and when she was right next to me, I said to her, “You look like a sherry!” And with my accent and all, she thought I said, “You look like a Cheryl.”’

‘I could’ve sworn he said that,’ Cheryl jumped in. ‘So I asked him how he knew my name. And he said, “I am a fortune teller.” Now, I don’t usually fall for that sort of bullshit, but since I thought he had just told me my name, I sort of ended up thinking that maybe he was a fortune teller. And the next thing he tells me is that I go to the University of Houston and that I am majoring in, how did you say it, Joe?’ She turned to Joseph again.

‘I said you were majoring in pisschialogy because that’s how I used to pronounce ‘psychology’. English pronunciations are stupid,’ Joseph clarified.

Laughing, Cheryl continued with the story. ‘The next thing I knew, he was holding my hand and telling me all sorts of things about myself, and surprisingly, eighty per cent of what he told me was right. Then he introduced himself, and the rest, as they say, is history.’

‘No, actually, the rest is pisschialogy,’ Joseph added, and everyone laughed.

The party was in full swing by now, with people laughing and drinking and dancing. Not everyone, however, was happy with Joseph’s selection of music. Mansoor went to check if he had some dance music, but one look at his music collection