 
### The Expats

Ivy D'Souza

All rights reserved.

This is an IndieMosh book  
published at Smashwords by MoshPit Publishing  
an imprint of Mosher's Business Support Pty Ltd  
http://www.indiemosh.com.au

This book is a work of fiction and the characters do not represent any person living or dead.

© Ivy D'Souza 2012

Smashwords Edition, Licence Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the original place of purchase and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

### Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgements

About the Author

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

# Dedication

In loving memory of my beloved nephew, Aaron Patrick Rose, whose zest for life and living, friendship and mateship, inspired me in so many ways. We wish he could have shared this day with us.

#  Acknowledgements

The City of Monash, Mairi Neil (Editorial), Stuart Reedy (writers workshop facilitator), Margaret Storey (artwork and publishing support), Daniel Watson (formatting), Kerryn Tredrea (reading support), Holmesglen TAFE teaching staff, The Clayton-Clarinda Writing Group, and my dear friends and family. Without you this book would not have been completed.

# About the Author

Ivy D'Souza is a member of the Clayton Clarinda Writers Circle and The Caulfield Writers Group. Her short stories have appeared in Lizard Skin Press Short Story Anthology 1, The Community Press Magazine, and Caulfield Writers 25 years. Ivy has received a grant from The City of Monash to write this book, her first novel.

# CHAPTER 1

**10 December 1981**

The afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Neelum stood on the small balcony of her flat in Gudaibiya and surveyed the neighbourhood. The balcony faced the back lane, and she could seethe back entrance of the bank, the tailor's shop and the white goods store. Across the road the cobbler's shop, where she took her sandals to be mended, had closed for the day but the adjacent tandoor bakery still filled the air with the tantalizing smell of fresh khobz, the flat bread she sometimes picked up for dinner.

Neelum started hanging out the washing on the small balcony. She lifted her pale pink shalwar kameez with the paisley design from the washing basket at her feet. The tailor downstairs had made this for her. She pegged her favourite outfit beside her mother-in-law Kamala's plain shapeless garments and smiled. Kamala didn't believe in wearing fashionable clothes - for her clothes only performed a functional purpose.

Soon some of the local Bahraini girls who worked at the bank would finish work and go to their cars parked in the back lane. How carefree they seemed. Neelum often watched them walking to their cars, handbags swinging as they linked arms and chatted. She envied their ability to earn a wage and to be working with people their own age. They didn't have to put up with a domineering woman and spend the day doing thankless domestic tasks.

'Neelum, where are you?' Kamala interrupted the daydream. 'We need to start grinding the spices and chopping the vegetables and onions for dinner, and there's no rice. You should have checked. Now you'll have to go to the cold store before it closes.'

Neelum hurried to the kitchen. 'I'm sick of your droning voice,' she muttered under her breath. She thought of the job for a checkout operator in a supermarket she'd seen in the newspapers. 'No experience required'. She could get around her husband, Vikram, who worked for the Bahrain Petroleum Company as an accountant. She could get around her placid father-in-law, Ajit, but convincing Kamala would require hard work.

She chopped vegetables and thought of her first love, Aamir, imagined his handsome face and the lock of glossy hair that fell over his forehead so endearingly. Their families had been neighbours in Dubai, but like Romeo and Juliet, Muslim Aamir and Hindu Neelum could never mix. She sighed. The horrors of Partition when the British left India remained fresh in people's minds. Muslims and Hindus butchered each other and, according to the elders, rivers of blood flowed. Any friendship between Aamir and Neelum was unthinkable, and when Neelum reached eighteen, her parents wasted no time in arranging a marriage to Vikram in Bahrain, severing contact with Aamir forever. Tears welled as the familiar longing for her lost love threatened to overwhelm.

Unaware of her daughter-in-law's sadness Kamala untied a knot at the end of her sari and carefully counted out some money. 'Take this and buy the basmati rice and red lentils,' she said. 'Also some condensed milk and tea. And see if that Indian mackerel fish is available.' Without allowing Neelum time to clear away the vegetables Kamala pressed the money into her hand. 'And don't loiter, comeback quick-quick. It's late already.'

Neelum swallowed hard. She felt like back-answering her mother-in-law, but knew it would only make life worse. Kamala carried tales to Vikram, and being an only son, he believed his mother rather than his wife. If I get a job, we can find a flat of our own, she thought. Her mother-in-law would resort to tears and drama, beg Vikram not to desert his parents in their old age but good sense would prevail, Neelum reasoned. They would find a flat close by.

Neelum left for the cold store. She could have passed for a Bahraini girl with her long dark plait trailing down to her waist but her distinctive shalwar kameez gave her away. She was fair complexioned and had large brown kohl rimmed eyes. Her tall slender frame attracted stares and sniggers from the Bahraini youths who loitered in doorways and passed their time smoking cigarettes or sometimes dope. Although their country proclaimed wealth because of oil production, many Bahraini young men and women were unemployed. They resented that foreign companies preferred more qualified expatriate workers - even though these were often dismissed on a whim.

Neelum stared at the ground when she passed the youths, who were singing snatches of a Hindi film song for her benefit. She entered the cold store run by a South Indian boy from Kerala and felt safer. After making her purchases, she remembered the ten-dinar note in her purse from Vikram. Kamala would be annoyed if she knew Neelum's husband sometimes gave her money to buy anything she fancied. Should I go to the beauty salon and get a pedicure? Neelum wondered. It will only take half an hour and cost two dinars...Neelum imagined Kamala's disapproval, the lecture she would give about only spending money on absolute necessities.

Filipina girls ran the beauty salons in town. They specialised in hairdressing, waxing, manicures, pedicures and facials. Neelum considered getting a facial but knew it would take too long and Kamala would rant and rave when she returned. A pedicure it will have to be.

Cora the beautician placed Neelum's feet in the warm water of the foot spa and she immediately relaxed. A foot massage and painting of toe nails followed. Neelum glanced at her watch, 'Goodness, I better go.' She pressed the dinars into Cora's hand and hurried out of the salon.

Youths still loitered in the street and sniggered as Neelum passed. She avoided walking too close and one of them leered, 'Oh! She's shy!'

Kamala accosted Neelum as soon as she walked through the door. 'Where have you been? Roaming everywhere and I am waiting here for the rice!'

'They had no rice and the boy had to go to the other shop at the end of the road to get some,' Neelum lied. 'And the mackerel did not arrive today. Maybe tomorrow.'

With eyes cold and hard like flat stones Kamala stared at Neelum. 'If there is no rice we'll have chapattis. Knead the flour and I'll make the curry.' Kamala looked down and spied the bright pink toenails protruding from Neelum's sandals.

'You've had a pedicure! You didn't get all the groceries but wasted precious time and money to pamper your feet.' Kamala's face flushed with anger, 'What a disobedient daughter-in-law you are! What a liar! Now just for that, you can prepare dinner on your own. After kneading the flour grind the spices and make the curry. And you better hurry up."

Under Kamala's baleful gaze, Neelum pounded whole spices in the mortar and pestle, wishing it was her mother-in-law being crushed. Most people had electrical appliances but Kamala insisted on the traditional way. Kamala always decided the menu and tonight's meal of lentil and potato curry, with vegetables sautéed in spices, had to be served with papadums. Neelum remembered arriving as a new bride. She burnt the chappatis and made watery curries. Kamala had said, 'How come your mother hasn't taught you to cook? What use is English and history to a good wife. You have to learn to sew and cook.'

Neelum banged the lid onto the saucepan. She hated her life! Why was fate so cruel?

# CHAPTER 2

Neelum mopped the floor and dusted the furniture. The dry and dusty desert climate made this housework a necessity, especially living with her mother-in-law's pristine standards. She peeped into the bedroom and breathed a sigh of relief. Kamala snored softly enjoying her afternoon nap. Neelum quickly put away the mop and dusting cloth and left the flat like a thief, easing the door shut without a sound. She rang the doorbell of the flat opposite on the same landing and glanced at her watch. Shirley, who worked in a bank, came home just after 3.00pm and should be at home. To Neelum's relief, Shirley opened the door.

'Hi, Neelum, I haven't seen you for ages, how are you?'

'I wish I could see you more often but you're always at work,' said Neelum, inclining her head. 'Are you going to invite me in?'

'Of course! Where are my manners? Come in. My parents have gone to the Indian club to play cards and I'm in the process of cooking dinner.' Shirley wiped her hands before untying her apron and putting it over the back of a kitchen chair.

'I won't hold you up Shirley,' said Neelum. 'I'll have to start preparing our dinner soon but I wondered if I could borrow the Filmfare magazines, and also ask you for a favour.'

'Anything for you, if it's possible. Ask away.'

Neelum hesitated. She had thought about the favour for a long time but now felt unsure how Shirley would view her request. Taking a deep breath and plunging straight in, she said, 'I want to make a phone call to Dubai. Not to my parents, or anything like that, just to a friend. It's a private call I don't want Kamala to know about. When the bill comes, I'll pay for the call.'

Shirley did not respond and as the silence grew Neelum said, 'My mother-in-law is difficult to please and...'

Shirley voiced her suspicions. 'Is it a boyfriend you want to talk to?'

Neelum looked at her imploringly. 'Please, I have to talk to him. I can't use my own phone because Kamala will kill me. Please Shirley, do this one favour!' Neelum's eyes brimmed with tears.

Shirley folded her arms as if defending herself from Neelum's evil influence, and looked grim. 'Who is this person you are so desperate to talk to? A person you seem prepared to throw away a good life for? Is it that boyfriend you had in Dubai?' Shirley peered into Neelum's face, willing her to confess. 'Look, I don't think you should involve me in this. It could get very messy, even for me. You are a married woman. Your family will think I am encouraging you to be disobedient.'

In desperation, Neelum confessed, hoping to enlist Shirley's help. 'I told you about Aamir, the Muslim boy I was friends with, and that my parents married me off to prevent us seeing each other. And it's so hard, I'm so unhappy. You would not like having an arranged marriage if you were in love with someone else.' Neelum choked back a sob, 'Vikram is not bad to me but I hate his mother and she hates me! Neelum searched for a handkerchief and shuddered. 'Kamala is domineering and controlling. Please Shirley, I know you are Christian but your customs are not as strict as ours are and I am so fed up with my life; I wonder if it is worth living.'

Shirley hesitated. Her eyebrows furrowed and lips drew tight. 'Well,' Neelum held her breath, 'since my parents are not at home, I guess I could let you make the call. But just this once and don't talk for too long, otherwise your mother-in-law will come looking for you and,' Shirley smiled wryly, 'even I'm scared of her and I don't have to live with her!'

Shirley led Neelum to the phone in her bedroom, and closed the door behind her. After twenty minutes, she tapped on the door. 'Neelum, finish now, it's too risky for both of us.'

A minute later Neelum came out with a smile on her face. She gushed, 'Thank goodness Aamir was home and picked up the phone himself. He was so happy to talk to me and is sorry I'm miserable. He thinks I should find a job to get away from the mother-in-law. He said that was the best thing to do and he'd keep in touch, no matter what.' Neelum clasped her hands to her heart and twirled.

Shirley did not like the transformation and regretted giving in to Neelum's pleading. 'I don't think this is a very good idea,' Shirley warned. 'You are a married woman, you took vows. What future could you have with a Muslim boy? Your family will have nothing to do with you if you follow this path and his family won't want you.'

Neelum leant against the wall as Shirley sucked the happiness from her.

'Aamir's family will have someone in mind for him, like a cousin. You know they like to marry within the family. And don't think you will be happy if you leave your husband. Can you bear the isolation and shame of being ostracized by the Hindu community?' Shirley put her hands on either side of Neelum's shoulders as if ready to shake sense into a recalcitrant child. 'Think carefully of the consequences, Neelum. This is a dangerous path.'

'Shirley, I know I'm married and Vikram is not a bad husband but I can't confide my unhappiness to him because the biggest problem is his mother! Aamir has been my friend for a long time, he understands me. What's the harm in phoning him now and then?'She held a hand over her eyes to stem the threatening tears and in a tremulous voice said, 'I didn't even get the chance to say goodbye yet he was a part of my life for four years.'

Shirley stepped away from Neelum and shrugged. An uneasy silence enveloped both girls before Shirley left the room abruptly and returned with some Indian magazines. 'Here are the Filmfare magazines. I hope you know what you are doing but please don't involve me.'

Neelum understood her friend's dilemma and nodded. Shirley said, 'You can keep the magazines for as long as you want. I've read them. Now you'd better get home, I'm sure the dragon is awake.' Neelum smiled and squeezed Shirley's arm in thanks as her neighbour gently steered her towards the front door.

When Neelum opened the door she could hear Kamala clattering cutlery on the table for dinner. Vikram had arrived home from work and had his head buried in the Gulf Daily News. Neelum's father-in-law sat in his favourite armchair as Dallas blared from the television set.

'Dinner's ready,' announced Kamala to the men but to Neelum she hissed, 'no thanks to you. What took you so long at Shirley's house?' Neelum ignored her mother-in-law's anger and hurried to Vikram to show him the magazines.

Kamala's eyes narrowed and a look of pure hatred followed her daughter-in-law across the room. She tried to reassert her authority, 'Neelum bring the rotis to the table before they get cold.'

Neelum collected the rotis and with a polite smile that didn't reach her eyes, said, 'Here Mother.'

Kamala refused to let Neelum off the hook,' You were a long time at Shirley's just to borrow magazines.'

'I didn't realize the time. She has such an interesting job and was telling me about the bank where she works.' Neelum turned to make sure Vikram was listening. 'And she gets a fantastic salary. In fact, she's thinking of buying a two bedroom flat in Bombay that will cost at least ten lakh rupees.'

Kamala looked hard at Neelum. 'I don't want you mixing too much with this Shirley. Those Catholic girls from Bombay have lax morals. Keep away from her. She'll be putting wrong ideas into your head.' The older woman shook her head in disapproval and wagged her finger at the magazines discarded by Vikram's chair, 'And I don't like you reading those magazines from Bombay. There's nothing in there for decent Hindu girls.'

# CHAPTER 3

**14 December 1981**

Neelum examined her wardrobe. What should she wear for the interview at the Shaheen Supermarket? She had escaped from Kamala's clutches, made a phone call to answer the job advertisement and arranged to be interviewed at 10.30 am, a most suitable time because Kamala would be at the temple praying. She would not beat home questioning why Neelum was dressing in her best clothes. If Kamala knew Neelum's intentions she'd prevent her from attending the interview.

Neelum took out the rose chiffon sari with the heavily worked border, held it against her slim body and surveyed herself in the wardrobe mirror. Too grand for an interview in a supermarket and saris are not practical. I would probably trip and the whole sari would unravel, she thought. What a terrible thing to happen to a young woman in public.

She put it back and tried the pale blue shalwar kameez with white and silver embroidery and matching dupatta. I'm not likely to trip over this!

She added finishing touches to her make-up and lined her luminous brown eyes with kohl. Copper glinted in her long dark hair as she twisted a French knot. The hairstyle made her look older. 'Please select me,' she whispered to the mirror as if it was magic like the one in the fairy tale about Snow White. 'I don't want to spend the rest of my life being a servant to my wicked mother-in-law, Kamala.'

Neelum descended the stairs of the building, crossed the busy road and turned left at the Royal Hotel. The supermarket was a short walk away. There were four other applicants, all dressed in western clothes. A Filipino, and three Indians - they looked confident.

They will all have work experience, Neelum thought. As she was ushered into a small interview room, her palms broke into a sweat.

Neelum stared at Fuad Aziz, the manager sitting behind a large desk. Short and squat, he sported a traditional moustache. His trimmed hair plastered into neatness with Brylcreem above a grey suit and maroon tie. Neelum's application sat on the desk and his small shrewd eyes appraised the young woman as she entered the room and sat down. Shy and very young, wearing too much unnecessary make up but a pretty girl...

Neelum's carefully knotted hair fell loose about her shoulders, sliding down to her waist as if it had a life of its own. Fuad stared at the hair, fascinated. Neelum looked down at the floor, embarrassed, wishing for an escape tunnel. She didn't notice Fuad's disconcerted shuffling as he quickly composed himself. He picked up his pen and wrote on her application form 'good deportment and manner, convent educated and well-suited to job.'

'I see that you were born in Dubai, but have settled in Bahrain,' he said, perusing her application.

'Yes. I came here last year when I got married. My husband has lived here for several years.'

Nineteen years old, and already married. Too young, thought Fuad as her hair and trusting innocence distracted him. He tried to sound businesslike. 'Where does your husband work? Are you on his resident visa?'

'My husband works as an accountant for the Bahrain Petroleum company and I am on his resident visa. I only need a work permit from your company.'

'We arrange work permits. When can you start work?'

Neelum tried to hide her delight at Mr Fuad's tone. 'Immediately,' she murmured.

'Let's see, today is Thursday. We will expect you here on Saturday. Have you any questions?'

Neelum realised she knew so little about the position. 'What is the salary, and what are the working hours? And how long is the training period?'

'You will be paid two hundred and fifty dinars per month, the standard wage for a check-out operator. If your performance is satisfactory, you will get an increment after three months probation.' The manager smiled at Neelum, relaxing his tone, 'And there is the prospect of promotion if you prove your worth. You start at 8.30 and finish at 5.30 pm six days a week, except for Fridays. Are the conditions acceptable to you?'

'Oh yes, Sir.' Neelum sounded calmer than she felt, 'I will be here on Saturday morning.'

Once Neelum left the premises behind, she skipped down the street. I must tell Vikram of our good fortune, she thought. With two salaries coming in, we can move to our own flat. It will still have to be close to his parents but free from Kamala's daily vitriol. Calculations flashed through Neelum's mind. The rents are exorbitant in Gudaibiya even though only a working-class area. But we don't have to pay income tax. We can save and buy a house in India and rent it out while we live here, or better still migrate to Australia one day and buy a house there. Neelum walked with a light step. She could be queen in her own flat, no longer dominated by Kamala. Vikram was easy to manipulate if his mother was not around.

On the way home, Neelum lingered, window-shopping and remembering Dubai. She was 16 years old and coming home from the Sacred Heart convent school. Aamir waited for her at the bus stop because he attended St. Patrick's school across the road. She could see him waving to her as the bus drew closer.

'Guess what, Aamir, I'm going to see the movie 'Bobby' with my girlfriends on Friday. You know, the one about the Goan boy who falls in love with a Hindu girl, and her parents are dead against it.'

'Just like us, hey?' said Aamir. 'You're Hindu and I'm Muslim, and your parents don't like me.'

'Don't be silly. Of course they like you. We're neighbours.'

Aamir tweaked her long plait playfully. 'We can pretend we are boyfriend girlfriend, but in real life they will not allow it. They think badly of Muslims.'

'But I don't.'

'I know,' Aamir said. 'Now about this movie 'Bobby', you can tell your friends that I will be there and I want to sit next to you in the movie house.'

'Oh, how wonderful. My friends love to play cupid.'

The bus arrived and Neelum and Aamir clambered aboard...

Neelum's daydreams evaporated as she approached the flat because Kamala walked down the street towards her. She carried Prasad, the sweetmeats from the temple. These offerings to the gods were taken home by the faithful to be consumed.

Neelum shivered as Kamala drew nearer looking grim and set for battle. She accosted Neelum at the foot of the stairs. 'Why are you all dressed up? Where have you been?'

Throwing caution aside, Neelum smirked and said, 'I've managed to get a job.' She re-arranged her dupatta which had slipped off her neck.

'What job?' asked Kamala in disbelief.

'At the Shaheen supermarket, the one I told Vikram about.'

'Vikram didn't mention it to me. What is the salary?'

'Two hundred and fifty dinars a month. I know it is not that good, but I don't have any experience,' Neelum said, but quickly added, 'after probation I will get a rise.'

Ever conscious of public opinion Kamala did not make a scene but as she followed Neelum up the stairs, she moaned. 'I am so tired these days. Have you thought who will help me prepare the meals, do the grocery shopping, and clean the house if you are working elsewhere?'

'Don't worry, Mother,' said Neelum trying to sound sincere, 'I will be home by 5.45 and will help prepare dinner and I have the day off on Fridays so will clean the whole house then. I'll be able to buy groceries from the supermarket where I work and even get a discount.' The last comment received a favourable 'hmph' but Kamala's body language left Neelum in no doubt that her mother-in-law saw through her deception and was not happy.

In the evening Neelum waited for the sound of Vikram's footsteps at the door. Before he had time to say hello she said, 'I've got a job at the Shaheen supermarket.'

Vikram looked at her in surprise, admiration shining from his dark brown eyes. 'Really, Neelum? That's wonderful news. I never knew you had it in you to find a job. You have no experience and it will be hard work.'

Kamala interrupted, 'What's hard about sitting at a check-out all day – it's the easiest job in the supermarket.'

The young couple ignored Kamala's sour intrusion and Neelum pulled Vikram into their bedroom where they could talk in private. Vikram didn't hide his pleasure, 'It's so wonderful you can bring another income into the house. Money is what makes a good life. That's why we are here in the Gulf, to make as much money as we can.' He danced Neelum around the room, 'This is the best news I have heard in a long time.'

After dinner, while doing the dishes, Neelum could not help smiling and humming even though Kamala had pleaded a headache and retired early to sulk and leave all the cleaning up to her daughter-in-law.

# CHAPTER 4

**15 January 1982**

When Neelum started work, it was the middle of winter in Bahrain. Her cotton shalwar-kameez and Pashmina shawl offered little protection against the cold. She decided to wear a cardigan or jacketlike the working girls at the bank downstairs, and closed shoes instead of sandals. She bought a proper handbag too instead of the clutch purse she always carried. Each new purchase earned a lecture from Kamala.

Fuad introduced Neelum to the check-out girls, Sadia, Shanti and Aarti and took her for a tour of the premises. When she took her place at the check-out, Sadia, the designated instructor for the day, taught Neelum the work.

'You have to be real fast as a check-out operator,' said Sadia. 'But make sure you get the correct money and give out the correct change. The accounts must balance at the end of the day.'

'If not, what happens?'

'It will be docked from your salary. If a small amount is missing now and then, Mr Fuad doesn't worry. But more than five dinars and you will be asked to leave.'

That first day it seemed everyone came to Neelum's check-out, and she was grateful for the half hour lunch break. The girls had brought tiffins with them containing chappatis, or rice and curry. They sat around a table that filled the small kitchen at the back of the supermarket.

Sadia introduced Neelum to the other girls. Geeta did the accounts and Maria was Fuad's secretary. There were three boys, Shashi, Deepak and Chandra, who stacked shelves and ran errands.

Some of the customers liked to chat with Neelum while she scanned their items. A Bahraini housewife said, 'I want some ice creams for my children, but they only like pistachio. You don't have those in your ice cream section.'

'I'll inform management about your choice and try and stock pistachio ice cream soon,' said Neelum, surprising herself at her ready response.

A sophisticated young Indian woman spoke with disdain, 'I only come here in an emergency because it's local. I prefer to get my groceries from Idris Cold Store in town because they have every item under the sun. The choice is so limited here.'

'Oh, Madam, we are expanding our range shortly. You will find similar items here soon, and we are more convenient than Idris.'

Neelum managed to get a smile from the young lady. 'Sounds good. But don't take forever about it,' she said.

5.30 pm arrived before Neelum knew it, and her till balanced. The first day was a success.

'Grab some groceries,' said Aarti, who was working at the checkout closest to her, 'you get the ones which have just passed their use-by dates free.' Grabbing her handbag, Neelum picked up milk, bread, bananas, yoghurt and margarine. Next time I'll make a list, she thought.

She had the plastic bags of groceries in her hands and was ready to leave the supermarket when she heard her name.

'Neelum, one moment,' said a voice behind her. Neelum paused and looked over her shoulder. She found herself looking at Fuad, briefcase and car keys in hand.

'How was it today?' Fuad said, with a wide smile.

'Good,' Neelum tried to be enthusiastic, 'I think I am really going to like working here. Much better than being at home.'

'If you have any problems, just let me know. I like my workers to be happy.'

'Thanks.'

Fuad held Neelum with an intense stare and said, 'Do you want a lift home?'

'No thank you. I live just ten minutes walk away.'

Fuad hid his disappointment, 'Good night then. See you tomorrow

morning. Be on time.'

Clutching her groceries, Neelum hurried home. The lights in the neighbourhood came on one by one in the gathering dusk. She walked faster, head bowed against the cold shamal wind. At last she reached the street where she lived.

# CHAPTER 5

**28 February 1982**

'I can't believe I've been working for more than a month,' said Neelum as she sat beside Vikram watching television. They had the flat to themselves because Vikram's parents had gone to visit friends at the temple to pray and offer prasad to the gods. Neelum liked Friday evenings and the weekly holiday now. 'It's so nice to have the house to ourselves,' she whispered and helped herself to some cashew nuts from the coffee table. She sipped from her mug of hot coffee, savouring the taste. More expensive than tea, coffee was reserved for Fridays.

'So what's been happening at work?' said Vikram, 'Anything interesting?'

'You'll never believe what happened today.'

'What?'

'I saw one of those tall Pathans, you know the type that work son the construction sites as a labourer? He put razor blades and aftershave in a bag. He picked up onions and a kilo of flour and only paid for those when he came to my check-out.'

Vikram frowned. 'Did you report him?'

'I didn't have the heart to. He probably sends every dinar to support his family in Pakistan and could never afford to buy those goods on his wage. But I warned him someone else might report him so he shouldn't steal again.'

Vikram scowled. 'You took a big risk. What if someone finds out what you did. I know the Pathans work hard in over forty degree heat and their rooms are overcrowded but that doesn't mean they can steal.'

'Oh Vikram, they have no rights and are treated like animals. So many sharing small rooms with no air-conditioning, can you imagine that?'

'That's true and I feel sorry for them but don't ever not report stealing again! If they are badly treated, it is none of your business.'

'But...'

Vikram's face darkened and Neelum jumped with fright when he shouted, 'You could lose your job. Your loyalty is to Mr Fuad –you do want an increase when you finish probation don't you? We must earn as much as we can and save while we are here. Money is power in this world. It opens doors. You don't get anywhere in this life without it.'

Neelum remained silent and felt defeated. She thought Vikram would be happy for her to help a poor Pathan. His angry reaction frightened her. Changing the subject, she said, 'I made friends with some of the girls who work with me. They told me I can get so many groceries free on the day they pass their expiry dates as well as my fifteen percent discount.'

Vikram smiled and murmured, 'Good,' his angry mood gone.

Neelum continued to chatter, 'The Hindu staff ask for vegetables when they wilt and can't be sold but the Muslim staff prefer the lamb and beef. The meat comes from England and Australia in frozen packages and they don't spoil even when they reach their expiry dates.'

'You must get as many groceries as possible from your work,' said Vikram. 'Anything you get free or at a discount is welcome.'

'Yes, I wish your mother would appreciate the benefits I bring with this job. In Central Market we pay such a lot for vegetables and fruit and the cold store around the corner must make a hefty profit with their high prices.'

Vikram ignored the jibe about Kamala and said, 'That's what I really miss about India. The fields of the Punjab waving with golden wheat, the plots of fresh vegetables, and orchards of delicious fruit. We sold our family farm to get a visa to come here but will go back one day and live in the town in a great big mansion with a gardener to grow vegetables and fruit. And', he added with a flourish, 'we will have a nice flower garden with everything organically grown.'

'I wouldn't like to go back to India,' said Neelum. She quickly added, 'We could go there for a holiday of course, but I was born in Dubai and couldn't live in India. I am too used to the Gulf.'

'But we can't stay here forever,' said Vikram. 'This is not our country. We are Indian citizens. It is very hard to get citizenship even if you were born here.'

Neelum said meekly, 'We could settle in a foreign country like Australia. I've read in the papers that they need accountants and secretaries. Your cousin Kiran is there. He could help us.'

Vikram rubbed his chin with his free hand. 'But what about my parents? We can't just leave them behind.' He finished his coffee and looked at Neelum with questioning eyes.

Neelum spoke too quickly, 'No, we couldn't do that. They can go stay with your sister Asha in Kuwait.' She held her breath worried she had gone too far.

'You have it all worked out,' said Vikram, but he picked up the remote and went back to watching the Indian movie, saying, 'We'll see. Let's think about that if the time comes.'

I must put the idea of shifting to our own flat to Vikram soon, thought Neelum. Perhaps when we get paid on the first of next month.

'Let's have dinner now,' she said. 'I got some mangoes today which we can have afterwards. Alfonso mangoes from India, I knew you would like them. The staff got to buy them cheap because they'd spoil over the weekend.'

The wan light of dawn woke Neelum the next day and she went to the alcove set aside for prayer. Lighting candles before the image of Laxmi, the goddess of wealth and prosperity, she thanked the goddess for her job, and for being able to earn a wage that brought her status in Vikram's eyes. May I have the courage to broach the subject of shifting into our own flat, she prayed. She bowed her head for the Laxmi's blessings. O great one, I will go to the temple and make an offering of money and prasad in your honour. Please set me free from Kamala forever.

In the kitchen, Neelum prepared breakfast for the family. It was almost seven o'clock before the family sat at the table. She piled her husband's plate with flaky parathas and fried eggs, and poured mugs of sweet milky tea for everyone.

Neelum and Vikram set off for work together while Kamala sat and complained to her husband about the pitfalls of modern life in a foreign country. 'It is wrong these young women want to work and think they are equal to men.'

# CHAPTER 6

**1 May 1982**

Neelum arrived for work on pay day, a spring in her step as she thought of what she could do with her money, but her optimism turned to disquiet when Aarti said, 'You're wanted in the manager's office.'

'Why? Have I done something wrong?'

'Oh I don't know. Why don't you go and see?'

Neelum couldn't think of anything she had done. Surely, that incident with the Pathan was not going to haunt her now? Fearing a reprimand, she hurried to the office.

'Ah, here you are,' said Fuad with an oily smile. 'Please sit down, and I'll tell you what you are to do today.'

Neelum sighed with relief and sat down in the chair opposite MrFuad with more confidence than the last time she sat there.

'My secretary, Maria, has just informed me that her mother has passed away in India. She got a phone call last night and is flying home to India today to attend the funeral. I have decided you can take her place until she returns from her leave.'

Surprise and pleasure flitted across Neelum's face in turn. She found her voice, 'But I don't know how to type or take shorthand.'

Fuad rubbed his hands together as if he had just won the lottery.' That is not a problem. You will attend classes at the secretarial college in the evenings, which will be paid for. It will take you a few weeks to learn to type but that doesn't matter. I'll get someone from the agency to work on a temporary basis till then, and you will learn how to do secretarial work from her.'

Neelum looked at Fuad with suspicion. 'But if the job is temporary until Maria returns, why am I being sent for classes? The temp will do all the work, won't she?'

'Can't you see I am offering you a promotion? When Maria returns from India, she will take your place at the check-out, and you will be my secretary.' Fuad dropped his bombshell on the hapless Neelum.

'What?' she said perplexed. 'I've never been a secretary. And how will Maria feel about her demotion?'

'I see potential in you, Neelum,' said Fuad briskly. 'Don't worry about Maria. She will get over it. I don't want to make her redundant but she can't expect her job to be kept open indefinitely. Who knows how long she will be in India?'

'I'm not sure I'm capable of doing this job.'

'I want you as my secretary. That is my final word on the matter,' insisted Fuad. 'You are wasted on the check-out and I am the boss.' Neelum flinched, she had never seen Fuad so assertive. The manager noticed the young girl blink rapidly and softened his tone. 'Your salary will be upgraded too, of course. Now please, go get your things and settle down at your new desk in the adjoining office. The temp will be arriving soon from the agency and you should learn as much as you can from her today. The evening classes start tomorrow night and will be twice a week. Don't look so worried, my dear. Think of it as good fortune instead.'

With mixed emotions, Neelum left the office. A promotion and free training would be a dream come true, giving her the skills and experience to work in a more prestigious environment; but why did Fuad choose her? She was the new girl.

In the next few days, Neelum settled into her new routine. The temp, very helpful, taught her how to manage the filing system, prioritise work, make hotel and airline bookings when Fuad travelled to other Gulf countries on business, and also to keep his daily business diary.

Not everyone accepted Neelum's promotion and it caused jealousy among the other girls. When she ate lunch, Aarti said in aloud whisper to Shanti, 'We're not beautiful like her, we won't get promotions. We'll stay where we are. No pay increases for the likes of us.'

At home too, Kamala's remarks were scathing. 'And now you have to go for evening classes, leaving all the work here for me. You won't be able to cook dinner twice a week because you come home after nine-thirty from your classes.' Kamala raised her voice making sure Vikram heard, 'It's not right. Married women should never work. They must look after their husbands. And why do you get special treatment when you haven't been there very long?'

Neelum went about her tasks at home and in the office, determined not to let everything get her down. She told Vikram that she was worried about Fuad's intentions, but he just brushed it aside. 'Think of how much an extra wage will help us. We can save more money towards our future. Even if you don't like working there, later on you can get a better job. Those classes you are attending are expensive. Take Fuad for everything you can. Learn all you can from the temp too, your own personal office trainer!'Vikram ignored the worried shadows beneath Neelum's eyes and continued to praise his wife's good fortune. 'The training is a good investment in the long term. In the future, you could get a job in a bank. Everyone in Bahrain wants a bank job; they pay so well compared to other jobs.'

# CHAPTER 7

**5 June 1982**

'I can't believe how that sly bitch took my job.' Maria complained to Aarti as soon as there were no customers at her check-out. She had returned from India after her mother's funeral and raged against the injustice of her demotion.

'All my experience and skills as a secretary wasted here at the check-out.'

Aarti nodded in commiseration as Maria hissed, 'Who does she think she is? Just because she has a pretty face she thinks she can do this to me.'

Aarti finished with a customer and leaned towards Maria. 'I don't think it is entirely Neelum's fault. Fuad is captivated by her beauty and up to no good. He probably thinks he can take advantage of her but Neelum seems to be a good girl. Maria shrugged, unconvinced as Aarti continued to defend Neelum. 'In fact, she seems quite naive and I don't think she knows how to get up to hanky panky!'

'Money can spoil even good girls, Aarti. Why did she accept the job in the first place? She knew it was mine. I have no sympathy for her at all and hope she suffers for what she has done. '

Maria ignored Aarti's gasp and with a toss of her dark head said, 'In any case Fuad is a real pain to work for. I even had to remind him about personal appointments like visiting the hairdresser, paying his houseboy and to keep up with his mortgage payments.' Grinning maliciously Maria said, ' I hope he drives her crazy.'

The shrill cry of the Muezzin calling the faithful to prayer and marking the end of the fasting day resounded from the minarets. The holy month of Ramadan had begun and all Muslims were bound to fast from dawn until dusk.

Neelum, and Geeta who did the accounts, were working overtime. Fuad had rushed to his mother's house to join his brothers and sisters and their families for Iftar, the feast that followed the breaking of the fast.

'Lucky Muslim staff only working from 8.30 am till 2pm during Ramadan,' said Neelum.

'It's forty degrees outside,' said Geeta, 'do you know how hard it is to not have food and water for the whole day? Non-Muslims are not compelled to fast. We can have something to eat and drink tea as long as we are discreet.'

'But Fuad only pretends to fast,' said Neelum. 'When his office door is closed, he drinks water and has a sandwich. I've seen him,' she tittered. ' But at least he is nice to me, doesn't pressure me with work and even makes his own personal appointments. I can't understand why Maria found him such a pain to work for.'

'Well, you're not Maria,' said Geeta, then added slyly, 'by the way, does he try to make a pass at you?'

'What do you mean Geeta?'

'Oh nothing,' Geeta said and smirked. 'Forget I asked. Now let's go home. Another day, another dinar. I've done the accounts, and you've finished all your typing.'

They locked up and went outside into the hot, humid evening. Even at sundown, the relentless heat shimmered in waves from the pavement. 'I am so looking forward to when Ramadan ends and we get the three day Eid-ul-Fitr holidays,' said Neelum.

'Rather like Christmas and Diwali, don't you think? The Christians get Christmas Day off, and Hindus have Diwali.'

'And everyone gets the Eid holidays because this is a Muslim country.' They quickened their paces as they approached Neelum's home. Geeta lived a few streets further down.

'My mother-in-law drives me crazy,' said Neelum. 'You're so lucky your in-laws live in India, and you hardly see them.'

'I guess I am,' said Geeta with a smile. 'By the way, we might have to work overtime tomorrow because the Muslims can't do much work because of the fast.'

'I don't mind,' said Neelum, 'the extra money comes in handy.'

'I'm saving to buy a piece of land in Kerala. Later on we can build a house there.'

'And I want to put aside money for a rainy day,' said Neelum as they parted, 'but I don't want a house in India. Much better to migrate to some foreign country like Australia. Vikram has a cousin there. There is great demand for accountants like Vikram. And it will be wonderful to be far away from my mother-in-law for good.'

Neelum wearily climbed the stairs to her flat.

# CHAPTER 8

'How would you and Geeta like to come with me to the Firdausi Restaurant to break the fast this evening?' Fuad sounded bright and cheerful as he signed a letter with a flourish.

Neelum looked up from her typewriter, a crease of concentration furrowing her brows. 'I must go straight home after work. My mother-in-law will be waiting for me to help with dinner.'

'Why not tell her you are working overtime. You do sometimes, don't you?'

'I've never been to this restaurant. Is it vegetarian? We Hindus cannot eat meat.'

'It's a Pakistani restaurant and they make the best food in town. Chicken tikkas a speciality. They have plenty of vegetarian dishes for you and Geeta. You'll be spoiled for choice - dhal and palakpaneer – you know, lentils, and spinach with cheese.'

'I don't think we should be going...What if someone we know saw us there? I would get into trouble.'

Fuad continued to persuade, 'We'll sit in the family section that has partitions and is by the windows. Anyway it is a working day, not the weekend. Nobody will be about.' Irritated by Neelum's lack of enthusiasm his tone changed, 'Look, just phone your mother-in-law and tell her you have to work late,' and, dropping his pen with a harsh click, he added, 'That is not a request.'

'Oh, okay,' murmured Neelum.

Looking smug Fuad said, 'Meet me in the car park in ten minutes.'

Neelum and Geeta retreated to the privacy of the ladies toilet to freshen up. Geeta looked at their reflections in the mirror, 'I think Fuad just asked me along because he knows you won't go alone with him to the Firdausi Restaurant.' She rummaged in her bag for her bright red lipstick and painted her lips. Preening herself in the mirror, she said, ' Neelum, this is so exciting and dangerous. And you could have a very secure future job-wise.'

Geeta wheedled, 'What's the harm?' and visualized benefits flowing her way as Neelum's friend. The land and house in Kerala seemed one step closer to reality.

'Don't be silly, Geeta, he's just being nice to us because we work well for him,' said Neelum, powdering her face and applying kohl to accentuate her deep brown eyes and long dark hair neatly plaited. She wore gold earrings and a gold chain which were part of her wedding dowry and touched them gently to stem a shudder of apprehension. She quickly applied a pale pink lipstick and dabs of blusher to her cheeks. Must put a brave face on, she thought as she pushed away images of her mother-in-law's disapproving face and her husband's anger.

Geeta appraised her friend, 'You look wonderful. Now let's hurry. Won't do to keep Fuad waiting.'

Standing by his car, Fuad looked at Neelum with approval while ignoring dark, plump Geeta with a face scarred by pimples.

'Have you girls locked up the office?' Fuad glanced at their faces and smiled. 'That's good. Now off we go.'

Geeta nudged Neelum to sit in front while she climbed into the back seat.

The girls had never seen such food before. Fuad ordered chicken tikkas, raita, shami kebabs, naan and lamb biryani for himself, and vegetable biryani, dhal, palak paneer, and chappatis for them. They sipped soft drinks while Fuad had beer.

They were so focused on tucking into the food, only Geeta spoke.' This is really tasty food,' was all she said.

'We never eat out,' said Neelum. 'My husband and in-laws think it is a waste of money.'

'What a pity. Dining out is one of the pleasures of life,' said Fuad finishing his third beer and displaying his mellow mood. Feeling magnanimous, he said, 'Choose whatever desserts you want. I recommend the kulfi, or Pakistani ice cream. It's heavenly. Or you could have the gulab jamun or rice kheer.'

'I don't think I could eat another morsel,' said Neelum, 'but I'll try the kulfi.' The rich creamy home made ice cream with ground almonds and pistachios was delicious and greatly appreciated by the girls.

They were finishing with cups of tea when Fuad said on a more solemn note, 'I want to suggest something of importance.' Both girls tensed, wondering what their boss had in mind. They didn't expect his next remarks.

'You know Bahraini women wear western clothes to work? Well I would prefer the girls working in my supermarket to wear such clothes just like the locals do.'

The girls did not hide their surprise. 'I don't think my mother-in-law would approve,' said Neelum.

'Those clothes are so expensive in the shops,' said Geeta. 'Imported from England they cost at least twenty dinars a dress. I can't afford it.'

'In a business environment it is good to dress properly,' Fuad insisted, 'I'm aware of the expense if you buy them from the stores, so I am going to give all the female staff a clothing allowance. Enough to buy a few items of clothing.'

Neelum and Geeta were quiet as they mulled over this announcement. Unaware he had turned their world upside down, Fuad settled the bill.

For the sake of appearances, Neelum and Geeta left the restaurant together and made their way home. Dusk had fallen and they were an hour late so they quickened their footsteps.

Neelum worried aloud, 'Fuad wants us to change but we have always worn our Indian clothes. We'll feel so odd wearing dresses and skirts, and showing our legs.'

Geeta giggled. 'This is not India. When in Rome do as the Romans do.'

# CHAPTER 9

**18 August 1982**

Kamala lay on the sofa in the living room and moaned. 'I've got the most terrible headache,' she declared and swallowed another tablet. 'And it's all because of you Neelum and your foolish ideas. I knew nothing good would come of this job.'

Vikram looked from his mother to Neelum in exasperation. 'I wish you didn't have to quarrel all the time, Mother. Lots of wives get jobs in Bahrain. There's nothing wrong in that and it is a great help financially when a whole salary can be saved. Why would anyone want to leave their home country if not to save for a better future, perhaps buy a big house back home, or have a good bank balance for a rainy day.'

'But Neelum is now wanting to wear western clothes to work, because she says that is the trend. If she can give up Indian clothes how easily will she give up our Indian culture and customs? Soon she will say she is eating meat because everybody here does that,' Kamala wailed. 'Who would have thought it would come to this?'

'Even in Bombay office girls wear western clothes,' said Vikram. 'They do seem to be more practical.'

'What is the need for her to work when you are getting such a handsome salary? If she has to change Indian culture, isn't it better for her to be at home where there is plenty to do?'

'Mother, you have to live with the times. You must go forward, not backwards.'

'But all the burden falls on me,' cried Kamala.

Vikram hesitated before sitting down on the sofa by his mother. 'Neelum and I have been discussing the future, and we feel that it is better that we move into that vacant flat across the road. We should have our own space and you will have much less work to do.'

Kamala started hitting her forehead with her hand, sobbing and wailing, 'Neelum has changed you! You never used to be so uncaring about my feelings.'

'No one has changed. I just can't abide the constant quarrelling between the two of you. Having your own home and kitchen each will be much more peaceful!' said Vikram, and seeing the news didn't comfort Kamala, he quickly added, 'We'll just be across the road if there is an emergency. And we'll visit often.'

Unappeased, Kamala said, 'When I got married, I lived with my husband's family, and would have done so for the rest of my life; but we came here for better prospects. Wait till your father comes home from work and hears this terrible news, now pass me those tablets for my nerves, I feel I'm going to have a breakdown.'

'Everything will be fine, you will see,' Vikram placated as he handed his mother the tablets and a glass of water. 'Modern Indians do not live in the joint family system, only people in the villages. You'll get used to it, and both you and Neelum will be happier.'

Neelum listened intently to the conversation while setting the table for dinner. She placed bowls of hot food and rotis on the table.

'Dinner is ready, please come to the table Mother,' said Neelum, and to ease the tension she started to chat about shopping. 'Did I tell you that the girls in the supermarket will be buying materials in the souk? Lovely cottons and silks we'll give to the tailor to stitch into dresses. The tailors have books of patterns we can choose from so our money from the clothing allowance will stretch further by not buying from the stores.'

Kamala sniffed and sat down to help herself to pav bhaji and rotis. 'What sort of dresses? Will they be short and revealing?'

'No Mother, not at all. The dresses will be mid-way between the knee and ankle, very modest. All will have long sleeves and high necklines, and we'll be wearing stockings.'

They finished the meal in silence as Kamala refused to be drawn into any attempt at conversation. Vikram shrugged with indifference when Neelum threw pointed looks his way to penetrate his male arrogance. But as far as he was concerned he had made a decision and that was that.

Kamala watched the clock as she waited for her husband to come home from work. When she heard the key turn in the lock, she hurried to the door and motioned him to go to their bedroom where she ranted about the younger generation's abandonment of Indian culture. In a voice laced with bitterness, she bemoaned Vikram's decision before getting onto her favourite subject and laying all the blame for her unhappiness on Neelum.

'We should never have come to this country. Now Vikram is only doing everything to please Neelum by moving into the vacant flat across the road.'

Ajit did not answer for some time. He had learned over the years to take the path of least resistance with Kamala but he too felt weary listening to her frequent outbursts and demands and secretly felt sorry for Neelum. At last, he said, 'They will be close by as Vikram said. What can we do to stop them?' He raised his hands in a gesture of resignation, 'And you don't get along with Neelum because in your eyes no wife could ever be good enough for your son.'

Kamala ignored the subtle rebuke and blustered, 'But what about our traditions? Are we going to give them all up?'

'What our son said is true, we are not living in India now. There is no one to see whether we are keeping up the traditions or not. Neelum is not our responsibility. She is Vikram's wife. Can I have my dinner now?'

Kamala knew she had lost the battle. With a face as cold as stone, she went to fetch her husband's meal.

# CHAPTER 10

Neelum looked around the flat with the air of a queen surveying her domain. I can do what I please. Cook what I please, not what she wants.

She looked at the pattern book she had borrowed from the tailor whose shop was on the ground floor of Kamala's flat. That box-pleated skirt looks good, and the frilly blouse an attractive match. She planned to visit the souk on the weekend and buy some nice material. A dark blue for the skirt, and silk for the blouse in a paler blue.

There were two bedrooms in the new flat, a lounge-cum-dining room, a passage which led to the kitchen and bathroom. Although she could take the rickety lift to the third floor, Neelum preferred climbing the stairs. She spent hours cleaning and polishing the flat, a labour of love rather than the chore she had always felt when cleaning at Kamala's. They had persuaded the landlord to lay new carpets and Vikram had agreed to buy a new gas cooker with oven as well as a new fridge and washing machine on credit.

I really must keep my job because rent takes up a lot of Vikram's salary. Mustn't get on Fuad's wrong side, yet he is really acting quite strange. He told me not to wear the red in my hair parting and the bindi dot on my forehead but he must know it's a sign of marriage for Hindus. Perhaps Geeta is right and he fancies me! If Kamala had a clue, she would stop me from going to work even if it meant making a scene in the supermarket...yet Vikram doesn't seem to mind. Neelum closed the pattern book.

I must not worry Vikram with my problems and try to deal with it myself. Vikram works so hard and needs peace when he comes home... I must try to be a good wife. Neelum closed her eyes and as usual an image of Aamir appeared. But I can't...he would have minded that Fuad is misbehaving, thought Neelum. Aamir would be very angry.

On Friday, Neelum went to the cloth souk and bought material for a skirt, two blouses, and a dress before visiting the tailor.

'Make sure you finish stitching them by next Friday,' she instructed, 'and I'll come for a fitting on Wednesday evening. I don't want them too tight like my last kameez.'

Two weeks later at lunch time, Neelum, Geeta, Aarti and Shanti took out their tiffins and warmed them on the hot plate. The boys, Deepak and Shashi joined them. 'You girls are getting very modern,' said Deepak, 'no saris and removing the red from your hair parting and the bindi on the forehead. Why the sudden change?'

Aarti looked self consciously at Neelum. 'Instructions from the boss. Apparently it is good for business to dress like the locals.'

'What do you think of Fuad now?' said Shashi. 'The boys complain he is tight fisted and mean. If we work late, he does not pay overtime; says it's part of the job. There are no unions so employers are kings here. If we want to change jobs we have to get a local release paper from the boss, and knowing Fuad he could refuse to give it.'

'Fuad is quite nice to us girls, especially Neelum and Geeta,' said Aarti, raising her eyebrows in a knowing look. 'I don't want to say anything because without this job, we would not be able to pay the rent and have money left over for necessities. Not on what my husband earns. I think we should all seek better jobs once we gain some experience.'

'That's what I was thinking too,' agreed Neelum, 'but we have to be careful. Not a word to the others. Vikram says money spent on education is money well spent. It's an investment for our whole future.'

'That's true,' said Geeta. 'I did a course in accounting in India before coming here but I won't be leaving. People always think the grass is greener on the other side but that's not true. Just be content and happy you have a job.' Geeta smoothed a wisp of hair from her face announcing, 'I get paid better than anyone else except for Neelum.'

'Surely a secretary's salary is not higher than an accountant's?' declared Shashi. 'Here it is and I wonder why?" said Aarti, looking directly at Neelum who blushed and looked down. Neelum glanced at her watch and with relief said, 'Time to get back to work.'

# CHAPTER 11

'What are you doing for the Eid holidays?' asked Fuad as he signed the bundle of letters Neelum had typed. 'I will be visiting Dubai. Thank heavens Ramadan will soon be over. You can't expect much from workers who are fasting. And I too find it hard to work when fasting.'

Neelum smiled to herself. What a hypocrite, keeping up the presence of honoring Ramadan!

'I will remain in Bahrain,' said Neelum. 'I never get time to do a thorough clean of the whole flat, so I'll do that in between relaxing and perhaps watching videos. Maybe visit the in-laws...'

'Did I mention that all you girls look really smart in your western clothes?' said Fuad, 'you in particular, especially without the dot on your forehead. Very fashionable, just like the local girls.'

Neelum grimaced. 'My mother-in-law raised the roof when I started wearing these clothes. She doesn't know that I don't wear the dot on my forehead when I come to work'

Fuad smirked. 'Your mother-in-law sounds very old-fashioned. Still living in a different world. You are living in the modern world.' Fuad's tone changed and he repeated the words Neelum dreaded,' Now there is something I wish to talk about.'

Neelum cringed. 'Oh?' I hope it's nothing more to do with our appearance. Fuad is becoming a pain like Maria said.

'I want you to do a computer course in the evenings, which will be paid for. It's 1982 and every office is using computers. Soon electric typewriters will be obsolete.'

Genuinely pleased, Neelum said, 'How wonderful! I would love to learn to use a computer for word processing. The temp told me all about it. It's so much easier to make changes in letters and documents. Tippex corrections show up on letters even when I try to white-out the mistakes skillfully.'

Buoyed by Neelum's enthusiasm Fuad said, 'Well computers are the way forward but I hope you always remember you'd still be a check-out operator if not for me and,' he warned, 'I won't allow you to work anywhere else.'

Neelum put her cup down. Making eye contact with her boss, she said, 'You won't regret sending me to the classes. I'll be the best secretary you could ever have. I appreciate the opportunity to train.'

Fuad beamed. 'Now, depending on the sighting of the new moon, the Eid holidays could start tomorrow. Enjoy the break but make sure you finish all your work before you go home.'

Geeta, who had been listening at the door, darted away like a snake through long grass.

When Fuad left, Neelum paused in her work and started doodling in her shorthand notebook. She drew a man in a suit with a stick, beating the air around him. Giggling she wrote, 'I'm the boss. You can't work anywhere else.' She scribbled through her artwork before tearing the paper into shreds and throwing the scraps in the wastepaper basket.

The door opened and Neelum looked guilty when Geeta sidled in. 'Did you think I was Fuad back to catch you slacking?' she said. 'But you're the chosen one, so he'd never fire you.'

'What do you mean?' asked Neelum

'Lucky you're going on a computer course, all paid for,' said Geeta.

'How do you know? Have you been listening outside again?'

Geeta blushed. 'It doesn't matter how I know. What matters is that your job is secure. You can think of buying property in India now.'

'I told you, I don't want to go back to India. I have no ties to the place. I was born in Dubai.'

'Now, now, don't be so tetchy. Such good things are coming your way and you don't seem to realize it.'

'From where I stand, I feel trapped in this job. I want to do better than work in a supermarket.'

'Trapped? I would give anything to be in your place. Believe me, job security is most important for an expatriate. We're here on a temporary basis and must make hay while the sun shines. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?'

# CHAPTER 12

Neelum and Vikram sat at the dining table strewn with bank statements. Vikram ran his finger down the previous month's statement. 'We've managed to save your entire salary while living on mine. You've worked for a year, so it's three thousand dinars.'

'How much is that in Australian dollars?' asked Neelum, ' You said we might think of going there one day. Wouldn't it be lovely!'

Vikram only took a moment to calculate, 'Nine thousand Australian dollars. I've heard that lots of Indians are thinking of going to Australia or Canada when they finish here because they won't be able to or don't want to re-adapt to India.'

'Didn't I say the same thing to you?'

'I believe you did.' As he gathered the bank statements into a neat pile to file, he said, 'Anyway, what's up with work?'

Neelum put her elbows on the table and looked serious. 'I want to change my job. You said your office friend knows someone who works in a bank, and there's a vacancy for a secretary. Maybe I could try for that and double the salary I get at the supermarket. We could be rich!' Neelum exclaimed.

'Not as rich as I'd like to be,' Vikram said, 'but we're half-way there. If you are sure you have mastered the computer and your typing and shorthand are up to scratch I can speak to my friend tomorrow.'

Neelum leaned against him, her dark eyes serious. 'I know I got my first chance at the supermarket, but now I'm bored. There is no higher position plus the salary is not very high. Working in a bank has to be better. Which bank is it?'

'The First National Bank of America, and they'll expect a very high standard of work but I'm sure you can do it.' Vikram smiled and gave Neelum's arm a reassuring squeeze.

'I'm dreading handing Fuad my resignation. He said he would not give me a local release to work anywhere else because he's invested a lot of money sending me to classes.'

Vikram got up and put the file in a drawer. 'One thing at a time. First my friend will set up an interview for you with the Marketing Manager of the bank. Your shorthand and typing will be tested and if successful, you will then have a second interview. If you reach that stage, then we can think of how to get the local release.'

Neelum nodded with relief at Vikram's decisiveness. There were times when she was happy to let him plan her life.

It was Thursday evening. Neelum made cups of tea and fried pakoras and onion bajias. As they sat down to watch Amitabh Bachhan's latest film on video, the telephone rang and Neelum turned down the volume as she hurried to answer it. 'It's your father,' she said solemnly. 'His heart.... mother has called the ambulance.'

They rushed from the flat, the pakoras and tea forgotten, the video playing to an empty room. They drove over to Kamala's flat to pick her up and left for the Sakawat hospital, a government hospital free for all residents whether local or expatriate. They would have preferred the Anglican Mission Hospital but it charged more than they could afford, as did the Medina Hospital where only the most affluent went.

Kamala cried all the way, demented with grief and angry she could not go in the ambulance with Ajit. 'Oh what is to become of me,' she wailed.

'Don't worry, Mother, everything will be all right. They have the best doctors at the Sakawat in intensive care. Nowadays a heart attack is nothing,' soothed Vikram.

'Yes, medicine has advanced so much since the olden days,' consoled Neelum, unused to a distraught Kamala. Eventually they arrived at the hospital, each minute more like an hour and punctuated by sobbing when Kamala burst into a fresh wail. Eventually a doctor with an ashen face came into the room. They knew the outcome before he said, 'I'm terribly sorry, we could not save him.'

Kamala shrieked in sorrow, 'Now I'm a widow, I'll be banished from society. I will have to wear only white, abandon my wedding jewelry, and never wear red in my hair parting. I will be invisible and powerless.'

'What nonsense, Mother,' said Vikram, putting his arms around her. 'We will never permit you to live like this, you are not in India. You will live with us, we will look after you,' he said looking at Neelum for support.

Neelum sat silent, twisting her dupatta in her hands, visualizing the fresh threat that lay ahead if Kamala came to their flat. Neelum would again be delegated to second place in her own home.

She should go live with her daughter in Kuwait, who is doing very well. I cannot live with her. Vikram will have to choose, it's either her or me.

Outwardly calm and dutiful, Neelum grieved with Vikram and Kamala. She stood in support when Vikram lit the flames and helped to restrain Kamala who tried to fling herself on the flames. Neelum hid her anger at Kamala's melodramatic reminder of suttee, a custom outlawed over a century ago by the British colonial rulers. A positive interference in local culture because widows were expected to burn themselves on the pyre along with their deceased husbands. Some preferred death rather than renouncing life and living as outcasts in society but Neelum was sure many women would have gone reluctantly to their fiery death! She shuddered when she thought of the custom still being practiced in remote villages of India.

# CHAPTER 13

Two weeks after the funeral, Neelum complained to Vikram, 'Your mother expects me to be her servant, to bring her tea, cook for her, rub her feet when she's tired. I go to work, and am tired when I come home. She behaves like an invalid yet she is not ill.'

Aware Kamala in her widow whites was totally bereft without her husband, Vikram said nothing. He knew Neelum had never lost anyone close and her youth made it difficult to empathise with his mother, especially considering the simmering animosity between the two women. However, day by day the tension grew between Neelum and Kamala until Neelum snapped.

'Either your mother or I will stay in this house. The situation is unbearable for me. I will go back to my parents in Dubai.'

Kamala had reached a similar decision. She said spitefully, 'I will be much happier with Asha in Kuwait. Neelum has no time forme, and she's always in a bad mood. I suppose that is the lot of a widow. It's always better to live with a daughter than a daughter-in-law.'

The day after Kamala left for Kuwait, Neelum celebrated by heading to the beauty salon. What a relief. No more criticism from Kamala. Now I can cut my hair into a modern style and start wearing western clothes all the time, not just to work.

Neelum looked at her reflection in the mirror, turning her head this way and that. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she saw her lovely tresses scattered on the floor. Aamir had loved her long hair and wouldn't approve but Vikram would not care if she told him she wanted to smarten her appearance for work.

Hairdresser Cora said, 'I hope you won't miss your long hair. I was hesitant about cutting but you were so sure you wanted to.' She ran her hands through Neelum's remaining locks. 'Shoulder length hair does suit you though. I put in highlights to accentuate your eyes. And now, do you want your nails done too? '

'I'll have a pedicure and manicure today,' said Neelum. 'You know, it's ages since I had one.'

Immersing Neelum's feet in the foot spa, Cora started clipping around her cuticles and moisturising them with cuticle oil.

'I have to go for an interview tomorrow and want to look my best,' confided Neelum.

'You have secure work in a supermarket don't you?'

'Yes, but I'm bored with the job and the routine. My boss is demanding and difficult to work for.'

'What is the pay like?'

'The salary is low. I'm trying for a bank job.'

'Oh, yes they are highly paid. Everyone wants a job in a bank. I suppose we'll be seeing more of you if you get the job. You'll have more money to spend.'

'I will have to look extra presentable if I get the job. It's an American offshore bank. I'm trying to feel confident because I have done a secretarial and a computer course. Plus I now have a year's working experience too,' said Neelum, 'but I don't want to count my chickens before they're hatched!'

'Very wise but you're so lucky. All I have done is a course at beauty school in the Philippines. I don't have the time or the money to train here. Every penny I save I send home to my children and parents.'

Neelum blushed, remembering Geeta's constant insinuations that Neelum was spoiled and lucky with success coming too easy. She looked at Cora and felt sorry for the girl. She couldn't imagine having to send all her money overseas to support family.

Neelum alighted from the taxi in the Diplomatic Area and entered the tall glass building housing the bank. She gazed in awe at the marble lobby and headed for the corner where a security officer sat at his desk.

'I have an appointment at the First National Bank of America.'

'Take the lift to the fourth floor,' said the security officer politely, 'and ring the bell. All the floors have a security code.'

Neelum entered the lift and pressed the button for the fourth floor. When she rang the bell, she had to identify herself before the door opened to reveal a girl who introduced herself as Laila. She took her to Afsana, the general manager's secretary. Neelum completed an application form carefully and, with a thumping heart, handed it over to Afsana. She gazed around the office. Wall to wall carpeting in deep blue, black furniture for the officers, white desks for their secretaries and a plethora of swivel chairs. Central air-conditioning made the room cool and comfortable.

Afsana interrupted Neelum's staring, 'You'll be working for two account officers, both of them from England.' Neelum barely had time to smile before Afsana added, 'I see you are just twenty.' She perused Neelum's application form. 'And you have only worked at a supermarket.' Afsana frowned. Neelum felt her stomach churn.

Afsana said, 'I'll let Geoff know you're here,' and went to the Marketing Manager's office to hand in the application form. Neelum fidgeted with her handbag and kept looking at Afsana out of the corner of her eye. A Bahraini, well dressed Afsana oozed confidence. After what seemed like hours, the Marketing Manager came over to Neelum.

'Would you like to come to my office while I ask you a few questions?' He smiled a welcome. 'By the way, I'm Geoff McCarthy... and you are... ah yes, Neelum,' he said, glancing at the application.

Neelum tottered behind Mr McCarthy, following on her high heels. He sounded American, and she hoped that if he gave her a shorthand test, he would not dictate too fast. In her resume she handwritten her shorthand speed at a hundred words per minute, but she was not used to the American or English accent. Most of the people she met at work were either Indian, Pakistani, or Bahraini.

Geoff put her at ease and dictated a passage from the editorial in the Bahrain Herald Sun. Neelum sighed with relief he hadn't chosen from the financial section. This could have been expected from a bank. He also dictated slowly helping her confidence to return.

When asked to read it back, she did so without faltering. 'Now type the dictation at Afsana's desk,' said Geoff with an encouraging smile.

Afsana gave Neelum ten minutes to practice on the electric typewriter before testing her.

Neelum screwed up her face and concentrated on the task at hand. When she had transcribed from her dictation, she handed it over to Afsana.

Afsana read it as minutes ticked over. 'You have just one mistake in the letter Mr McCarthy dictated but your typing is good, no mistakes. You will hear from us in a day or two because there are other candidates.'

Neelum went home and waited for Vikram to finish work. The day seemed interminably long even though she made herself busy and prepared a sweet dish of sooji halwa to have with tea.

At last, seated at the table, her voice trembled with excitement as she described the bank's posh interior, the well dressed staff, meeting the Marketing Manager and how she took dictation, concentrating hard to catch his American accent. She finished her story with a flourish, boasting how she had done well in the test with only one mistake.

'Good, but don't get your hopes too high,' said Vikram. 'The other candidates might do as well or even better, and they might have a lot more experience than you.'

The next day at the supermarket, an angry Fuad returned from lunch in a terrible mood. 'You forgot to inform me about my luncheon appointment with the Dawoods,' he fumed. 'When their secretary phoned they were at the Hilton waiting for me, I wished the ground could swallow me. You know they are one of the foremost business families on the island.'

Neelum flushed with shame. 'I'm really sorry, I've never done something like this before,' she stuttered. 'It won't happen again.'

'I should hope not!' spluttered Fuad and, seeing her genuine embarrassment, softened his tone. 'And you seem miles away today. You don't seem to be concentrating. Is everything all right at home? Are you feeling unwell?'

'No, everything is all right... my husband is still grieving his father and we are not sleeping as well as we should,' Neelum replied, glad she could think of a plausible excuse so quickly and gain Fuad's sympathy rather than his anger. Oh how I hope I get offered the job at the bank!

# CHAPTER 14

**10 November, 1982**

The next day as Neelum left for the supermarket the phone rang and she held her breath as Afsana said, 'Neelum, you have been selected from the short-list of five candidates. When can you come to the office to discuss the terms of your employment? The sooner the better.'

'I'll be there in half an hour,' said Neelum trying hard to sound professional and not like an excited child. She took several deep breaths and calmed down before ringing Geeta. She tried to sound ill and told Geeta she would be late because she had a doctor's appointment. Then she flagged a taxi near her flat and, flushed with excitement, arrived at the building.

Afsana led her to Geoff McCarthy's office. He smiled and motioned her to a seat. 'How soon can you start working with us? How much notice do you have to give your present employer?'

'I have to give a month's notice to enable them to get a replacement.'

'How does the 10th of December sound? That's just a month from now.'

'I will be here on the 10th of next month.'

'Good,' said Geoff. 'Now, let's get down to business. The salary offered is five hundred dinars a month. You will be on three months probation and have a performance review every year, and depending on your performance you may be eligible for a raise. Furthermore, there is a month's paid holiday leave every year, and fifteen days sick leave with all your medical bills reimbursed. Any questions?'

'What are the working hours?' said Neelum.

'You begin work at 8 am and finish at 2.30 pm, but once a week all the Marketing secretaries are required to take a lunch break in rotation and then work till 5.30 pm. Thursdays are "half days" when we work till 1.00 pm. Of course, you may be required to work late

some days and you will be paid overtime. Is that all right with you ?'

'Of course,' said Neelum at once.

Geoff McCarthy smiled at her eagerness, 'I look forward to seeing you at 8 o'clock in a month's time, Neelum. My secretary will help you get settled. You will work for John Stevens and Andrew Davey. Their previous secretary emigrated to Canada.'

Neelum was about to leave when a young woman approached and said, 'I am Laila, Geoff's secretary. I work in Marketing too. Good luck with the job!'

'Thanks Laila,' said Neelum with a smile.

Before Neelum left the office, Afsana said, 'This is an American bank. You will be given the security code to enter each floor when you report for duty. We occupy the third and fourth floors. Administration, Accounts, Personnel and Foreign Exchange are on the third floor. Management and Marketing are on this floor.'

Overwhelmed by all this information Neelum asked, 'Will I be using a computer? The supermarket is small compared to this bank!'

'Yes, the whole office will be computerized soon. In the meantime, we have a room on this floor where secretaries take turns to use the computer. A lot of work is still done on electric typewriters such as the officers' business travel accounts and some spread sheets.' Afsana noticed Neelum's discomfort and said, 'Anyway, we'll see you in a month's time.'

Neelum took the lift to the ground floor and as it sped towards the ground she felt as if she was flying rather than descending. She had never seen such a grand office building before and couldn't believe her luck. The security officer at his desk nodded politely and Neelum beamed. She floated out of the building and decided to walk back to her flat, twenty minutes away in Gudaibiya. The crumbling flats and houses there were a far cry from the Diplomatic area, but Neelum didn't care today as the sun shone and she revealed her happiness by occasionally skipping and always keeping a huge smile on her face. She breathed in the concoction of spices wafting from the houses and for the first time in a while her appetite felt stimulated. Vikram should be happy I have the job, I'll ask him to take me to dinner to celebrate.

# CHAPTER 15

Stealthy as a cat, Neelum tip-toed into the office. She had come in half an hour early so that she could type out her resignation letter without Fuad reading over her shoulder. What excuse should she give for resigning? Looking after her aged mother-in-law would have been plausible, except that Kamala had gone to Kuwait to live with her daughter. Perhaps she could say that she suffered from ill health and wanted to rest and recuperate at home for a prolonged period. Fuad and the rest of the staff will be here soon so I'd better get on with it.

Fuad arrived just after 8 am and dropped his briefcase with a thump beside his desk. He saw the envelope lying in the centre of the table and picked it up. He took out the sheet of folded paper and read it slowly and looked in Neelum's direction. Neelum felt Fuad's eyes burning into her head but continued to open the mail and date stamp it. She felt rather than saw him walk towards her desk but looked up when he spoke.

Fuad controlled his fury and in a voice as cold as ice said, 'This resignation letter,' he waved the piece of paper Neelum had spent so long typing. 'You say you are unwell and have to stay home to get better but why do you have to resign? You can take sick leave.' Fuad slapped his hand on the desk and Neelum jumped. 'Is this a ploy to work somewhere else?'

'No,' said Neelum, her quick denial sounding false, even to herself. Flustered she rushed her words, 'I have been feeling run down lately and the doctor says I must have prolonged rest from work.' She made contact with Fuad's blazing eyes and a surge of defiance made her voice stronger, ' I have given the required one month's notice, and I will make sure you get a good replacement and train her before I leave.'

Neelum's tone irritated Fuad even more. 'If you find another job, you won't get a local release from me. I went to a great deal of trouble to get you the work permit in the first place because you had a passport stamped: Not permitted to take employment. I have invested a lot in you. Sent you to secretarial school and for computer training.'

Neelum interrupted before Fuad could work himself into a rage, 'My husband wants me to rest at home. I assure you I am not going for another job.' She hoped she sounded convincing, 'It will be easy for you to get a competent secretary in my place and I will train her myself. You'll see, there will be a smooth transition.'

Stunned by Neelum's resolute and confident manner, Fuad paused.

'Shall I get your morning coffee now?' asked Neelum, appearing more relaxed than she felt. 'And here is the Gulf Daily News.' She pushed the newspaper towards Fuad. 'These days all the news is about the war between Iran and Iraq.'

Neelum put on a cheerful front but the air remained frosty. Fuad barely glanced at the newspaper as he snatched it from her desk and marched back to his own.

Neelum placed a steaming cup of coffee before him but it remained untouched. The grim expression on his face remained fixed. Neelum sorted out the mail and put it in two plastic folders on Fuad's desk. He looked at her with eyes tinged with menace. She shivered.

'My Dear, I will never let you leave this job,' Fuad said in a voice as sinister as any Hollywood gangster. 'You won't be able to work anywhere else. I can even arrange for you to be sent back to India. That is, after all, where you are from.'

Neelum's fingers curled into a fist and she felt her nails digging into her palms. A shiver of fear coursed down her spine as Fuad said coolly, 'Now get to work. Is there anything that needs my urgent attention?'

Neelum stared at Fuad defiantly. 'Yes there is. The staff haven't had an increment for two years. They are worried because the cost of living has gone up. How can they send remittances home to support their families with all their money spent on living expenses in Bahrain?'

Fuad mulled over this, chewing his lip. 'You always champion their cause yet as part management you should see my point of view. Didn't you see the profit and loss statement which Geeta prepared? Profits are down this year by eight percent. How can I justify giving the staff an increase?' Neelum blanched as Fuad's tone became harsher and he threw his final barb at her, 'And why do you still care when you are leaving?'

Taking great care to keep her voice matter-of-fact, Neelum explained, 'Sir, think of it this way. They will work harder if they are made happy and your profits will increase. There is a slump in consumer demand at the moment because prices of groceries have gone up. But these things are essential items and have to be bought to survive. When workers get an increase in salary, these are the things that they will rush to buy.'

The silence that followed had Neelum shuffling the letters on her desk and wondering if she had said too much. Fuad liked to think he knew everything and always wanted his own way. She waited for another tirade but in a wheedling tone Fuad said, 'You always know the answers, Neelum. We make a good team. Why don't I just tear up this resignation and put it in the bin? Surely you know which way your bread is buttered?'

Neelum shook her head, 'Sir, lots of secretaries are looking for jobs. You will have no problem replacing me. Life is hard in India so girls are satisfied with any job in Bahrain. Many will be desperate for a job like mine.' Neelum stood in front of Fuad's desk, 'Now would you like to sign these letters? The top one is to the British Embassy requesting a visa to travel to England for the food conference.' She slipped the letters into a clear plastic folder and placed it beside Fuad.

Her boss looked at his appointment diary and pushed his chair back. With a dismissive wave of his hand he said, 'I have to go for a meeting. I'll return this afternoon.' Neelum sighed with relief. She could now do filing pending since last week and, most importantly, she could sit and plan how to leave this hellhole.

When Neelum went home that evening, Vikram had his head buried in the newspaper as usual. She related what had happened at work and he handed her a piece of paper.

'Here is the medical certificate from my doctor friend.'

Neelum raised her eyebrows and Vikram said, 'We used to go to the same school in India and I discovered he is practicing here in Bahrain. The certificate says that you have clinical depression and need to give up work and recuperate at home on medication.'

She took the certificate, 'Good, I will take it to Fuad tomorrow. He will have to let me go but he made such a fuss, I'm afraid of what he might do.'

'Don't worry about him. You are on my sponsorship as my wife. He can't send you back to India but do not tell a single soul that you have found a job in the bank. Break all contact with people from the supermarket once you leave. It won't be easy for them to find out about your new job.'

'I'll start making dinner,' Neelum said, relieved Vikram was showing he had a backbone. 'You read the paper or watch TV while I cook. I'm making your favourite, khichri with vegetable cutlets and kaddi. We can have it with the carrot pickle I made two weeks ago.'

# CHAPTER 16

'You are suffering from a mental illness? Since when? Why didn't you tell me you have been seeing a psychiatrist ?' Fuad peered at the medical certificate in his hand, turning it over as if it could be revealed as counterfeit.

'I thought if I told you, I would be fired. There is such a stigma attached to mental illness but it is important you are told because I must resign.' Neelum quickly added, 'and I can advertise my position today. Please sign this letter and I will send it off to the classified section of the Gulf Daily News.'

Fuad stared at Neelum as if he had never seen her before. 'You should have mentioned something to me about your mental state. It says here you have had a psychotic episode. I had no idea. I would not have invested so much money in getting you trained.' His voice became heavy. 'This does put a different slant on things. According to the law, if your doctor recommends you take treatment and stop working, it is allowed. I am within my rights to send you back to your country but you are on your husband's sponsorship.' He sighed loudly. 'I will now have to interview the candidates for your position. As if I don't have enough to do already.'

Fuad leaned back in his chair. 'Now get me a cup of coffee,' and, thinking aloud, he moaned, 'So much upheaval in the office, what with you leaving, and Deepak and Chandra going on annual leave to India and their positions needing temporary replacements. I hate days like this.'

Neelum came back with two steaming mugs of coffee and sipped hers with an expressionless face. Vikram's plan had worked. Most employers did not want to employ people suffering from mental illness. And she was safe from deportation because she was on Vikram's visa.

Fuad signed the letter to the Gulf Daily News for an advertisement for a secretary to the manager of a supermarket.

The ad stated that the applicant 'Must be fluent in English, as well as proficient in shorthand and typing, and have good computer skills. Must be neat and presentable.'

Over the next few days, letters of application poured into the office. Fuad told Neelum to make a shortlist from the sixty five applications. She selected ten based on their education and experience. The applicants were Indian or Sri Lankan. Bahraini girls would not work at a supermarket because of the low salary.

Neelum put the folder with the selected applications on Fuad'sdesk. He perused the applications for twenty minutes then looked up and said, 'Why don't you write letters to all of them, asking them to come for an interview. Call five applicants a day, and space them an hour apart to allow time for shorthand and typing tests. After that, I will personally interview each one.'

'Should I give them a difficult passage in shorthand, or an easy one?'

'Dictate a paragraph from the financial section of the Gulf Daily News.'

'But, Sir, that will be quite hard for them.' She did not add that given the salary offered, he could not expect the cream of the crop.

'Just do as I say and remain impartial. I don't want you to be easy on someone just because they are from your caste or region of India.'

'I would never do that. I always work in a professional manner.'

Fuad insisted on the last word and took the high moral ground. 'Oh, yes, professional - that you have pretended to be normal these many months!'

Neelum blushed and dropped her head, refusing to meet Fuad's haughty stare.

Sheela Mendis sat across from Fuad's desk. Hope shone from her brown eyes. An English graduate from a university in Southern India, she had done very well in taking dictation from the finance section of the newspaper. She had good computer skills and a pleasant demeanor. Dressed in a navy blue skirt and cream blouse, she had pinned her dark shoulder length hair back neatly with clips. Fuad

scrutinized her application and test results.

'How long have you been in Bahrain, Sheela?'

'Two years. I have been working for a real estate agent.'

'So I see,' said Fuad. 'Jawed and Hasnain. Why are you leaving?'

'For better prospects and this place is a few streets from my home. My present place of work in Rifaa takes me forty minutes by bus.'

'What salary are you expecting?'

'I earn two hundred dinars a month. I hope it's better here.'

'We are offering two hundred and fifty dinars. That is what my present secretary, Neelum, earns. Are you on your husband's sponsorship?'

'I am single and on my company's sponsorship.'

'We will sponsor you too, provided your work is satisfactory. I see that you are twenty three years old. Are you staying with relatives?'

'My sister and I share a flat.'

Fuad's face transformed and he smiled as he said, 'Good, very good.'

Neelum could read Fuad's lascivious thoughts and hoped Sheela would be able to withstand Fuad's advances.

Fuad rubbed his hands together in glee and said, 'Now, when can you start? Neelum is here for the next month and can show you the work.'

'I can start next week.'

'So soon? Wonderful. Learn all you can from Neelum before she leaves.'

Neelum showed Sheela out of the office and went back to her desk. Fuad still looked pleased. 'I think Sheela will be a good worker and an asset,' he said.

# CHAPTER 17

It took Neelum two hours to empty the filing tray. She deposited the last of the papers in their respective files and allowed herself a stretch. There was a tap at the door.

'Come on, Neelum, lunch time,' called Aarti.

'Good timing!' whispered Neelum.

Aarti continued, 'Hurry, you don't want to work our precious lunch hour. As it is, you are always working late.'

'I'm just tidying my desk and will be right with you.'

All the girls sat in the lunch room with their open tiffins permeating the room with the smell of curry and spices. When Neelum entered, Maria, Shanti, Aarti and Sadia were absorbed in conversation. The boys, Deepak and Shashi sat at the other end of the table, looking up now and then from eating to follow the girls' conversation.

Maria as usual did not waste any time in voicing her thoughts. 'What is happening? Geeta has told us you have resigned and Fuad has today interviewed and selected a new girl to work for him. Have you found a better job?' And before she waited for a reply, she announced to the room, 'Didn't I tell you that Fuad is so hard to work for?'

'Oh no,' said Neelum quickly, 'I don't intend to work anywhere else. I feel unwell these days, and my husband has insisted I give up work and rest at home. His salary is sufficient to make ends meet.'

'This illness is news to me,' said Aarti. 'You have rarely missed a day's work and worked late so many times.' Her voice displayed the doubt Neelum could see reflected in the others' eyes.

'I have a doctor's certificate,' Neelum snapped, 'There really are medical reasons for me to give up working. No one can be forced to work against their will and I don't have to explain my life decisions to anyone!'

Sadia took offence and said, 'Lucky you! Plenty of people have no choice when they are sponsored by a company. They either work or go back to India or Sri Lanka. And because we earn so much here and are able to save, we don't have the luxury of retiring to stay at home.'

Feeling sorry for Neelum, Aarti tried to soften the harshness of Sadia's response, 'We'll miss you, Neelum, You must keep in touch.'

# CHAPTER 18

Neelum surreptitiously watched Sheela as she worked. She adapted to the office routine within a few days with work of a professional standard. Neelum felt a twinge of envy because Sheela had been to university in India and had lived in Mumbai before coming to Bahrain. Living in the biggest city in India sharpened one's wits because everyone struggled to get a foot in the door regarding employment. They even shoved and pushed through the teeming crowds to catch a train to work.

When Sheela went to get the weekly profit and loss statement from Geeta, Fuad didn't conceal his pleasure, 'Sheela can come to the credit meeting with me and take down the minutes. She is really smart, more like a personal assistant.'

Neelum swallowed hard. The comparison to Sheela was humiliating and Fuad's praise of the new girl was designed to hurt. Even in the lunch room, Sheela made her presence felt and the others hung on her every word. Girls from Mumbai always came out on top!

A week later, after the lunch break, Sheela said, 'Look, Neelum, I know how to do the job, feel free to leave now.'

Neelum bit back a rude retort and instead said, ''I'll have to check with Fuad about that, he did ask me to stay on for a month.'

'Don't worry about Fuad. I've already spoken to him and he agrees.'

'Oh, in that case, I'll pack up my things now,' said Neelum her eyes smarting with tears. 'I'm glad I'm leaving everything in such good hands.' Neelum went around the supermarket, saying goodbye to Aarti, Maria, Shanti, Sadia and Geeta, and also to the boys Shashi, Deepak and Chandra.

'Take care, Neelum, and I hope you get well soon,' said Geeta. 'Keep in touch when you can.'

Last of all, she went to say goodbye to Fuad who was busy on the phone. She waited until he hung up.

'Your letter of reference will be ready by tomorrow. I will leave it with Sheela for you to collect. You've been a good secretary although you were deceitful to hide your mental illness from me. I would not have paid for all the training if you had told me.'

Neelum could feel her cheeks warming but more from anger than embarrassment. Typical of Fuad that he wanted to admonish and be aggrieved even on her last day.

'Here's a cheque for your final dues. You are not entitled to indemnity, because you haven't worked for three years, but I have paid you for the full month.'

After a last look around the office, Neelum went home. It being the end of November, the weather had started to cool. The season's changing, she thought. I must look forward to a new beginning. In ten days I will start a new job, a more prestigious job with better prospects. In the meantime I'll spring clean the flat and go to the tailor to have some new clothes made.

Vikram's steps could be heard as soon as he entered the building and climbed upstairs to their flat. He put down his briefcase with a sigh and sat on the sofa. 'It's good to be home. I've had such a busy day.' He stretched and twisted his head from side to side to relieve the tension in his neck and shoulders. 'How did you manage at the supermarket today? Everything went all right?'

'Oh, yes,' said Neelum with a smile as she went to fetch him a cup of tea. 'The new secretary said she has learned everything already and I don't need to be there. Fuad felt the same way. I pickup a letter of reference tomorrow and received a cheque for my dues, including annual leave.' She handed Vikram his tea, ' And he paid me till the end of the month.'

'Great!' said Vikram. 'I have some good financial news too. At my annual review today my boss gave me a raise of fifty dinars. We can deposit more money into our Australian bank account. We must give thanks to goddess Laxmi.'

Neelum nodded and sighed with pleasure.

# CHAPTER 19

**10 December 1982**

Dressed in a black pleated skirt and cream silk blouse with lace collar, Neelum walked to her new office in the Diplomatic area. She knew she looked good as she entered the building. She nodded to the security officer when she could feel his gaze follow her to the lift.

It was ten minutes past eight when she reported to Afsana's desk. The busy secretary sorted through the General Manager's mail collected from the pigeon hole in the mail room on the third floor. She looked up from the pile of envelopes and scolded Neelum.

'You must be on time for work. It is your first day and you are late.'

Abashed, Neelum stuttered, 'I'm really sorry. I was waiting for a taxi but none came so I walked. It took me half an hour. May I pop into the ladies room to freshen up? I've become hot and sweaty from walking in the sun.'

Afsana took pity on Neelum's obvious distress, 'Of course you can and then I will show you around the office and introduce you to everyone.'

Neelum dashed into the ladies room and mopped her face and forehead before applying fresh make-up. She took a few deep breaths and determined not to tell Vikram about being late. I don't need another lecture when I get home. Oh, how I hope the day gets better.

Afsana escorted Neelum around the various departments, introducing her to the staff, who greeted her in a warm and friendly manner. Soon the time came to become acquainted with the people she'd be working with in the Marketing Department. The other secretaries were Laila, whom she had already met, and Rosy, a slim tall Indian girl with full lips and light complexion. 'Hi again Neelum,' said Laila, 'you'll enjoy working here.'

Marie, a short plump Indian girl with gold hoops dangling from her earlobes, did the filing. The Account Officers arrived just before

8.30 am. They sat at desks in front of the tall glass windows while the secretaries sat at the opposite end at L-shaped desks, with their typewriters facing the wall in an area known as the "platform". Neelum sat opposite Andrew Davey and John Stevens.

The General Manager, Matthew Ward, had his office at one end of the platform, the opposite end to the office of Geoff McCarthy. A small conference room for meetings adjoined Matthew's office.

Neelum's first task was to photocopy a thick loan document. She had instructions to remove the staples before copying so every page could be clearly read. Her desk drawers bulged with stationery

– spread sheets, financial analysis sheets, client profile sheets, letterheads and telex forms.

At 11.30 am she stopped to make herself a cup of tea in the kitchen. 'Have a sandwich,' said Laila, whose large black eyes, like limpid pools, were heavily lined with kohl. 'Tomorrow bring your own because we work without a break until 2.30 pm but we can eat something if we get hungry.' She grinned as she pressed the bread into Neelum's hand. 'Have a quick bite at your desk or in the kitchen but don't be seen to waste time eating.' Neelum warmed to Laila as the girl rolled her eyes and said in a falsetto voice, 'It's not the done thing!

With steaming mugs of tea, they made their way to their desks. Laila said, 'By the way, today Rosy is duty secretary in marketing. Every secretary has a turn once a week. She will take a lunchbreak then work until 5.30pm. Your turn as duty secretary will be Wednesdays.'

'What does the duty secretary have to do ?'

Laila smiled. 'Work for all the account officers especially if there are urgent telexes to go out. Sometimes it can be hectic. Other days you won't have much to do.'

Neelum raised her eyebrows. 'Only one secretary to work for all five account officers?'

Laila grinned. 'Nothing to panic about. And you're lucky to be assigned to Andrew and John. They make their own coffee and aren't as demanding as some of the others. They only arrived from England a few months ago and are the most junior officers.'

Laila nodded in the direction of Afsana. 'Our work is nothing compared to Afsana's. She really becomes stressed, often working until 7 o'clock or even later if they are doing an important deal.'

'How is Asad Khan? Who does his work?' said Neelum.

'Oh, the Pakistani. He's an Account Officer who did his M.B.A. in the U.S. He will never get a single file from the cabinets. Always asks me or Marie to get it for him even when we are overloaded with work. Rosy works for him.' Laila lowered her voice. 'But the worst of them is Ashok Malhotra. Rosy works for him as well. He's a workaholic and always keeps her late.'

Neelum silently thanked the gods she did not work for Asad or Ashoka and said, 'Laila could you show me how to do this telex? Andrew wants it sent to New York right away.'

'Of course New York is closed but we are closed on Friday, when New York is open.' Neelum's confusion obvious, Laila quickly added, 'I'm giving you too much information at once. Don't panic. Take notes and you'll learn the ropes before long.'

# CHAPTER 20

**18 March 1983**

After a pleasant day at the end of Winter, Neelum and Vikram finished a dinner of alu paratha and lentil curry, along with jackfruit papadums, especially brought from India by one of their friends. Vikram helped himself to some rice kheer for dessert.

'Today is payday. Did you go to the bank today to make out that draft?' Neelum inquired. 'It's good your cousin helped us open anon-resident bank account. Our money will be safer there and our accounts can't be frozen especially with this war between Iran and Iraq.'

'Yes,' said Vikram, 'thank goodness Kiran told me that if we plan to migrate in a few years, a bank account will be a good idea.' He eased his chair from the table. 'And I have done as we decided. I took the thousand dinars saved and went to the bank and made a draft for three thousand dollars and sent it with a letter to Kiran to deposit in our account with the ANZ Bank.'

Neelum nodded, 'It's really wise to use my salary for our living expenses and to bank yours.'

Vikram's smile had a bitter twist. 'Yes, but the rent eats up a quarter of your salary. These landlords are sucking our blood by the hefty rents they charge. This flat is basic accommodation not fancy like the whites. They have free furnished villas with all utilities paid!'

'I wouldn't like to live like them though,' said Neelum, 'in compounds with high walls and security at the gates. We'd feel so hemmed in.' She started to clear the table. 'At least there is no income tax in Bahrain, a great blessing for us.'

'Otherwise it wouldn't be worth our while to come here,' said Vikram. 'They have to have something to attract guest workers to the country.'

Neelum peeled an orange and put the skin on her plate. 'I had to spend some of my salary on make-up and clothes. All the girls in the bank wear good clothes from the stores. I have to do the same.'

'You know something, Neeli? It's like we won a lottery, coming to Bahrain, paid almost eight times what we would be paid in India. Of course, being born into the middle class is a plus too because India teems with poor illiterate people who have no future!'

'And you won a lottery by marrying me,' teased Neelum.

'Well let's have an early night, ' responded Vikram mischievously, 'and we'll see who has won the lottery.'

The next day at work, Afsana approached Neelum's desk, 'Can you finish typing these drafts?' She threw a bundle of papers onto the desk, already strewn with work.

'Sure, I'll do them as soon as I can,' Neelum replied, thinking how bossy Afsana could be, expecting others to help her out whenever she demanded. But Neelum would never refuse because Afsana would make a bad enemy.

The General Manager, Matthew Ward, was on R & R leave for a week. Although the marketing officers kept Afsana busy, giving her work she normally did not do, she had decided to make the most of the absence of her boss by leaving early every day after dumping work on Neelum.

'Make sure the work is finished before you go home and leave it on Asad's desk,' said Afsana loftily. 'I have to take my son to the doctor.'

It was well past closing time when Neelum, filled with resentment, left the bank. She could not always claim overtime because they worked a 38-hour week with overtime only paid after 40 hours. When she went home and complained to Vikram about Afsana's bossiness, he said, 'Don't worry, we'll only be here for a few years. Think about the money you are earning and be patient.'

Vikram's standard response irritated Neelum and so she did not share another gnawing problem. A word processor on the third floor, used by all the secretaries whenever the word processor on the fourth floor was occupied, had become a danger zone because of its closeness to the Personnel Manager's office.

At first Neelum had been unaware of Hasan Abdul's attention. He passed her on the way to his office and whistled a Hindi film song while she typed on the word processor. Then he took to complimenting her appearance. 'That's a nice dress,' he said. 'The colour suits you.' The comments seemed harmless until he started accosting her on the stairs between the two floors. 'How about dinner and drinks tonight?'

Neelum would hurry up the stairs without answering. This happened several times. I hope he stops noticing me, she thought. What will he do next? Why do things like this happen to me? Have I done something wrong?

She didn't have time to dwell on these incidents when inundated with work, however one day when she passed him on the stairs, he declared, 'Don't you think you should be nice to me?'

Neelum replied, 'You know I am married.'

'What does that matter? You do want to continue working here, don't you? Receiving a fine salary...think about it.'

Neelum froze with fright as she thought about her work permit.

# CHAPTER 21

It was Friday and market day for Neelum and Vikram so they both got up as soon as sunlight filtered through the crack in the window blind. The night had given way to a faint light which slowly spread streaks of orange and red in the sky as the rising sun came up over the horizon.

'Hurry up, Neelum, we can catch a pick-up near the bus stop to take us to Central Market. There's a few of them there now,' said Vikram, peering out on the busy street from the balcony of their flat.

'I'm almost ready,' said Neelum, running a comb through her hair. She was wearing a baggy blue shalwar kameez, and a long blue and white scarf around her neck. Western clothes were out of place at the market. Her body ached to sleep more but it was better to go early to Central Market.

'If it wasn't for the fresh produce and low prices, I wouldn't bother to get up so early,' she grumbled. 'To catch a mini pick-up near the Royal Hotel we haven't time even for breakfast.'

Vikram picked up two shopping bags, impatience showing in his actions and voice, 'We can have some of that lovely freshly brewed chai they serve in the market, with fresh bread and cholay. Now hurry.'

Clutching their bags, they bounded down the steps and clambered on board the mini-van with six other passengers crammed inside. They paid their hundred fils each to the driver. One tenth of a dinar, the cheapest journey anyone could make. The traffic slowed to crawl. It seemed everyone had the market as their destination!

'Where shall we go first, to the fish or meat market?' said Neelum as they alighted from the mini-van. The many buildings for meat, fish, poultry, vegetables and fruit spread in front of them.

'Your mother would swoon if she knew that we now eat meat,' said Neelum, 'but what strength can there be in just eating lentils and vegetables all the time? Lots of Hindus now eat meat, especially those who live in foreign countries. Let's select a chicken, then they will have it prepared for us.' Neelum felt a sense of guilt because unknown to Vikram she had eaten meat before. The tantalizing memory of Aamir and herself eating chicken tikkas at a restaurant in Dubai came to her and her heart fluttered. She quickened her steps to follow Vikram who had strode ahead through the maze of the market to the live chicken stall.

The plump birds strutted around unaware of their fate. 'That one,' said Vikram, pointing to a speckled brown chicken. 'Can you have it ready in twenty minutes? We have other shopping to do.'

'Yes, Sir, it will be ready, but money first,' said the Indian lad with outstretched palm. He looked about sixteen. He caught the doomed chicken efficiently and proceeded to slit its throat. Queasiness made Neelum dizzy and she turned away.

At the fish market, the day's fresh catch on display showed how much the sea was part of their lives. Whichever way you traveled in the small island of Bahrain you came to the sea but the strong smell from the fish had Neelum wrinkling her nose. They stopped at a stall selling huge prawns. 'A dinar a kilo, caught just this morning,' tempted the owner. They bought two kilos. Neelum would shell and cook one kilo when she got home and put the other in the freezer.

'Fresh hammour, sir, would you like some?' said the fish owner. 'Or you can have mackerel, if you like. Plenty here, we sell at seven hundred fils a kilo. Cheaper than what comes from India in the cold store. And this is fresh.'

'Ah, but the taste is different,' said Neelum, 'nothing like Indian mackerel. I think we'll have hammour, but a small one.'

'Good choice, madam, very famous is hammour.'

They carried their purchases between them to the vegetable market. Vegetable sellers spruiked their wares: 'Fresh tomatoes, coriander, beans and green chillies!'

Neelum found a stall where she liked the look of the vegetables and recited her order. 'Half a kilo of tomatoes, a kilo of eggplants, half a kilo of carrots, half a cauliflower, one kilo of potatoes, two bunches of coriander, and one of green chillies.'

'Sorry, Madam, you must buy one box of eggplants and one box of tomatoes,' insisted the vegetable seller. 'We don't sell just one kilo of each.'

'I don't want to cook the same vegetable all week and it won't last too long in the fridge before it is spoiled.'

The vegetable seller glared at Neelum before his eyes sought Vikram's. His tone of voice changed as if the male of the household would understand and be more agreeable. 'If you want just one kilo of different vegetables, you will have to pay more. Much cheaper if you buy a box.'

Vikram sighed but did not disappoint him. 'We'll pay more, just give my wife what she wants.

'Daylight robbery, if you ask me,' he whispered to Neelum as they left.

'I suppose it's because everything is imported with nothing grown here.'

'Maybe,' said Vikram, 'Let's just buy some bananas and oranges and pick up the chicken. They must have cleaned it by now.'

Neelum had an idea. 'Would you like me to prepare chicken tikkas for lunch, with raita? We can get some fresh naan from the tandoor shop.'

Vikram smiled. 'Yum, that sounds good for lunch but let's go to the tea stand first. We haven't had breakfast and I'm hungry.'

Carrying their heavy bags they made their way to the tea shop and soon relaxed with glasses of steaming chai and plates of naan and spicy chickpeas.

In the mini-van home, they checked their money. 'We've got food for a week at least, and we only spent twelve dinars,' said Neelum. 'If we'd shopped at the supermarket or cold store it would have cost us double.'

'Worth missing out on sleep for?' Vikram teased.

When they arrived home Vikram flopped on the sofa. 'Let's just relax and have a late lunch. I'm quite full after that breakfast. I'll go to the video store in a minute and pick up one of the classic Hindi films. You said the girls at work loved Mother India.'

Neelum suddenly wished it was Aamir and not Vikram relaxing on the couch. Aamir loved the old classic Indian films and they were both fans of Nargis and Sunil Dutt. Where was Aamir right now? People said when marriages were arranged, people fell in love after they were married, but that hadn't happened to her. She still thought of Aamir, although two years had passed since they were together. She had a duty to Vikram, her husband but her heart wasn't his. Was it her fault? Was she a bad person? Was it because he had been chosen for her?

To hide her wayward emotions, she turned away from Vikram and said, 'I have heaps of washing to do, my work clothes and yours, and I have to dust this place because if I don't dust every week, it looks like there's been a dust storm. After that I'll start cooking the chicken tikkas for lunch then shell the prawns for dinner. You watch Mother India because I have too much to do.'

Vikram did not hear her. He was fast asleep on the sofa.

# CHAPTER 22

**1984**

The months passed in a blur of work, home and Fridays off when Neelum attended to cleaning, cooking, laundry, and then work and home again. Now it was January 3rd and the New Year brought hope to everyone. It started off with a bang as the office held their annual party in the Sheraton hotel.

Neelum and Vikram walked into the dimly lit ballroom of the gaily decorated Sheraton buzzing with a festive atmosphere left over from Christmas and New Year's Eve. The live band was in full swing. The compelling beat of 'I just want to say I love you' rose in a glorious cacophony of sound. Neelum and Vikram seated themselves at the corner table with the other secretaries and their companions.

Everyone wore formal evening dress but heads turned when Neelum walked in with Vikram. Her pale pink chiffon dress glittered with sequins to match her silver jewellery, shoes and bag. With her hair twisted into a chignon she looked beautiful and stunning.

Vikram went to the bar for a whiskey with soda and a glass of orange juice for Neelum. They sat facing the stage and could see most of the action. The general manager and his wife sat in front near the dance floor, along with other senior executives and their wives. Further away sat the account officers and section heads. Glasses clinked and the buzz of conversation radiated from the room. People began dancing. After having a few dances with partners, to be courteous some of the officers in Marketing approached the girls at Neelum's table.

Andrew Davey asked Neelum to dance. She blushed because she did not know how to dance. She had practiced a few steps at home with Vikram so they wouldn't feel socially inept but she did not feel confident at all. Yet she found herself swaying to the music as if she had danced all her life. The next couple of dances she had with Vikram before everyone started to mingle around the tables, making conversation, relaxed and enjoying themselves, free from the daily protocol of the office.

When they returned to their table, Neelum cringed when she saw Hasan Abdul making his way towards their table and then he was asking her to dance. It would have been rude to refuse, so she danced one dance with him. Admiration shone from his eyes.

'You always look beautiful in the office but today you look simply dazzling.'

Neelum did not reply but before the music started for the next dance, she said, 'I'm feeling a bit dizzy. I'm not used to dancing, so I think I'll sit down now.' Back at the table, Vikram did not notice her discomfort. He was too busy helping himself to liquor at the bar.

Soon the announcement of dinner saved Neelum from making excuses not to dance. People licked their lips with delight at the display of delectable dishes to tempt every palate – lamb biryani, stuffed roast lamb, shami kebabs, seekh kebabs, beef vindaloo, roast chicken, chicken karahi, baked hammour, garlic prawns, and vegetables like okra, green beans, pumpkin, eggplant, bitter gourd and a vast array of salads.

After the main feast everyone did justice to more than a dozen mouth-watering desserts: black forest cake, cheese cake, pastries, fruit salads, puddings, soufflés, gulab jamuns, mango kulfi and milky rice kheer with crushed almonds.

The atmosphere of gaiety carried on into the night with some of the men clearly inebriated. The "chicken dance" was performed as well as the Indian dance of Bombay meri hai, or "Bombay is ours" because no festive gathering for Indians was ever complete without this number. Hasan Abdul picked up the mike and sang a Hindi love song, looking at Neelum's table from time to time. Neelum squirmed in her seat and moved closer to Vikram.

Gifts were given to each member of the staff by the general manager. An expensive bottle of Opium perfume for the ladies and, for the men, a Seiko wrist watch. Matthew gave a speech and said, 'Thank you staff for all your hard work and dedication, which has resulted in good business over the last year. So good that I am sanctioning a bonus for everyone equivalent to a month's salary.' The cheers and clapping almost drowned out his closing remarks, 'Please continue with the hard work, and I wish each and everyone of you all the very best in the New Year.' The party wound upas the clock struck 3 am while the band played Frank Sinatra's "My Way".

The next day being Friday meant everyone could sleep in. Neelum couldn't remember when she had had such a lovely time but she wished Hasan Abdul had not been there.

# CHAPTER 23

Clutching a mug of coffee Neelum walked to her desk. Passing Rosy, she couldn't help noticing the sparkling gold necklace around the secretary's neck and matching earrings dangling from her lobes.

'Oh, Rosy, you're wearing the most lovely necklace and earrings,' said Neelum with a twinge of envy. 'Are those real diamonds and rubies?'

'Of course! I've got heaps of gold chains, necklaces, earrings and bangles. Most of them are in a bank deposit box in Bombay but I've got some in Bahrain to wear.'

'They must cost a fortune!' gasped Neelum.

'I've accumulated them over the years. Every few months I buy a piece or two that takes my fancy. I deal with my own special jeweller in the gold souk.'

When the marketing officers were in a meeting, and bossy boots Afsana busy in the computer room, Neelum and Laila stopped to chat for a few minutes. Neelum told Laila about Rosy's stash of jewellery. 'I wonder why she buys eighteen carat jewellery instead of the twenty two carat Indians usually buy. It's less value. But where does she find the money on a secretary's salary? She must be very thrifty.'

A sly look settled on Laila's face. 'You don't really know the whole story, do you?'

'What do you mean?' said Neelum.

'Every month a gift of jewellery comes to the bank for Rosy delivered by courier. It's from a very rich businessman. A rich old man paying for her services.'

Neelum's eyes widened. 'Services? You don't mean...' she whispered.

'That's exactly what I mean. A lot of expatriate girls working in Bahrain supplement their income by going around with rich older men.'

'But Rosy's married!'

'So are the rich old men,' said Laila. 'But they are bored and quite fancy other women. They give them money, jewellery and even cars, in return for their pleasure.'

'But that's prostitution!'

Laila lowered her voice. 'They don't see it that way. It's the quickest way to buy a house back home in India, the Philippines or London. An opportunity of a life time for these girls to earn heaps of money.'

Neelum looked scandalized. 'I could never do that. I would earn money by working hard or even doing two jobs.'

Laila sighed. 'Neither would I. We have to be unsoiled before and after marriage. That is our way. But there are all types in this world, you know. And promise not to tell anyone I told you this. I could get into trouble.'

'I'd never dream of telling anyone. I can hardly believe it myself. Imagine having a good bank job and resorting to, to... prostitution to boost your income.'

'Now, Neelum, let's forget this conversation; it doesn't concern us anyway.'

Intrigued, Neelum asked, 'Does anyone else in the bank do this? I would love to know.'

'I'm not sure,' said Laila, 'You just have to be young and have a pretty face I suppose. By the way, how old are you? You seem naive to me.'

'I turned twenty one last month.'

'That's young. Most of us are in our thirties.'

Neelum bristled, 'I may not have much experience of life but I am married and have two years experience working as a secretary.'

Laila tapped her arm. 'You're still very young.' She glanced at her watch, 'Let's go back to our desks now. We've been chatting for fifteen minutes, and soon one of the officers will come to the kitchen looking for us. We'll talk more some other time.'

# CHAPTER 24

**20 June 1983**

The clock had just struck nine and Neelum stood photocopying and stapling a credit report for Andrew. Then she returned to her desk, typed a telex to New York marked urgent by John Stevens and went to the telex room downstairs to have it sent off. Back on the fourth floor, she encountered a flustered Afsana clutching a tea towel and with hair in a mess.

'Ah, there you are, Neelum, I've been looking all over for you. Come and help me with the teas and coffees.' She beckoned Neelum into the kitchen. 'There's a management meeting in the conference room. Please fetch the fine china cups from the store room. Here's the key. We only use them for special occasions so bring the fancy tray from there as well.'

Neelum took the key, 'Why do we have to keep everything in the store room?'

'Because staff will use them and not return them to the kitchen cupboard and we'll lose track of them. They're expensive china cups, you know.' Neelum brought the cups and saucers piled on the tray. Afsana said, 'I've written down how everyone takes their tea and coffee. I'll make Matthew's coffee, he likes it strong and black. There are ten at the meeting.'

Each of them carried in a tray, quite a balancing act tottering on high heels from kitchen to the conference room. They handed out cups to the officers, who were working out strategies to maximise offshore business from Saudi Arabia and Kuwait. They were planning two extra business trips to the region every month by the account officers.

At the head of the table Matthew Ward was deep in conversation with the account officer for Jeddah and Riyadh, Andrew Davey.

Having completed their task, Afsana and Neelum went back to their desks to find the girls in Marketing visibly relaxed as usual because the officers were in a meeting. When the cat's away, the mice do play, thought Neelum.

Afsana rang her maid. 'Mary, put Najaf to bed after she has had her milk. Then cook the chicken curry, but not the chappatis. They are better cooked as we eat so you can do them when I come home.'

Rosy chatted to her husband George who worked for a travel agency. 'Don't forget to pick up the children from school at three o'clock. And make sure the maid gives them their food when they get home. I've told her time and again not to cook spicy food for the children, but does she listen? I have to be duty secretary today and will be working late.'

Only sweet amiable Laila was in a terrible mood. 'There must be a thief in the office,' she grumbled to Neelum so everyone could hear. 'I had a hundred dinars in my bag this morning and now it is missing. I reported the theft to the Operations Manager. I always keep my bag in the bottom drawer of my desk, so I hope they find the thief.'

'How awful!' said Neelum. 'Nobody's bag is safe. We will have to be very careful until the person responsible is caught.' She looked around the office in disbelief. 'Who could it possibly be?'

The anger she felt made Laila's voice harsh, 'I haven't a clue but if he or she is caught, the Operations Manager will dismiss them on the spot.' Laila paused and sipped her coffee, 'Oh, by the way, Neelum, when you were helping Afsana at the meeting, a guy by the name of Aamir called. I told him you were busy and he said he would call you later.'

Neelum looked away so that Laila would not see the deep blush on her face. Dear Aamir had not forgotten her. How had he found out where she worked? With all her heart she longed to see him. Beside him, Vikram paled into insignificance. Aamir had always considered her feelings, unlike Vikram. The busyness of life, coping with Kamala and adjusting to work, filled the hours or she would have pined for Aamir every day of her married life. Two years had passed since she had married Vikram. She assumed she'd forget Amir because he was an impossible dream but now the thought of speaking to him and hearing his voice made her spine tingle. I must be careful, because in spite of these modern surroundings, people are conservative. What a scandal if they could read my mind! Laila and the other girls must have no inkling of my connection to Aamir.

# CHAPTER 25

**7 July 1983**

Neelum compiled the travel expense statement for John Stevens, the account officer for Alkhobar and Dhahran in Saudi Arabia. 'Do you like going there?' she asked him.

'It's great for business,' he said. 'And being the most westernized part of the country we deal mainly with Aramco, the Arabian American Oil Company, which has a lot of Americans and other foreigners working there.'

Neelum frowned. The figures did not add up. She had to breakdown the hotel expenses on a daily basis and would have to go through the whole statement again to find the discrepancy. She would double check the airline ticket and hotel receipts as well as cash expenses for taxis and meals outside the hotel. The phone rang. She picked it up.

'Hello, is that Neeli?' Her heart beat faster as Aamir's familiar voice called her by the nickname he always used. She whispered out of earshot of Laila.

'Yes, but how did you get my phone number? How did you know I'm working here?'

'Oh that was easy. Your old neighbour Shirley gave me the number. Now why did you stop ringing me? After you went to Bahrain, you only rang twice.'

'Aamir, you know I did that at great risk because I feared my husband and mother-in-law. I never had another opportunity but I've never stopped thinking of you.' Neelum doodled with her pen so anyone watching would think she was taking notes. 'Where are you phoning from?'

'Bahrain. I'm not far from you. I've a job with the Arab National Bank, right here in the Diplomatic Area, a few buildings away from yours. We could meet after work.'

John Stevens approached and Neelum said hurriedly, 'I'm very busy with a lot of work to finish and my boss is heading this way now. I'll talk to you later.' She hung up.

'I see you're doing my expense account,' said John. 'I have some urgent dictation for you after you're done.'

Neelum said, 'I'm five dinars short and having trouble finding the discrepancy.'

'Don't worry about such a small amount. Come now for dictation.' While Neelum rummaged in her drawer for her shorthand notebook and pencil, Laila whispered, 'Who was that on the phone?'

Neelum answered quickly, 'Just my cousin. He's arrived from Dubai and is working in a bank in the Diplomatic Area.' 'How nice for you,' said Laila, 'You could meet up with him sometimes.' 'Perhaps,' Neelum said before hurrying to John's desk and preventing Laila from probing further.

An hour later, Neelum worked on an A-3 statement which Andrew Davey had given her to type. Laila said, 'Have you heard the latest news?'

'Tell me,' said Neelum, 'I'm all ears and can spare a few minutes.'

'You know Samina Akbar, who worked in the Loans department on the third floor ? It seems she will be working in Marketing from now on.'

'That Pakistani girl? She looks like a model or beauty queen, doesn't she? How come she's getting a transfer to our department? And what will her position be? I heard she hates typing, shorthand and filing and yet that's the work we do!'

'She's miss high and mighty all right. But she's a very pretty 22year old who is going to be trained as an account officer in Marketing.'

'If she's only a clerk at the moment, how come she's getting this promotion?'

Laila assumed a position reminiscent of the day she filled Neelum in about Rosy. 'I was just coming to that. Do you remember those auditors who came from England a few months ago? Well, she got on real well with the one called Steve Woods and he is now coming back to Bahrain on a transfer and has requested her to be in the Marketing department.'

Neelum leaned towards Laila like a conspirator. 'Is that so? Well I heard the marriage her parents arranged for her has been dissolved because she found her husband impossible to live with - he didn't want her to work, insisted she wear only Pakistani clothes and keep her head covered.'

Laila pursed her lips as if to say, how terrible.

Neelum asked, 'Is this Steve Woods single?'

'Yes,' said Laila with a knowing smile, 'it seems we have a budding romance in the office.'

Neelum nodded. 'It will be interesting to watch what develops. Her family is conservative. I remember she used to wear trousers to the office when she started last year but now she wears dresses.'

Laila mulled over this before saying, 'But she was born in Bahrain. Her father has a secure job in the government and they have a nice house.'

'She could take citizenship if she wanted to, I suppose,' Neelum said with envy.

Laila shook her head. 'It's not that easy even if you are born here but that doesn't stop her acting as if she is superior. I don't like how stuck up Samina behaves and how she keeps herself remote from the other girls.'

'Well she'll be more remote if this romance takes off,' said Neelum with a sigh. 'I only hope we don't have to do her typing when she starts or we'll all be as stressed as Afsana.'

# CHAPTER 26

On Thursday morning Neelum's phone rang again and she picked it up before the second ring, managing to speak to Aamir for a few minutes. She turned to type out a telex and found Laila looking at her with questioning eyes.

That's the fourth time your cousin Aamir has phoned you today,' said Laila. 'You should tell him we are not allowed to make personal phone calls in work time.'

'What can I do?' said Neelum defensively. 'He's young and has no family here, except for me.' 'Tell him to ring or visit you at home because if Afsana notices you are getting too many personal calls there will be trouble.' 'Okay Laila, I'll meet him at the weekend and make sure there are only one or two phone calls a week.'

They both fell silent when Samina appeared in front of Neelum's desk. 'I have some urgent telexes to type as well as some memos. Could you finish them before you go home today? '

'Sure,' said Neelum as Samina placed the work on her desk.

When Samina returned to her work station, Laila giggled. 'Miss high and mighty seems to like Marketing, especially when she can give her work to you.'

'I suppose because I'm the junior secretary,' Neelum said, sounding huffy. 'Her handwriting is atrocious, it's so hard to decipher.' Neelum peered at the papers before asking Laila, 'Have you heard anything more about Steve Woods?'

'I heard he's arriving from London next week.'

'Really?' said Neelum before getting up from her desk. 'We'll have to finish this conversation later because I'm going to the computer room to finish typing some drafts for Andrew. He's due to go on vacation and wants to finish as much work as possible.' Neelum gathered her files together. 'And it's so much nicer using the computer. I can just delete and insert after he has finished working on the draft.'

Laila nodded. 'Yes, the computer is a blessing and I read that soon we will have one in our home! Well, there is a list of things I'd like before something that reminds me of work.' She resumed typing at a punishing pace.

Later when things had quietened in the office Neelum and Laila

munched a sandwich in the kitchen. 'Have you heard?' said Laila.

'What?'

'The Bank is not doing so well these days because a lot of companies in Kuwait and Saudi are defaulting on their loans. They can't be forced to pay because they are not subject to Bahraini law.' Neelum stared at Laila in disbelief as her friend continued. 'Haven't you noticed it's not as hectic as it used to be?'

Neelum frowned. 'I have wondered why we don't seem to be rushed off our feet.'

Laila spoke with authority. 'We aren't doing any new deals either. Rumours are there will be retrenchments and whoever remains will have a bigger workload.'

Neelum gasped. 'That's terrible. They won't retrench the secretaries will they? I'm the most junior, so I could be first in line.' 'I think you are safe because Afsana said your bosses speak

highly of your work. Of course none of us can be certain.'

Neelum struggled to hold back the tears burning her eyes. 'This news worries me because we cannot save on just Vikram's salary with our high rent.' She ran her fingers through her hair nervously. 'And if we can't save we might as well not stay here.'

'What, go back to India?'

'Oh no! We'd apply to another country like Australia. I believe they are taking immigrants these days.'

Laila pouted. 'I am Bahraini. This is my country and my home. I cannot go anywhere else.'

'I doubt Bahrainis will be laid off. It will be expatriates.'

Laila suddenly looked around then lowered her voice. 'Have you heard the latest scandal?'

Neelum shook her head wondering what could be more scandalous than retrenchments. She stared in wonderment at Laila's unending supply of gossip.

'Afsana told me Hasan Abdul, the Personnel Manager, has been sacked by Matthew Ward.'

'Why? What did he do?'

'He was involved in a racket of procuring high class call girls into Bahrain on the bank's sponsorship. Someone high up in the labour department phoned Matthew and asked him for an explanation. Matthew had absolutely no idea and gave Hasan Abdul his marching orders immediately.'

Neelum felt an overwhelming sense of relief but did not confide in Laila how she feared Hasan's advances. 'I never really liked him,' her only comment.

'Neither did I,' said Laila. 'He must have made a lot of money sponsoring the call girls from other countries and how shocking to use the bank to do such a thing.'

# CHAPTER 27

Afsana, usually so impeccably groomed, appeared between Laila and Neelum's desk. But this time, she had strands of hair loose from her coiffure and a coffee stain on her silk blouse. 'Girls, please come into the conference room, I have to talk to you.'

The general manager was absent on a business trip so the Marketing secretaries assembled in the conference room one by one to talk in private without the whole office listening.

Afsana came to the point straightaway, 'You all know business has been slack for almost a year. Companies defaulting on loans have made the bank run at a loss these past six months. Consequently, overheads must be reduced and...' she paused and stumbled as if finding the next words difficult to say, 'staff will be made redundant.' Multiple eyes stared at Afsana, the air charged with fear.

Rosy broke the uncomfortable silence, 'Are any of us going to be retrenched?'

'None of the Marketing secretaries for the time being, but I want you all to be busy at whatever work you are given. Do not spend time on the phone or chatting in the kitchen. You must not give any of the bosses a reason for complaint. Now go back to your desks, determined to work the best you can so you have a future.'

Neelum went to the restroom and saw someone's shoulders heaving with sobs near the wash basin. 'Is that you, Marie?' she said, in dismay. 'What's happened? Why are you crying? '

The filing clerk for the Marketing department sniffed and steadied herself against the basin. 'What am I going to do, Neelum? I have a letter from the Personnel department telling me I am redundant. I must pack my things and leave today. I will be paid my dues by cheque on the way out.'

'Oh Marie. I'm sorry it had to be you. It could happen to any of us. But you will get the indemnity. You've worked here for the past ten years ever since the Bank opened?'

'I'll get indemnity and leave entitlements because I have not been on leave this year. I'll also get a month's salary in lieu of notice. But I want to keep my job!' she wailed.

'It should add up to a good amount,' said Neelum more confidently than she felt, 'and you should soon find another job.'

Marie looked defeated. 'Where? This is my dream job. I can't take shorthand, I don't know how to type well, or use the computer. Nowadays there are no jobs specifically for filing because secretaries are expected to do it along with their other duties.'

Pity welled in Neelum's chest for her distressed colleague. 'What will you do?'

'My husband has a clerical job with a local firm but we cannot live on his salary. I have two children. We will be packing up and going back to India.' This announcement brought another flood of tears before Marie continued. 'We managed to live frugally and bought a house in Kerala, and there is some money in the bank so we will live on the interest. My husband may try to get a job in Dubai when we return to India.'

'I'm sure something will work out for you,' said Neelum.

'But I was so happy here and they paid me well. I thought I'd be here for a good many years.'

Neelum didn't know what else to say, 'We will miss you... we don't know when it will be our turn.'

At the end of the day, Marie packed her personal belongings from her desk drawer and went around to each of the girls to say goodbye. Neelum and Marie left the office together and went down in the lift. At the double glass doors of the lobby, Neelum gave her a hug as Marie wiped away more tears. 'Ten years of my life have been spent here. What will happen to me now?'

'Life always offers another chance,' Neelum whispered as she squeezed Marie's shoulder. 'It's called tomorrow.'

# CHAPTER 28

On Saturday morning, Neelum went to the telex room and found Shanti, who was in charge of telexes and the mail, crying. Mira, who handled the switchboard, also wiped tears from her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief.

'What's happened?' gasped Neelum fearful there had been a death. But the girls did not speak. Neelum fled upstairs to the fourth floor to find Laila, sure she would shed some light on the matter. On her way to the kitchen in search of Laila, she passed the Bills and L/C department peopled by glum faces. It was the same in the Operations Department.

Breathless from her sprint up the stairs, Neelum found Laila in the kitchen making coffee for her boss Geoff McCarthy. 'Why are people crying and looking as if someone died?'

'Let's go into the ladies room,' whispered Laila guiding Neelum from the kitchen. 'About twenty of the staff have been given redundancy letters. Half of them are Bahrainis. They must leave today and will be given a cheque just before closing time.'

'But who will do the telexes? Shanti was excellent,' said Neelum.

Laila was a mine of information, 'We won't be sending telexes now. The new fax machine has taken over that job. Each secretary will send her own faxes. Telexes have been superseded.'

'And the switchboard? Will Mariam be able to manage on her own?'

'Of course, and she is Bahraini. The emphasis is on keeping as much of the local staff as possible.'

'Yet with so many Bahrainis retrenched there will be a hue and cry. What will they do?'

'The locals will be looked after until they find jobs. The government has a social security scheme for Bahrainis but not for foreign expatriates. Save your sympathy for workers like yourself.'

Neelum leaned back against the sink and shook her head. 'I have been told I will be doing the filing Marie used to do and must concentrate on that instead of my secretarial duties.'

'But at least you have a job.'

Neelum sighed. 'Yes, the Bank is doing badly and I am grateful to still be here.'

'I have a feeling that we won't be able to go back to the good old days of roaring business,' said Laila. 'Afsana hinted there maybe more retrenchments in six months.'

'You're lucky, Laila, your husband is from a Sheikh family and you only work for pocket money but Vikram and I must start making plans for an uncertain future. We have Indian passports but definitely don't want to go back there if I lose my job.'

'I thought you would apply for permanent residency in Australia.'

'If the Australian embassy in Dubai is taking applications we will apply right away. Vikram can apply as an accountant and I will apply as a secretary.'

Laila's concern was sincere, 'Good luck to you but keep all of this a secret. The Bank will keep you as long as you are of use. When you are no longer required you'll get your marching orders.'

Neelum murmured, 'I know, no one is indispensable.'

'By the way,' said Laila, 'what are the salaries like in Australia?'

'Vikram's brother lives in Melbourne where we'll be going. The salaries seem comparable to the Gulf but we would pay income tax in Australia.'

'Oh,' said Laila, 'and it's so far from the rest of the world.'

Neelum smiled. 'That's why it's called 'Down Under'. It's far from India too but I've heard they have lovely weather for most of the year. Not constantly hot like here.'

'I've heard that too. Now, let's get back to work. I still haven't made that coffee for my boss. I'll try and find out more and we can talk later.'

Neelum felt bogged down by the filing. She glared with hatred at the eight filing cabinets. They had four drawers each and a space on top for keeping folders for housing documents and financial statements. She glanced up and saw Laila standing nearby.

'Marie filed so haphazardly,' Neelum complained, 'and so many documents have been left, I'm going crazy sorting everything out. Matthew asks for different files and documents and some are in the papers Marie dumped in the filing trays.'

Laila smiled and said, 'Afsana says Matthew is quite pleased with the work you are doing. And all the account officers are saying you are doing a much better job than Marie.'

Neelum looked pleased. 'Well, I've been working late to get it all up to date. The best thing is that Asad Khan, John and Andrew have all asked me to put the closed files into cardboard boxes and send them down to the store room in the basement because they clutter up the cabinets.'

Laila did not leave. She remained, watching. Neelum felt uneasy. 'Is there something else?' she asked.

'What I really wanted to know,' said Laila with a sly look, 'is Aamir really your cousin because he phones every day, several times a day, and to me that is the behavior of a boyfriend!'

Neelum flushed with guilt. Under the intense gaze of Laila she confessed. 'He is a good friend I knew in Dubai before I married. Our relationship is perfectly innocent.' She saw a frown darken Laila's face and whispered urgently, 'Please don't tell anybody or think badly of me.'

Laila looked thoughtful then with reluctance said, 'I won't, but be careful. It will be a scandal if people find out because they are so conservative.'

# CHAPTER 29

**22 July 1983**

Neelum and Aamir sat in the secluded family section of the Firdausi restaurant, on the perimeter of the Diplomatic Area. Neelum recalled the last time she ate there with Fuad and Geeta. It had been at Iftar to break the Ramadan fast and a duty at Fuad's insistence, but tonight felt wonderful and exciting because she sat beside Aamir. She was thrilled to know he had followed her to Bahrain and found a job in a bank - all for her.

Along with the excitement came a twinge of fear. If Vikram found out, he might kill her. She had phoned him and said she was working late. As always she surprised herself how easily the lie rolled off her tongue.

Aamir had matured over the last few years and looked more handsome than Neelum remembered. His neat navy blue suit was highlighted by a grey and mauve tie. Six feet tall and towering over Neelum he wore his hair in a fashionable style. Aamir seemed street-smart whereas Neelum retained an innocent naivety in spite of her marriage and work.

'Really, Aamir, you shouldn't have come to Bahrain. You've put both of us in danger. Someone might see us here. It is not that far from work.'

Aamir grinned like a schoolboy. 'But this is the family section.' He took her hand and teased, 'no one will think of looking for illicit lovers here.'

'Sh, not so loud,' chastised Neelum. 'I'm scared. I've never done something like this before, and I feel uncomfortable deceiving Vikram.' She glanced at a large ornate clock on the wall. 'I must go home to cook dinner soon.'

Aamir noticed she had not withdrawn her hand. He put his other hand on her arm, easing her closer to him. He looked at her with serious eyes, all teasing gone, and made an appeal for her to stay. 'Just order something, a snack maybe, or a cold drink. I need to be with you.'

Neelum relented. 'A falooda for me,' she said to the waiter.

'Make that two,' said Aamir.

Sipping the milky rose drink with ice-cream and vermicelli strands, Neelum sighed. 'It's so hot here, I'll be glad to go to Australia after all.'

'Australia? Why didn't you tell me?' Aamir sat upright with a jolt and stared at Neelum in shock.

'Oh, there's no date, Vikram has just put in our papers. It will take a year to be processed and we still have to go for an interview and obtain a police clearance. Nothing will proceed without the interview in Dubai.'

'But surely you don't want to go now I am here?' said Aamir. 'Why leave Bahrain?'

Neelum looked away from the astonishment and pain in Aamir's eyes, and a shiver coursed down her spine as she realized she would have to make a decision about what man she wanted to be with. There would be life-changing consequences no matter what decision she made.

'The Bank is not doing well, there's been retrenchments. It might be my turn next. We cannot save for the future on Vikram's salary because of the high rents here.' Neelum's voice trailed away as she added, 'and Vikram has a cousin in Australia who has been helpful with advice.'

Aamir snapped, 'What about me? Do I matter at all?'

Neelum paled, she had never seen him so angry.

Aamir said, 'We could get married. Let Vikram go to Australia. You stay here with me.'

Having her innermost dream and years of fantasizing spoken aloud should have made Neelum sing with joy. Instead it made her sad. 'Oh, Aamir, you know there can never be a future for us. I'm married to Vikram. My family would disown me and I would be ostracized by all the Indians for deserting Vikram and marrying a Muslim.'

Aamir shook his head in disbelief. 'You've changed, Neeli. Remember the promises we made to each other in Dubai? Don't tell me your feelings have changed.'

Neelum tried to sound convincing. 'We were young, little more than teenagers. I've realized the sensible and only thing to do is be true to the person I married.'

Aamir touched her face tenderly. 'And what about love Neeli? You don't love this man you were forced to marry. You love me. Look at me, and say you don't.'

Neelum turned her face away as her eyes filled with tears. 'Oh, Aamir what can we do? There is no future for us.'

Aamir pulled Neelum closer and held her face between his hands. He kissed away the tears then gently kissed her lips. 'Trust me. I'll think of something. I am here now, just as I promised. We'll be married one day, no one can stop us. It will work out, you'll see.'

Neelum pressed her cheek against Aamir's, ran her hand through the hair she remembered so well. 'I've missed you so much Aamir,' she whispered.

A waiter paused at the table to clear away the glasses and Neelum pulled away from Aamir as if stung by a bee. She looked around guiltily to see if anyone else in the restaurant had taken an interest in their tryst. 'I better go now, Aamir. I'm late already and Vikram will be worried.' Before Aamir could persuade her otherwise, Neelum hurried out of the restaurant.

The next day at work, Laila stopped typing after noticing Neelum's pensive mood.

'Why so sad, Neelum? Are you worried about your job? I told you there'll be no more retrenchments for a while.' Neelum confessed about meeting Aamir and poured out her fears.

'I'm glad you confided in me,' said Laila, stapling the document she had just typed. In a voice as businesslike as her actions she said, 'You must nip this romance in the bud. You have too much to lose! Tell Aamir you can't meet him any more.'

'Easier said than done,' said Neelum, frowning at Laila, 'Have you ever been denied love?'

Laila pondered for a moment, before confessing, 'I did choose my own husband. My parents were happy as long as he was Bahraini.'

'Can you imagine what it must be like for me? To be sent away from Aamir, and married to someone I had never met before?'

'But that is your custom,' said Laila without sympathy. 'Your people believe in arranged marriages. Vikram doesn't ill treat you, does he? And he is Hindu like you so you both understand each other.'

Neelum looked at Laila helplessly. 'Is it a sin to want passion? I have never loved Vikram and he doesn't care for me or my feelings the way Aamir does.'

Laila seemed unconvinced. 'I'll tell Mariam not to put through any calls from Aamir for two weeks. That way you can think about what you're doing.'

Aghast, Neelum said, 'No, don't do that, Laila. I'll only talk to him and won't arrange another meeting. Please, there's no harm in talking.'

Laila frowned, 'Where do you meet him? I hope you're not doing anything you shouldn't.'

'Of course not,' Neelum said, offended Laila could even think such a thing, 'Aamir respects and loves me.'

'Hmph,' Laila spluttered, 'you can never tell with men.' She began typing and added in a knowledgeable tone, 'They have their needs, you know, and can't wait sometimes.'

# CHAPTER 30

**Six months later – January 1984**

Laila frowned over her typewriter as she applied correcting fluid to a draft letter. Neelum, aware of the tension in the air, sat next to her. Twenty staff members had been retrenched the previous fortnight including ten Bahrainis.

'I don't know why Samina is still here,' Laila huffed. 'She is not Bahraini and is still training. We don't need her in Marketing.' The typewriter carriage jangled as Laila banged the bottle of correcting fluid onto the desk. She faced Neelum, 'The word is that Steve Woods supports her. He arrived from London. Samina comes to Marketing to be trained by all the account officers.' Laila pouted. 'She is doing some banking course as well - paid for by the bank. Does Andrew's work when he travels to Jeddah, and even handles Asad Khan's clients when he is travelling.'

Neelum seemed miles away and Laila said, 'Do you want to know what Amanda, the English girl who works for the Credit Manager, told me yesterday?'

'What?' said Neelum absentmindedly.

'Steve has moved out of the Hilton hotel where the Bank put him when he arrived and into a company house in Budaiya. Samina goes there after work and sometimes on Friday. She tells her parents that she is with her Pakistani friend Dilnawaz. They have no idea that Samina is actually with Steve.'

Neelum perked up at this bit of gossip, 'Really? That takes courage. What do you make of their romance, Laila?'Laila shrugged, 'I don't know but do you want to know the most exciting part?' 'Of course.' 'Samina confides in Amanda, and when Steve goes to London on two weeks R & R in August, Samina is going to join him. The

summer months in England are lovely, not unbearably hot like Bahrain.'

Neelum's eyes widened at Samina's audacity as Laila continued. 'They are going to spend time with Steve's parents in Sidmouth in Devon. Samina is going to tell her parents she is travelling with Dilnawaz but once in England, Dilnawaz will be with her aunt and cousins and Samina will be with Steve.'

'How bold!' said Neelum with envy. 'I have to admit that it is so obvious Steve is captivated by her.'

Laila said ruefully, 'Who isn't? She walks in and every eye in the room is on her.'

Neelum was wistful. 'And she is not married any more.'

'True,' said Laila. 'She was able to dissolve her arranged marriage because this is Bahrain, not Pakistan. This country is more progressive that way but Samina is still Muslim and cannot marry a man of another religion, especially an English Christian like Steve.'

'What does religion matter these days?' said Neelum thinking of Aamir. 'It will be interesting to see what solution they find. I am sure someone in Steve's position will find an answer.'

'You could be right.'

'I hope so,' said Neelum, thinking more of her own predicament, 'Anyway, Laila, discussing their romance relieves the stress of wondering who is going to be retrenched next.'

Laila nodded and resumed typing. 'By the way, how is the filing coming along?'

'I'm doing my best. There are just too many files. Many clients having multiple files. At least I've made sense of Marie's filing system but wish I was still doing word processing, plus my shorthand will get rusty.'

Laila exploded, 'Really, Neelum, you expatriates never bother to learn Arabic and yet live here for years. Besides a good morning 'sab al khair' and a few other phrases, you know nothing of Arabic.'

Surprised at the turn in conversation, Neelum was placating, 'I know it is disgraceful but English is spoken everywhere, not only in the office but by taxi drivers and shop keepers. There is no incentive to learn Arabic. Expatriates are only here for a few years.'

Laila turned to face Neelum. 'You went to a convent school where all subjects were taught in English. We Bahrainis have studied in Arabic schools where English is only one subject so no wonder your English is better than ours.'

Neelum realized Laila had taken her criticism of Marie personally. Laila, always so confident and often brash, must be worried about her job and resentful so many Bahrainis were retrenched.

'Our proficiency in English helps get employment in banks and foreign companies but we must work hard. I know Bahrainis have a good work ethic too but we expatriates can be dismissed on a whim.' Neelum watched Laila's body language soften as she listened to her explanation, 'This is your country Laila and your job is more secure as it should be, and as a citizen you are entitled to social security.'

Laila opened her drawer, took out her stapler and stapled the letter she had just typed. 'Neelum, as you say in English, the writing is on the wall. It does not matter whether you are Bahraini or not. In these uncertain economic times, nobody's job is safe.'

Neelum sighed with relief that Laila had calmed down. She could not afford to have this girl, who seemed to know everything about everyone, as an enemy.

# CHAPTER 31

**May 1984**

The Gulf Air flight to London took off at 10 am with Samina and Dilnawaz, both dressed in jeans and T-shirts, on board. Seated in economy, Samina had the window seat. She put her cabin bag in the overhead locker and selected a stack of magazines to browse through.

Dilnawaz chose the Women's Weekly and produced a large packet of potato chips and a family sized Cadbury's chocolate from her handbag. 'In case we get the munches!' she whispered with a grin. 'I know the flight to London is only eight hours, but by the time we reach Heathrow, it will be early morning, too early for them to serve breakfast on the plane.' Dilnawaz fastened her seat belt, 'You said you had been to London before?'

'Yes,' said Samina, turning her attention away from watching the various procedures of the ground crew as they readied the plane for flight, 'a few years ago my sister Ishrat and I travelled with our parents. We stayed with Mum's sister in Surrey and she helped us acclimatize quickly.'

'I'm glad my cousin will meet me. She's such fun. She's studying sociology at university,' said Dilnawaz. 'As you know, I go to England every year.'

Samina murmured, 'Yes, lucky you.'

'And Steve will be there to meet you,' beamed Dilnawaz. She offered Samina the packet of chips.

Samina leaned back in her seat. 'Steve has a flat in London he rents out while stationed in Bahrain so we will stay at his parents' house in Devon. They have retired there and I believe the home is cosy. Steve treats it like a holiday house and goes there to escape the hustle and bustle of London. Apparently it's a three hour drive from Heathrow but the surrounding countryside is very pretty.' She closed her eyes as if imagining the car ride, 'It will be a lovely drive from the airport to Sidmouth and there are fabulous beaches thereto escape the memory of the heat in Bahrain.'

'No question about escaping the heat but to be away from the petty gossip will do you more good, even if we have a lot of freedom in Bahrain compared to Pakistan.'

Samina opened her eyes and turned to her companion. 'Certainly, I could never have got a divorce so easily, but my father insisted on the arranged marriage even though I was against it and so unhappy.'

Dilnawaz opened the chocolate wrapper and broke the bar into two equal portions and handed Samina one. 'Thank goodness we can at least work and have the good fortune to be working in banks and gaining knowledge about economic independence!' She rummaged in her bag for a business card. 'Have I given you my cousin's phone number? We must keep in touch.'

'Of course, I'll stay in touch,' Samina said with a laugh. 'We are traveling back to Bahrain together so my parents will not know I have been with Steve.'

The flight attendants served lamb curry with pilau rice for lunch, and carrot halwa afterwards for dessert. When the meal had been cleared they could watch a movie but Samina said, 'Who wants to watch a movie? I'd rather catch up on your news. How do you like working for the Arab International Bank?'

'The money's good,' said Dilnawaz, 'and it's so interesting working in the foreign exchange department. Our manager, Bill Hinds is nice. There's never a dull moment buying and selling world currencies and watching market speculation.'

Samina said, 'I'm learning a lot in my new job. It's a big promotion helping me get a foot in the door.'

Dilnawaz sat upright as if she had forgotten something important, 'That reminds me. I've been meaning to ask you about a girl called Neelum working in your office. We have someone new by the name of Aamir in the foreign exchange department and he's often on the phone to Neelum. He's Muslim, from Pakistan, and when I told him that there was a phone call from his wife, he just looked away and said, "Not my wife, just a friend." We sit side by side and I overheard him mentioning the name of your bank. Does a Neelum work there?'

Samina looked stunned and curious. 'Neelum is a secretary in Marketing. I give her my typing to do. But you say Aamir is Muslim, well Neelum is Hindu from India. I'm quite sure she is married but I've noticed she often has soft telephone conversations so she can't be overheard. She's a good worker, has done a marvelous job with the filing system, which is probably why she survived all the retrenchments.'

'Ooh, I wonder if they are having an affair.' Dilnawaz giggled.

Samina didn't think the situation funny, 'I must try to stop Neelum,' she said. 'She is heading for big trouble. She is married and comes from a conservative family.' Samina shook her head in consternation. 'And if her husband finds out, he will stop her from going to work, or worse...'

Dilnawaz rolled her eyes. 'How did they get to know each other in the first place? Indians and Pakistanis don't mix. We've had three wars and I'm sure India would love to gobble up Pakistan if they could.'

Samina shook her head. 'That's politics, Dilnawaz, not passion. I must observe Neelum more closely and find out what's going on. She mainly does my work and I like her, so feel sort of responsible for her welfare. I wonder if I should warn her what she is letting herself in for?'

Dilnawaz threw back her head and laughed. 'Now don't go meddling where you shouldn't. You're a Pakistani Muslim meeting an English Christian in secret from your family. Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?'

Samina smiled and didn't take offence at her friend's jibe. 'Goon with you! I'm single and so is Steve. Neelum is married. If there is scandal she'll get a bad name and it could spread through the expat community.'

Dilnawaz decided not to let her friend off too easily and reminded, 'Samina you were still married when you met Steve, and didn't we start today with relief to get away from the bank gossip about you!'

Samina ignored this and said, 'Our bank is not doing well. You're lucky, Arab banks are doing better.'

Dilnawaz shifted in her seat and settled into a more comfortable position. 'No doubt our day will come too, that is one thing I have learnt from observing market speculation - it is all a gamble. Now I'm going to have a nap.'

Samina too relaxed and closed her eyes.

A loud voice woke them up, 'Please fasten your seatbelts to prepare for landing.'

The plane circled over England. Samina gazed at the colourful tapestry of the land below, neat rectangular squares, a myriad shades of green. 'Such a contrast to the arid brown landscape of the Gulf,' she said as she pressed her face against the glass.

'The weather will be a lot cooler too Samina,' said Dilnawaz. 'You must get Steve to take you around London and show you the sights. It is one of the most interesting cities in the world. So much history, right back to Roman times, and wonderful places to dine.'

Samina and Dilnawaz waited in the longest queue formed to clear immigration at Heathrow Airport. When they finally cleared immigration and customs and entered the Arrivals Hall they were greeted by Steve's beaming face.

After hugging Steve rapturously, Samina turned to Dilnawaz who had found her cousin. 'At last free of being harassed by Immigration officials who don't like Pakistani passports. Wish I could swap the green passport for a blue one.'

Dilnawaz agreed, 'The Indian passport is respected more. I don't know why they think Pakistanis will stay here illegally.'

Samina walked briskly to keep up with Steve striding ahead with her bags to the car park. 'I know, Dilnawaz. An interview at the British embassy, providing an address in England and even producing a letter from the bank to prove I was employed there - all before they granted us visas.'

'Oh well, water under the bridge now,' said Dilnawaz. 'Let's concentrate on our holiday. Take care and I'll keep in touch by phone.'

Dilnawaz wheeled her suitcase and followed her cousin to her parked car. Steve negotiated the busy airport traffic with practiced ease and within half an hour they were on the motorway to Sidmouth.

# CHAPTER 32

When they arrived at the little two bedroom cottage in Sidmouth, Steve's mother stirred a pot of plum jam and filled the air with sweet aroma. The cottage nestled in a street lined with leafy elm and plane trees. The detached building had a neat handkerchief-sized garden in front where red, pink, and yellow roses tumbled over the picket fence in wild profusion.

Grace Woods hastily wiped her hands on her apron and greeted Samina with genuine warmth. 'Welcome, My Dear, Steve mentions you all the time in his phone calls from Bahrain. How was the flight?'

'Not too bad,' said Samina, 'and the drive to Sidmouth from Heathrow is just gorgeous. Your countryside so green and lush such a contrast to the browns and beiges of the Gulf.'

Grace beamed with pleasure. 'The green fields of England are famous My Dear and all the flowers are blooming.'

'Here flowers grow wild, whereas in Bahrain it is almost impossible to grow anything apart from palm trees. Only the rich have gardens because they import the soil and fertilizers and employ full-time gardeners from India and Pakistan.'

'I'm glad our English countryside has made such a good impression,' said Grace. 'Now after such a long flight, you must be dying to have a shower.' She turned to Steve, who had taken over stirring the jam. 'Show Samina around, I'll finish stirring the jam and pot it, then we'll have lunch.' Steve relinquished the large wooden spoon to follow his mother's orders. Grace turned to Samina, 'Steve told me you don't eat pork.'

'No,' Samina said, 'I'm not a very religious Muslim but I do observe some of the customs.'

'That's fine My Dear but a traditional English breakfast includes bacon. You don't mind if we eat that in front of you?'

Samina smiled and shook her head. 'Oh, of course not, Mrs Woods, this is your home!'

'Grace, Dear; call me Grace. Now please make yourself at home.'

Steve's masculine and spartan bedroom had been softened by a few feminine touches here and there added by his mother. A pretty frilled quilt with pink and mauve flowers adorned the bed. On the dressing table sat the vase of green onyx marble Samina had given Steve on his first visit to Bahrain. This memento from Pakistan held summer roses from his mother's garden, their sweet scent permeating the room.

'The heating will come on at night when the temperature drops,' said Steve. 'Summer temperatures are lower here than Bahrain. Now I'll leave you to shower and freshen up.'

Steve returned to the kitchen to find his mother removing a casserole from the oven. He offered to lay the table.

The next morning, Steve and Samina ate breakfast in the dining room; bacon and eggs for Steve and scrambled eggs on toast for Samina.

'You must go for a walk down the beach after breakfast,' said Grace. 'If you stand by the cliffs the sea is stunning.' She frowned, 'Samina, have you brought a jacket with you? It can be quite cold and windy.'

'Yes, Steve did tell me to bring a jacket, and I've brought several long sleeved tops as well.'

'Oh, good. Now the pair of you be back in time for lunch,' Grace said as they waved and walked out the cottage door.

The wind ruffled Samina's hair as she and Steve stood at the cliff top, looking down into the churning sea. White-flecked waves crashed and seagulls circled and swooped down to the water.

'You're cold,' said Steve putting his arm around Samina

She wrapped her Pashmina shawl tightly around her shoulders and snuggled close to him. 'I prefer this type of weather to the forty degree heat of Bahrain. We live and breathe air conditioning in the house, office and car.'

'True, it can't be good for our lungs to breathe all that recycled air,' said Steve, 'but from October to February the weather in Bahrain is wonderful. Well, it suits me and I wish it would stay like that all year round.'

'An ideal world would be six months here and six months there,' agreed Samina. She sighed. 'Oh to be rich!'

Hand in hand, they walked along the cliff path and relished the salty sea air as the wind whipped their hair. Afterwards, they got into the car and drove home to be greeted by the appetizing smell of cooking. Mrs Woods was busy setting the table.

They sat down to roast lamb and gravy, with baked potatoes, carrots, broccoli and peas. Steve's father, Brian, asked Samina, 'Do you eat roast lamb in Bahrain?'

'You can buy lamb but I don't know how to cook it,' said Samina blushing. 'We eat mostly Pakistani food, curries with chappatis or rice, though we sometimes barbecue kebabs.' Samina addressed Steve's mother, 'Grace, I'd love to have some recipes from you so I can cook these dishes.'

'Of course, My Dear. Now, we're having apple pie for dessert so I hope you're still hungry!'

Samina's eyes lit up. 'I love baking cakes and biscuits but I don't have a lot of time.'

Grace put a large slice of apple pie in front of Samina and passed her the cream. 'I'll pack a fruit cake and some of my biscuits for you to take back to Bahrain. And a jar of plum jam I made yesterday. Do you make jam, Samina?'

Samina shook her head. 'I don't know how. All our fruit is imported and very expensive. I just buy jam at the supermarket.'

Grace finished dishing out the apple pie, and said, 'How do you find living in Bahrain? I gather from Steve it's a good place to earn money and save because the bank provides furnished accommodation to management staff.'

Samina nodded. She turned to Steve, 'Grace must come to Bahrain for a holiday. I can show her around.' Samina smiled at Grace. 'You will like the souks, traditional Bahraini markets. The gold souk is fascinating. Bahraini brides wear a lot of jewellery just like in Pakistan. There are so many traditional designs of gold filigree work.'

'How kind, Samina,' said Grace, 'I'd love to come for a visit. I've never been outside England.'

Samina rested her elbows on the table. 'That's settled. We have good weather in October, so you must come then. Steve has a spacious villa with a houseboy who cooks and cleans and does all the odd jobs. We'll treat you like a queen.'

# CHAPTER 33

'Neelum, quick, come into the ladies room.'

Neelum paused from putting a new ribbon cartridge into her typewriter. 'What's the matter, Laila? Why are you whispering?'

'We don't want anyone to hear.' Laila looked around her warily, 'Afsana has just told me that Rosy has been sacked because she's been making long distance calls to England and India for months. And they found out she stole the hundred dinars from my bag.'

They walked into the ladies toilet and stood near the wash basin. Neelum looked puzzled. 'Long distance calls are not shown on the phone bill. Batelco is trying to arrange that but at the moment it is impossible to tell which countries have been called and for how long.' She furrowed her brows, 'And how did they find out she stole your money?'

'She's been seen going into the conference room to make private calls before anyone arrives at work. Also late in the evening when everyone has left. They suspected her for some time. Mariam was told to listen to her conversations and record them.'

Neelum shuddered to think private conversations could be monitored and wondered if Mariam ever listened to her calls. What did she know about Aamir?

Laila did not notice Neelum's discomfort and continued to relate about Rosy. 'She's been caught red-handed. She not only stole from me but also from Asad Khan. He was at a meeting and left his jacket on the chair. She pinched his wallet when she thought nobody was looking - but they were!'

Neelum digested this information. 'No wonder the bank took a very serious view of all this.'

'Rosy was foolish to risk her job. A good salary and money on the side not enough, just too greedy.'

Still stunned, Neelum shook her head, 'People do silly things and I guess she didn't think she'd ever be caught.'

A creak from the doorway made both girls turn quickly to see Samina arrive. They both went quiet.

'There you are, Neelum. I can't find the Jawad and Matbouli files and I need it as soon as possible because I have to do a spreadsheet.'

'I'll get them straight away,' she said and hurried to her desk. After making a pretence of reapplying her make-up, Laila too went back to work.

Neelum sorted papers from the pending file tray and looked up, aware of someone approaching. Rosy came to her desk, 'I suppose you've heard,' she said. 'I've been told to pack up and leave by the end of the day.'

'What will you do now?' said Neelum filing a credit report in the box file. 'It's hard to get a good job these days with banks downsizing.'

Rosy shrugged. 'At least they will give me my dues.'

'I suppose you could try one of the Arab banks. They're doing better than the American ones.'

'The Bank cancelled my resident visa but I know some influential people. I'll get another sponsor and try in the First Arab National Bank.' She paused, 'Isn't that where your friend Aamir works?'

Neelum looked away, 'Yes. Aamir was my neighbour in Dubai. Look Rosy, I wish you well for the future but I have a lot of work to do now there are only three secretaries left here. We have to share the workload and sometimes it is difficult to manage.'

Rosy took the hint. 'I must go now too,' she said and returned to her desk, deliberately avoiding Laila's penetrating glare.

Later that day Rosy stuffed her belongings into a plastic bag and took her last ride in the lifts.

Neelum and Aamir met at the Firdausi restaurant that evening, in the family section as usual, feeling secure they wouldn't be spotted. When they were seated, Neelum still glanced around to check no one was looking and breathed a sigh of relief before laying a hand on Aamir's arm. 'I feel so guilty when I go home to Vikram. I shouldn't really be here with you.'

The waiter came to their table and greeted them as regulars as they ordered pakoras with tamarind chutney. When the waiter left, Amir caught Neelum's hand and said, 'Neeli you married Vikram because your parents forced you to and you were too young to stop it. You stay with him out of duty not love. You love me, we belong together.' He kissed her lightly on the lips. 'I've left everything to follow you here.'

Neelum looked at him with sad eyes. 'What am I going to do? Why does life have to be so complicated? Vikram has submitted papers for Australia and we're waiting for the interview.'

'And I told you before, let him go alone. You stay here with me. We'll get married in a proper ceremony. This is a Muslim country so your marriage can be dissolved. A Muslim man can marry a woman of another religion and she doesn't have to convert.'

Neelum felt tears ready to fall. 'But the Hindu community will shun me and my parents will never speak to me again.'

Aamir stroked her cheek. 'That remains to be seen. You're their only child.'

'What will I tell Vikram?'

'Leave that to me.'

Neelum relaxed a little. This is what she loved about Aamir. His decisiveness and strength. He made her feel wanted and cherished and not just an appendage or necessary baggage. She checked the time. 'Aamir, it's seven-thirty and I usually get home by seven when working late.'

'A few more minutes won't hurt.'

Neelum sighed. 'I'll tell Vikram I've been catching up on the filing. He knows we are short staffed but I'd better go now.' She picked up her handbag and left, walking as fast as she could, not daring to look back and see Aamir's forlorn face.

Neelum placed yoghurt curry with dumplings on the table, along with the rice. She looked at Vikram, his eyes glued to the TV as usual as he watched the financial news. She sighed with loneliness.

When he at last sat at the table, he said, 'Neel, the Bahrain dinar has remained steady against the U.S. dollar for the past few months, two and a half dollars to a dinar. We now have eighty thousand dollars in our Australian bank account!' When she didn't respond, Vikram turned and peered closely at his wife. 'Are you listening tome?' he said.

Neelum stared at the TV screen, unaware of Vikram's attention. A worried frown knotted his brow. 'I say, what's the matter, Neel? You look miserable. Is it the stress in the office? Don't worry, everything will turn out all right in the end.' He placed his hand on her arm and she jumped.

Neelum could not meet his eyes. 'Dinner is ready,' she said, 'I have prepared your favourite food. Sorry I had to work late. You must be starving.' It was as if she didn't realize she had already said all that - they were already seated - but Vikram shrugged her behavior off as stress and began tucking into his food. Even if Neelum didn't seem to care, the thought of the $80,000 thrilled him.

# CHAPTER 34

**July 1984**

Vikram looked at Neelum, his eyes ablaze. He couldn't keep the excitement from his voice. 'You'll never guess what mail came in today.' Mail in Bahrain was delivered to the post box numbers of the companies where people worked and all their mail arrived under Vikram's name.

Neelum picked at the food on her plate and in a flat voice said, 'Your mother's letter from Kuwait? A letter from Kiran in Melbourne?'

'A letter from the Australian embassy in Dubai.' He dropped the letter on the table, the embossed letterhead gleaming in the lamplight. 'They ask us to come for an interview in two weeks. Neel, this is wonderful news!' When Neelum didn't react, Vikram said, 'We can both take sick leave for the day. It's a half hour journey by Gulf Air so we should be able to go there and come back the same day and even fit in a visit to your parents.'

At last Neelum spoke but without the enthusiasm Vikram expected. 'It is good news indeed but why don't we ask them to defer the interview to next year? We will have even more money saved.' Neelum could feel Vikram's eyes piercing her body like a spear. Her voice dropped away and with trembling hands she putdown her fork.

Vikram stared, not understanding at first, then with suspicion lacing his words, he asked, 'But why? This is what we have been hoping and waiting for, I don't think we should delay even for a moment. They want accountants and secretaries in Australia now but professions in demand keep changing. We could miss out. No, it won't do to defer the interview. I'll book our tickets first thing tomorrow morning for the interview on the 25th of July. Ring and tell your parents to expect a visit.'

Neelum tried to smile. 'It will be great to see my parents again. I haven't seen them since our wedding.' She began clearing the table and said. 'We must take an early flight then.'

Vikram stared intently at Neelum, 'You have hardly touched your food. Is everything all right? Still under pressure in the office?'

'Yes,' said Neelum, looking down at the table cloth. 'I'm not hungry. I had a snack while working late.' She hurried into the kitchen to avoid more questioning, 'I'll wash up while you watch TV or finish reading the paper.'

The next day at work, during a meeting of the Account Officers in the conference room, Laila approached Neelum's desk, a smile across her face. Neelum stopped sorting a pile of papers and waited for another slice of information or office gossip.

'You know something, Neelum?' Laila said. 'Our jobs are secure. Since Rosy's departure and Marie's redundancy, me, you and Afsana are the secretaries left in Marketing and Afsana assures there will be no more redundancies this year.'

'That's something to celebrate,' said Neelum, slipping papers into a folder.

'What's the matter? I thought you'd be thrilled.' said Laila.

'I am. It's just I'm not feeling that great, coming down with a cold or something.' Neelum didn't trust her secret with anyone, not even supportive Laila.

'Stop gossiping, you pair,' said Afsana as she passed by Neelum's desk. 'Have you no work to do?'

'Plenty,' said Laila, 'as you well know but we can't work every second. We have to talk to each other sometimes, and all the officers are in a meeting where I am sure they're doing plenty of talking.'

Neelum struggled not to smile and when Afsana was out of sight, she said, 'You're cheeky, Laila. I could never talk like that because she'd be angry and make a scene but you're Bahraini like Afsana.'

Laila giggled and perched on the edge of Neelum's desk. 'Not only that, my husband comes from one of the leading families in Bahrain. She won't dare tell me off.'

Later, when Afsana was busy typing out a long telex in the computer room, Laila showed Neelum a novel. 'I'm reading this at the moment. It's called The Far Pavilions and is set during the British Raj. I must lend it to Samina. It's about a forbidden romance between an Indian princess and a British army officer.'

Neelum giggled, sharing the joke. 'Are you referring to Samina's forbidden romance with Steve? I wouldn't mind reading it either. After Samina finishes it of course.'

'I almost forgot to tell you,' Laila said, 'Steve's parents are coming to Bahrain next week and Samina will show them around, hoping to make a good impression.'

Neelum looked up at Laila with amazement. 'Where did you get that news from? You seem to know everything that's going on.'

'Amanda in the Credit department. Samina confides in her and you know a woman can never keep a secret for long - well not in this place!'

# CHAPTER 35

Grace and Brian Woods survived passport control, immigration, and customs even though Grace had packed some of her fruit cake into tins, and had jars of home-made jam. Luckily, there were no restrictions on bringing food into Bahrain. Grace glanced at some poor labourers from Pakistan who had come to work on construction sites, curiosity and compassion in her grey eyes. They received more scrutiny from customs officers who picked parcels of cooked food from ragged cardboard boxes and chastised the men in a mixture of broken Urdu. 'Do you think there is no food in Bahrain, huh?'

The men's wives had packed for them to ensure they ate well for the first few days in the new country. A tall Pathan in long shirt and baggy trousers replied in stilted Urdu and English, 'Sir, food costs more than three times what we pay back home plus our wives prepare tasty food to last many days because they know we will miss their cooking.'

Grace thought of the goodies she had brought Steve and smiled. It seemed women were the same the world over when it came to feeding their menfolk. She slipped her arm through her husband's and they walked through the doors into the terminal to find Samina and Steve waiting near the barriers. After being greeted warmly, the travelers were whisked away to Steve's car.

On the drive to Steve's villa in Budaiya, Grace remarked, 'Nobody seems to be following any particular traffic rules here. How do you manage to drive?'

Samina giggled and said, 'We're used to it and just go with the flow.' Grace peered out of the window at the dusty landscape dotted with an occasional clump of palm tree. No grass or plants in sight, not even a single flower. Nobody seemed to have a garden. Paved courtyards were everywhere.

Embarrassed in case they could read her negative thoughts, Grace remarked, 'At least the weather is good.'

'Yes,' Samina agreed with a laugh, 'we made sure you visited at the best time of year otherwise the heat would have been unbearable for you.'

The car drew up at large wrought iron gates. A security guard opened the gates after recognizing Steve. Grace and Brian exchanged a look of surprise. They alighted in front of a spacious villa with high walls and knew they were very far from their little cottage in Sidmouth.

Steve lugged their suitcases to the guest bedroom where Samina had hung new curtains and placed a colourful rug to warm the tiled mosaic floor. She had chosen a few paintings for the walls and filled a vase with roses for the dresser. The flowers had cost ten dinars at the florist but the expense had been worth it to see Grace's face light up at the sight of roses. 'A touch of home,' she said breathing in their scent.

'You must be starving,' Samina said to Grace and Brian. 'Steve's houseboy Anoop has prepared a nice meal of English food. Please eat right away, then you can shower and rest and we'll take you out later.'

The Woods tucked into steaks and chips and the garden salad that came with it. 'Such a welcome relief from the food served on the plane,' said Brian between mouthfuls.

When Grace thanked Anoop and complimented his cooking, she discovered the houseboy doubled as a cleaner, car washer, dishwasher and general handyman about the place. Grace shook her head in astonishment. What an easy, luxurious life her son led.

'What do you pay him for doing all that?' she enquired when Anoop had left the room.

'A hundred and twenty dinars a month,' replied Steve. He saw his mother's eyebrows raise. 'You might consider that peanuts but if Anoop worked for a local family, he would get half that amount, and they wouldn't treat him as well as I do. He wouldn't get a day off on Friday and would sleep in a corner of the kitchen or somewhere else unappealing. I have a room in the courtyard for him plus I let a woman friend stay with him. No local family would agree to that arrangement. The woman works in another compound but does not get accommodation.'

'Is he happy here?' asked Grace.

'Very happy, so he tells me.' said Steve. He supports a wife and children in Sri Lanka with the money he sends. It would be impossible for him to earn the same amount of money in Sri Lanka.'

'Well, I can see that besides the office work, you are waited on hand and foot,' declared Grace. 'Is that the case with you too?' she said, turning to Samina.

'I live with my parents and share a room with my sister Afshan. My Mum does the cooking and my sister and I help, but we do have a maid to do all the heavy housework like cleaning, dusting, vacuuming, washing and ironing. We too have a room for the maid in our courtyard. She is paid well, and we give her clothes that we have hardly worn.'

Grace sighed. 'Will you two adjust to life in England without all the creature comforts you've just described? Life can be hard when you do the work yourself.'

'Oh, we'll adapt,' Samina said with a laugh. 'We're not totally useless at housework, you know. It's just the way it is here. Now, would you like some lemon meringue pie for dessert, prepared by Anoop?'

# CHAPTER 36

Samina had taken a few days off to show Steve's parents around because Steve, being in charge of the Loans Department, had to go to work. Samina took Grace and Brian to the souk in Bab-al-Bahrain, the central market place in the heart of Bahrain.

They walked through the ancient archway of Bab-al-Bahrain and beneath a welcome sign in ornate Arabic script. Grace and Brian found the souk fascinating. Wares and goods from every part of the world displayed to advantage in grand shops on the main street. Grace became more interested in the local Bahraini shops, discovering home-grown spices, dried fruits and nuts, fabrics of silk, cotton, and wool, exotic perfumes, brassware and pottery in traditional designs, all spilling onto the pavement outside the quaint shops decorating the maze of crooked alleys.

Enthralled with the locally produced handicrafts, Grace purchased a brass lamp and vase, plus two colourful cotton kaftans. Brian bought a painting of a show by a local artist.

'Come, I have a surprise for you,' said Samina, ushering Grace from the handicraft shop to the gold souk that sold 22 carat hallmark gold. She introduced her favourite jeweller, Mukesh.

'Is my order ready?' she asked.

'Yes Madam,' Mukesh bowed deferentially, 'it's right here.' He went to a glass cabinet and removed a dark velvet covered box. He opened it, beaming with pride, to reveal an exquisite pearl bracelet.

'For you,' said Samina with a smile, handing the box to Grace. 'Bahrain is known for its fresh water pearls. Most expatriates take home a pearl necklace or bracelet souvenir of their time in Bahrain. This is yours.'

Grace blushed, 'Oh I can't accept this, My Dear. It's much too expensive.' And worried in case her words offended, she added quickly, 'Thank you for your generosity but this gift is unexpected and ... and really too kind.'

'Nonsense!' Samina insisted. 'I ordered it especially for you, and Steve knows about it. I won't accept a refusal,' and with that declaration, she fastened the bracelet to Grace's slender wrist.

Grace wiped away a tear. 'I don't know how to thank you,' she said in a voice trembling.

'By coming to lunch at a typical eating house in the souk,' said Samina with a laugh.

A look of pleasure came over the faces of Grace and Brian, who licked his lips and said 'Oh, good.'

'You cannot leave without trying the local food because you will mainly have English food cooked by Anoop.' Samina whispered an aside to Grace, 'I think Steve suggested to Anoop your digestive system may prefer that food!'

Grace laughed and said, 'I suppose living where we do in England we've never been adventurous eaters but the food smells so good here, it's made me hungry to taste it.'

They stopped at Vimla's and ate the flat bread kabooz with lentils, meat, and a lamb pilau, and washed it down with little glasses of Arabic coffee.

Brian insisted on paying the bill, counting out the unfamiliar money exchanged for English pounds from the foreign exchange dealer in the souk. He grinned like a schoolboy who had come top of the class and announced, 'I'm getting the hang of this currency!'

Samina laughed and glanced at her watch, 'We must see other historical sites another day because the traffic will be heavy if we leave too late.' They made their way through the alleyways and Samina continued, 'There's a lot of history here. Bahrain was the centre of a prosperous civilization about five thousand years ago and many archaeologists have excavated the ancient ruins and unearthed coins, jewellery and pottery – also walls of settlements and large burial mounds.'

Brian's eyes lit up. 'I like visiting historical places. England is steeped in history of course, but so is Bahrain and with more exotic names.'

Samina elaborated now she had caught Brian's interest, 'Even today Bahrain is important in the Gulf region. It's the centre of Islamic banking and offshore foreign banking. Did you know it was the first country in the Gulf to find oil and most of our revenue comes from that?'

On the drive back to Budaiya, the visitors said again how much they had enjoyed the day. They arrived home just as Steve came in from work.

'We had an absolutely lovely time,' said Grace showing Steve her purchases. Then she flashed the bracelet, 'I believe you know about this?' Steve nodded and smiled, giving a wink to Samina.

'You are a naughty but wonderful pair,' said Grace.

Steve and Samina glowed with happiness. Steve felt elated too because he knew his mother had accepted he and Samina as a couple.

Ten days later, Grace and Brian Woods visited the airport again to catch a morning flight home to England. They hugged Samina and Steve one last time. They gave a final wave and disappeared through the international departure gates.

Steve and Samina linked arms and with heavy hearts returned to the Bank to catch up on work.

# CHAPTER 37

**25 July 1984**

Neelum and Vikram sat in reception at the Australian Embassy in Dubai. A wall clock ticked loudly, its hands close to eleven o'clock, their appointment time. They had caught a taxi to the Embassy to be on time after going straight from the airport to visit Neelum's parents where they had shared a breakfast of chickpeas and potato with puris, and mugs of hot sweet tea.

Pradip and Jyanti were overjoyed to see Neelum and Vikram, who they championed as a fine specimen. Neelum appeared to have settled down with this educated Hindu boy of good family. They sensed a new maturity in her features and manner. Jyanti felt vindicated in arranging the marriage, the best thing they had done for Neelum, having her safely married in Bahrain.

But Neelum was thinking about Aamir when a well-groomed consulate officer appeared in the doorway to call out their names and request they follow her.

Once in her office Christina Best said in a pleasant voice, 'How are you?'

'Very well thank you,' said Vikram.

She addressed Neelum. 'Are you staying in Dubai for a few days? I believe your parents are here.'

'I've just met them after two years but we must be at work tomorrow so we're going back on the evening flight.'

'That's a shame. I'm sure they were thrilled to catch up. Now do sit down,' said Christina as she perused their application. 'Where are you both working at the moment?'

Vikram replied, 'I'm working for Batelco, and my wife is working for the First National Bank of America.'

'I see you will be going to Melbourne and staying with your cousin who sponsored you?' Christina flicked through a pile of papers, ' Ah, here is the letter from your cousin Kiran stating he has a three bedroom house and a job with the Commonwealth Bank; and that he will support you till you find jobs and your own accommodation.'

'Yes, my cousin will put us up as long as is necessary. But hopefully we will soon stand on our own feet.'

The consular officer smiled before a further perusal of their application. 'You have over eighty thousand dollars in the ANZ Bank. And you intend taking a bank draft of another twenty thousand dollars with you. With your work histories and education, I don't see any problem with you both settling in Melbourne.'

Vikram said hesitantly, 'Does that mean we have passed the interview?'

'Yes,' said Christina. 'But there are still medicals and police clearance.'

Vikram sighed 'Thank you so much, we're very pleased to have succeeded.' He glanced at Neelum but she sat motionless.

'Good luck, and all the best for the future.' Christina beamed at both of them as she showed them to the door. She thought how pleasant her job was when she delivered good news. How she hated turning people down and seeing their dreams shatter.

'Mother, Melbourne is a flight away, please don't worry.' Neelum soothed a distressed Jyanti who dabbed her tears with the corner of her sari. They were at the airport, waiting to board a flight to Bahrain. 'These days, you can be there in a day! We won't be that far away.'

'Daughter, it is still thousands of miles away but I know a daughter belongs to her husband's family after marriage. You must do as Vikram wishes.'

'Nonsense!' exploded Vikram, unsettled by Jyanti's tears and Neelum's lack of enthusiasm. 'That is very old-fashioned. Neelum will always be your daughter. You can visit us whenever you wish.'

He looked pointedly at Neelum then spoke to Jyanti, 'And Neelum desires a new life in Australia as much as me. We have saved together and that is why she works – to achieve our dream.'

When they finally boarded, Neelum slumped into her allocated seat. She felt glad to be going 'home' to Bahrain. Dubai seemed a strange place without Aamir. Was 'home' with Vikram or Aamir? By the time the flight landed in Bahrain, Neelum had a splitting headache.

Showing unusual compassion, Vikram placed his hand under her elbow as they walked through passport control and customs, 'Neel, it must have been rotten parting with your parents after such a short time together. You must take a sedative to calm your emotions when we get home and lie down. Have a day off work tomorrow. I will take you to my doctor friend and get a medical certificate.'

Neelum appreciated Vikram's concern but she knew her sickness would not be cured by a day off work or a visit to the doctor. The solution to her unhappy feelings and emotional rollercoaster life may never be found. Neelum closed her eyes in the taxi home and willed the tears she had fought off all day to remain behind her eyelids. She ached to be alone in bed, perhaps to sleep but at least to be away from close scrutiny and questioning by Vikram. She knew her lack of interest about being accepted for Australia worried him.

# CHAPTER 38

**August 1984**

Vikram picked up his office phone and knitted his brows as the unfamiliar voice said, 'Vikram, we need to talk. My name is Aamir. It is about Neelum.'

'Neelum? Who are you, and how do you know my wife? I've never heard of you. Why must we talk?'

Aamir steadied his voice and said, 'I can't explain over the phone. We must meet face to face to talk about Neeli and...'

'Neeli?' Vikram frowned. Who was this man referring to his wife in such a familiar manner? He checked his watch and then with reluctance said, 'I don't see why you need to meet me. If you have something to say, say it now. How do I know this is not some kind of trick to rob or attack me? Getting at me through my wife and...'

Aamir interrupted before Vikram suggested more fanciful reasons for his call, 'You don't know me but I've known Neeli since school days in Dubai. We were neighbours for almost four years.'

'I see,' Vikram relaxed a little, 'but why do you need to meet me? If Neelum wants to invite you to dinner, she will ask me. What are you doing in Bahrain and how long will you be staying?'

'I work for the First Arab National Bank in the Diplomatic Area. You can check my credentials by phoning and asking about Aamir Aftab.' Aamir paused to let Vikram digest the information then repeated, 'I must talk privately with you... we must talk about Neeli and...'

It was Vikram's turn to interrupt and in a more worried tone he said, 'Talk about Neeli? All right, I can leave early and meet you in Old Palace Road. There's a video shop on the ground floor of an apartment building and opposite is a park. I'll be there around 6pm.'

'Thank you,' said Aamir, 'and how will I recognise you?'

'I'll be wearing a cream safari suit,' snapped Vikram, 'and you?'But Aamir had hung up, leaving Vikram even more unsettled. He toyed with the idea of ringing Neelum, then changed his mind. He'd meet this fellow Aamir first.

The park was an oasis of greenery in a brown landscape. Several benches in the shade of tall palm trees and water fountains offered some respite from the heat. Vikram arrived and looked about. A tall young man seated on the nearest bench stood up and approached with extended hand. Vikram did not shake it.

He had worked himself into an angry state, replaying the telephone conversation in his mind on the way to the park. 'I don't know why you want to talk about my wife but as her husband I want to know what your interest is. I didn't ring Neelum and upset her at work but I will be checking to make sure everything you tell me is the truth if you are going to besmirch her name.'

Aamir looked shocked, 'Besmirch Neeli? Never! I love her too much to ever do anything to hurt her.'

Vikram paled and stepped back as if he had been doused with cold water, 'What... what did you say?'

Aamir rushed into his prepared speech, 'I know this will be hard for you but Neelum and I were..... sweethearts. Neelum's parents tried to separate us by marrying her off to you but I could not get her out of my mind these past two years, and have come for her like I promised... and she feels the same way.'

'How dare you talk about my wife like that,' shouted Vikram. 'I knew you were Muslim the minute I heard your name. You liar, she can't possibly have feelings for you.' He moved towards Amir in a threatening manner, 'We Hindus do not marry Muslims. I don't believe my wife ever had any feelings for you and certainly would not entertain any now she is married.' Vikram started to walk away and over his shoulder flung, 'Just as well we met here so I can protect Neelum from you.'

Aamir raised his voice and spoke to Vikram's back, 'I came from Dubai and got a job here to claim Neeli for my wife. I am keeping a promise and no matter what you think or choose to believe Neeli feels exactly the same way. She has told me many times and you can ask her yourself.'

Vikram swung round to face Aamir. He clenched his fists. 'I feel like killing you with my bare hands for dishonouring my wife.' He breathed deeply, trying to control his rising temper as another thought made him ask, 'Are you telling me you and Neelum – my wife - have seen each other recently?'

Aamir nodded. He met Vikram's glare and remained resolute. Vikram stood silent for what seemed like hours, clenching and unclenching his fists. Then he hissed, 'Neelum will be home soon. Come and I will ask her in front of you.'

At 6.30 pm, Neelum, carrying the weary sadness that seemed to dog her every day now, turned the key in the door and walked into the sitting room. She froze, her stomach somersaulting in fear as she stared at sullen faced Vikram and Aamir, sitting upright like the pharaohs of old on each side of the sofa.

Before she could speak, Vikram shouted, 'Do you know this man,' he pointed at Aamir, 'and have you been seeing him behind my back?' He watched Neelum blanch and almost faint, 'This stranger says you love each other and want to be together to fulfil along term plan hatched in Dubai before you married me. Is this true?'

Neelum looked at Aamir, fear bright in her eyes, pleading for him to speak.

Like lightning Vikram was across the room and grabbing Neelum's wrist. He twisted her around to face him.

Neelum cried out, 'You're hurting me, Vikram. Please let me go.' She struggled to break free. 'Yes it's true. We were sweethearts in Dubai and Mother arranged the marriage with you to separate us.'

Vikram eased his grip and winced as if he had been punched, 'So you get your deceitful ways from your mother. She did not tell me anything of this. I blame her - she should never have allowed you to consort with a Muslim. Our enemy. As a Brahman Hindu of the highest caste we don't even allow sharing meals with Muslims. Remember how they took our lands and homes and butchered us at Partition.'

Aamir had risen to his feet and stood quite close to Neelum. He reached out and placed a restraining hand on Vikram's arm, 'Let her go, Vikram. You are talking nonsense, this is not about Muslim and Hindu, this is about love and I loved and still love Neeli. Your marriage as you have just admitted is an arrangement.'

Something in Aamir's tone made Vikram let go of Neelum's wrist. While she massaged her reddened skin she pleaded with him to calm down, but her pleas only served to make him more angry.

'You tell this man to get out and never contact us again.'

When Neelum remained silent Vikram said, 'We can sort things out. He is clearly taking advantage of your youth and naivety.'

Neelum shook her head, 'I can't tell him that, Vikram.'

'Why not?' he snarled, 'You're my wife, and I demand you tell this rogue to get out of your life.' He turned to Aamir and pointed to the door. 'Leave my house at once.'

Aamir did not move and instead reached a hand out to Neelum who was now sobbing. Infuriated, Vikram pushed Aamir towards the door. 'Get out of my house, you swine, or I'll beat the living daylights out of you.'

Aamir resisted and Neelum, galvanised into action, tried to get between the men. 'Stop, Vikram, don't do this. Stop, Aamir, please. No violence.'

Vikram let Aamir go and collapsed on the sofa. He held his head between trembling hands.

'What's come over you, Neel? You are acting like a stranger, not as my wife. What have I done to deserve this?' He raised his head and looked at her. 'You don't know what you're doing. He has some evil power manipulating you. I must get rid of him.' He jumped up and charged at Aamir.

The two men struggled. Aamir managed to fend off Vikram's blows. Neelum screamed, 'No, Vikram, don't do this. I'm not worth going to jail for and, no matter what, I'm not staying here any longer.'

Vikram, veins bulging in his neck as he seethed, broke free of Aamir's grip. Aamir moved beside Neelum and placed a protective arm around her shoulders.

Vikram screeched, 'Go! Get out! Go with your Muslim lover. Just get out of my house and never show your face here again. Take your belongings and get out of my sight. I don't want anything of yours left to taint this house.'

Neelum wept hysterically. 'I never wanted to hurt you, Vikram. I married you out of duty and respected you. I tried to be a goodwife but the feelings for Aamir never left me. Please forgive me. It's not my fault our marriage was arranged.'

Vikram turned his head away, 'I will never forgive you for insulting me like this and you have shamed your family and community. I don't have a wife called Neelum. Now get out.'

Aamir helped Neelum throw clothes and other belongings into a suitcase. She hesitated before grabbing her wedding jewellery. Vikram had said remove all trace of her existence. She sobbed in the crook of Aamir's arm. They left without a backward glance.

Vikram sat on the couch and nursed his injured pride and a beer.

# CHAPTER 39

Aamir carried Neelum's bulging suitcase to his car, parked outside the apartment building. He guided the weeping Neelum into the passenger seat and drove as fast as legally permitted to his apartment in the Diplomatic area.

Inside the flat, Aamir gently led Neelum to the sofa in the sitting room, put his arms around her and said, 'Please stop crying, Neeli. You are free from that loveless marriage. You didn't want to be with Vikram and now we are together again. You can stay with me while we sort things out.'

Finally, the tears ceased. Aamir kissed Neelum's eyes in turn before pressing his lips against hers. 'Oh, how I've longed for this moment,' he murmured. 'Life will be good. You'll see. My bank is just around the corner, and your bank is at the other end of the street. We can continue going to work like before, while we make arrangements to be married. Luckily, mostly westerners stay in this apartment building, so there won't be any busybodies wondering why you are staying here without being married.'

Neelum blew her nose and dabbed at her eyes. 'It's not as simple as that, Aamir. Bahrain is such a small place and people will notice I am walking to work from this apartment building. I will have to tell the girls in the office the truth. They will be shocked. They have always thought of me as being a good decent Hindu girl.'

'And you still are a good decent Hindu girl – and a beautiful one at that,' Aamir kissed her again. 'Don't worry about other people, Neeli. They'll get over their shock when we are married. Your marriage will be dissolved and we can be married soon after.'

To Aamir's surprise this heralded a fresh bout of crying from Neelum. 'I have nobody in the world now who cares for me except you. My parents won't have anything to do with me because I have disgraced them.'

Aamir stroked her hair. 'They'll come around in time. You are their only child.'

'But I have shamed them in front of the Hindu community. They may never forgive me.'

'It's almost 9 pm and you haven't eaten since lunch time; you must be hungry because I am! Let's go to Firdausi and have some dinner.'

Neelum touched up her puffy face with powder and they went to the Firdausi restaurant full of people having dinner. In the family section, a little child cried while his mother tried to feed him. Children exhorted to eat their dinner were threatened with no dessert. The place buzzed with laughter and conversation. The world was full of people behaving as if it was just another normal day, yet Neelum's world had just imploded. A normal Hindu wife would not surrender duty and respect for a shameless love liaison to someone outside the community.

Thoughts whirled inside her head and hunger pangs prevented her thinking clearly. When the food arrived, she ate as if starving. Amir too ate heartily and washed the meal down with beer. They sat in comfortable silence before Aamir asked, 'Neeli do you want to take a day's leave from work tomorrow? Maybe rest and sleep in while I go to my office.'

'Oh no! Being at the bank will be my lifeline. I'll be kept busy instead of sitting by myself in the flat when you have gone to work. I don't know any of the other tenants, and anyway, they must be working too.'

'You're right. The apartment building is new and strange for you. It will be empty the whole day so you won't feel safe being on your own.'

When they had finished their kulfi, Neelum and Aamir made their way back to the flat. Neelum unpacked and hung clothes in the wardrobe before showering. She donned a flimsy, frilly negligee then, overcome with shyness, hurried to be under the bedclothes before Aamir came into the bedroom. Aamir climbed into bed and drew a trembling Neelum close.

They made love tenderly, the trauma of the day forgotten as they vowed their love and consummated the passion denied for so long. Their bodies entwined under the soft quilt, they drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

# CHAPTER 40

**October 1984**

In the deepening dusk of early winter, Neelum and Aamir went to the main mosque in town late one Thursday evening. Neelum wore a gold embroidered red silk shalwar kameez. Her hair, shoulders and upper body were covered with a gauzy dupatta. She wore some of her former wedding jewellery, a necklace and earrings studded with rubies. Two work friends of Aamir's accompanied them as witnesses.

When the mullah appeared, Neelum bowed her head demurely as instructed by Aamir, and the marriage ceremony proceeded. She did not understand any of the ceremony which was in Arabic.

'You repeat the words after me and don't speak otherwise,' instructed Aamir. During the short ceremony, Aamir repeated words from the holy Quran. Neelum remained silent. When the mullah asked if she agreed to taking Aamir as her husband of her own freewill, Aamir prompted her, and she said 'Yes'.

The ceremony over, they signed the document, which the mullah presented to them. The witnesses also signed. Neelum brushed tears from her eyes.

Back at Aamir's flat only the two witnesses celebrated. There were no family or close friends. In the morning they had gone to the sweet shop and bought samosas and a selection of sweetmeats like laddoos, jalebis and gulab jamuns but the atmosphere lacked the joy a crowded room of family and friends provides. However, the visitors did not rush away and left late into the night.

Neelum and Aamir undressed and went to bed. Aamir was tender and gentle as usual as they made love. Neelum felt more relaxed as he whispered, 'My wife' into her ear. She drifted off to sleep just as the orange glow of dawn made the sky radiant.

December 1984

Another marriage ceremony progressed at Samina's parents' house. Steve had converted to the Muslim religion so there would be no barriers to marrying Samina. Samina, resplendent in a pink satin lehnga embroidered with gold thread, wore gold and diamond jewellery. Steve wore a grey suit. They sat on either side of the mullah.

Steve repeated the words in Arabic after the mullah. The mullah blessed them and asked Steve whether he accepted Samina as his wife. After Steve's response, he asked the same question of Samina and if she was marrying of her own free will. Then they signed the marriage certificate.

The lavish feast was held at Samina's house for her family and friends, including Dilnawaz, and Steve's colleagues from the office. The food weighed down several tables. Everyone knew Steve had converted for formality's sake because he had never cared for or practiced any religion in his life, although his parents were nominal Christians.

The celebration served as a farewell party too because Steve had been transferred back to the London office. He and Samina would be leaving Bahrain in a few weeks.

December 1984

A week before Christmas, Vikram too made his final farewell to Bahrain. He boarded a Qantas flight to Singapore on his way to Australia. The plane gained height and he saw Bahrain from a cloudless sky. It was a brown landscape, dotted with a touch of green. He sighed and acknowledged there was no present or future there for him, especially with the news of Neelum's marriage to Aamir. He'd start again in Australia. A new life beckoned, a better one he was sure... in the lucky country.
