Dirty Old Men [And Other Stories] (Zane Presents) (57 page)

Again, her uncles and father responded with chuckles. Saleema had an abundance of presence about her.

“But you are only twenty years old. Are you even ready for marriage?”

“I am a
good
twenty. I am
very
mature for my age.”

Khalif heard her out and nodded with a grin. “But are you ready for marriage to an
American?
”

With the directness of his question, Saleema finally looked down and away from him. Then she returned her glare to his eyes. “Yes,” she answered. “I am.”

Khalif nodded and was unsure of Saleema as well. The prospect of an arranged marriage definitely seemed
forced.
How could he really know if Vinod’s, or his brother’s, daughters were really ready to
be
married? Were they even allowed to deny their father’s wishes?

“No further questions. That is all,” Khalif told her.

Saleema seemed to study him a bit longer with her stare before she acknowledged the completion of his questions.

“Okay,” she finally answered. Then she bowed to them.

“Send in your sister, Ieesh,” her father addressed her.

Saleema nodded. “Yes.” As she left the room, she cut a final eye to Khalif.

He caught it and smiled at her, causing her to hesitate for a second.

She’s really checking me out,
he told himself.
The first daughter didn’t do that. Saleema,
he repeated to remind himself of her name.

The third and youngest sister walked in, wearing lime green. She undid her
headdress to reveal her silky, long hair, with lighter skin than both of her older sisters. Her face was also more acute, like a European’s. But Khalif knew immediately that he would not choose her. She was the baby of the family, and she deserved to
remain
that way. Nor did she seem as stable in her stance.

“How old are you?”

“I am nineteen.”

“And are you ready to be married to an American man?”

Instead of looking down like Saleema had done, Ieesh cut an eye to her father. Then she looked back to Khalif and nodded. “Yes.”

“Are you
sure?
”

Her uncles began to chuckle at her instability.

She smiled, nervously. “Yes, yes,” she repeated quickly.

Khalif told himself,
There’s no way in the world she’s ready for marriage.

After meeting all three of Vinod’s daughters, his brother Shyam asked Khalif, “How come you did not ask Rani if
she
was ready to be married?”

Khalif smiled. “Because she’s the oldest. I was more interested in what her plans were for her future.”

“But her
future
should be with
you,
right?” the oldest brother Kumar hinted. “Unless, of course, you find one of
my
four daughters to be more appealing.”

Vinod chuckled at the obvious brother’s rivalry. “We will see,” he commented. “By the way, Saleema turns twenty-one, and Ieesh turns twenty later on this year,” he informed Khalif.

Khalif responded with a nod and a grin. “Okay.”

He thought,
This is something else. I could never imagine doing something like this in America.

When Kumar’s oldest daughter entered the room, she was dressed in much more elaborate garb. She undid her multi-colored headdress and introduced herself.

“My name is Sunita, the oldest daughter of Kumar Siyamesh. And I am very pleased to meet you, Mr. Muhammad.”

She was very formal, and beautiful as well. But her regal tone sounded a little
too
formal. And her tactfulness made her seem stuffy.

“Do you dream about picking your own husband one day?” Khalif asked her.

Sunita’s eyes cut to her father. “I, ah…what do you
mean?
”

Kumar frowned at Khalif himself. An arranged marriage was honorable. “I mean, do you have someone of your own that you are interested in?” Sunita shook her head and answered, “No. Not without my father’s blessing.”

Her three younger sisters seemed just as stuffy. And even though they had all worn tasteful and stylish saris and headdresses for the occasion, none of them really stood out past the oldest. They all lacked personality.

Maybe that’s their way of accepting an arranged marriage. Or either their father told them to be
too
respectful,
Khalif mused to himself. Either way, none of Kumar’s daughters had swayed his mind past Saleema or Rani.

When the youngest brother, Shyam’s, oldest daughter walked in, Khalif was rather worn out from it all. He had seen seven young Indian women, with two left to go, but he had already narrowed down his most logical choice.

Unless one of Shyam’s daughter is fabulous, I’ve pretty much already made up my mind,
he pondered.

When Shyam’s oldest daughter, Priya, walked in to greet him, wearing beautiful purple, Khalif was stunned by it. However, her
height
was so much shorter than his, that she immediately seemed like a little
girl
to him.

Instead of asking her how tall she was, like he wanted to, Khalif asked her his uniform questions. “How old are you?”

“I am twenty-one.”

“And are you ready to marry an American man for the rest of your life?”

She paused, smiled, and giggled. Then she answered, “I guess I am.”

Khalif felt that was cute, in an Indian Barbie doll kind of way, but definitely not as a first wife.

Her younger sister, Safika, introduced herself last, standing taller, thicker, and seemingly more stable than her older kin.

“How long do you plan to remain in India?”

“Until my husband asks me to leave with him,” she answered. But the sincerity of her answer seemed empty. It seemed as if she were reading from a script.

Khalif nodded at the end of the introductions and said, “Thank you. I have no more questions.”

As soon as Shyam’s daughter walked out of the room, Vinod asked his young American friend, “So, what do you think? What daughter do you choose?”

They all stared at him, ready for his answer. Khalif forced himself to pause. The open selection of a wife was still a foreign concept to him, and one that he needed to have patience with.

“Ah,
En sh’ Allah,
if you all don’t mind, could we all have dinner with your daughters without their headdresses, so that I may be around them longer to make my final decision.”

The Indian brothers all searched each other for their combined agreement. They then began to nod to his request.

“Sure, sure, we can all have dinner together like a family,” Vinod stated. “In fact, we’ll all sit outside with our wives and daughters and have tea, while the dinner is being prepared.”

That idea sounded even better. Khalif happily agreed to it.

“Merciful Allah,” he cheered. “That sounds
great.
”

Vinod then called to his housekeepers in their native tongue and told them all to set up the tables and chairs outside in the yard for tea.

“You drive a hard bargain, my friend,” Kumar commented.

Khalif laughed it off. He said, “It’s just a little hard to choose a wife after just an introduction and a few questions answered, you know.”

“Oh, I understand,” the Indian man responded. “It’s a lot different from the many years you spend with a woman in America, right?”

“Yeah,
if
they even
get
married in America nowadays,” Khalif quipped. “Shacking up
without marriage
is the new thing to do over there now.”

“Yes, my friend, shacking up is the new thing
everywhere.
But for old-fashioned businessmen like us, and followers of Islam, a man’s family still represents the stability of his fortune and his moral interests.”

“All praise be to Allah,” Khalif agreed with a nod.

When they all gathered outside on the soft, green grass of Vinod’s villa estate, Khalif was allowed to meet their Indian daughters again with their mothers, and even meet a few of their brothers who were present. It was closer to the family gatherings that he was used to in America, but without the bickering. And as the daughters hovered around him amongst the comfort of their family, while making their individual personalities felt, Khalif made certain to view Vinod’s daughters, Saleema and Rani, specifically.

Rani was the more busy of the two, socializing with her various family members, while Saleema spent more of her time standing still and watching.
Nevertheless, her glowing, auburn eyes seemed to cut back to Khalif whenever he moved. She also made certain to give him unobstructed views of her, while never turning her back to him to whisper like her cousins did. When he met Saleema’s attractive mother, Ramshicka, he noticed the second daughter had been the only one to inherit her mother’s auburn eyes.

“You’re Saleema’s mother?” he noted.

“Yes,” she told him and squeezed his arm. “She has a very strong personality.”

“And Rani?” he asked.

Ramshicka smiled. “She is now the oldest unmarried.”

Khalif analyzed their mother’s words quickly. Just because Rani was the oldest sister now, didn’t necessarily make her the most loyal to a marriage. She could likely be more loyal to her father and her Indian family, which she was already hinting at through her activities out in the yard. She barely even looked at Khalif, while her cousins gave themselves every opportunity to engage him.

Well, that makes sense,
Khalif reasoned.
Their cousins understand that I still have stronger ties to Vinod than I do with their fathers. So they would need to work harder to win my favor.

However, in contemplation of Saleema’s strong personality, she could also become more of a defiant wife to her husband, much like an American woman. So although Khalif felt the strongest affinity toward Vinod’s middle daughter, she posed a blessing and a curse dilemma for him.

The last thing in the world I need is another unruly woman. But I’m very attracted to her strength,
he admitted.

Al-Alim, the All-Knowing Allah, please give me a sign between the two daughters,
he prayed.

“Would you like some more tea, Khalif?” Kumar’s oldest daughter, Sunita, asked him kindly.

Indeed, the oldest daughter will be the more dutiful,
Khalif assumed.

He answered, “I thank you for your offer, but I think I should get my own tea while I’m still choosing a new wife.” Then he smiled at her.

He did not want to offend her father, Kumar, or lead Sunita on by having her treat him too kindly. He knew that she was not on his short list for a wife.

Sunita responded to him with a hum, “Nooo, you must understand, that
whether you choose
me
or not, any daughter you choose here today, and you will become part of the
family.
So it is not just about your
choice,
but it is about showing
kindness
to
family.
”

That made Khalif even more confused. At age twenty-five, Sunita was the
oldest
of all of the unmarried daughters who were there.

She simply speaks from diplomatic authority,
he reasoned.
But is that my sign? And am I choosing between the wrong daughters?

When Sunita smiled and left him, Khalif met again with the strong-eyed glare of Saleema.

Well, why doesn’t she say anything?
he asked himself of her frequent stares.
I wonder if it’s a shy sister thing. But if I make a move toward her first, then that would tell them all that I had chosen her, or at least that I am leaning in her direction.

So he continued to be confused. And the prolonged process of marriage was becoming more cumbersome.

Until finally, Saleema broke away from her cousins and began to head in his direction, only for her father to beat her there to Khalif.

“I understand how hard this must be for you, my brother. But you don’t necessarily have to make a choice today,” Vinod advised him.

Khalif eyed him, while watching his second daughter, Saleema, who was now in their vicinity. And he spoke to her Indian father frankly.

“Let me ask you a cultural question here,” he suggested in private tones.

Vinod nodded and grumbled, “Sure, sure.”

Khalif asked him, “If I am not to choose an oldest daughter for my first wife, then how would the oldest then take it?”

Vinod chuckled. “The oldest daughters are sometimes the most
logical
choice, but they can also be the
hardest
choice.” He said, “Ramshicka is the
third
daughter of my respected father-in-law, Prakash Adoni. And I chose her as my
second
wife because she was already used to being a younger sister. However, I also thought she was the most
beautiful
as well. So it all worked out well for me,” he added with a hearty laugh.

He said, “But I did not want to choose an oldest daughter to be my
second
wife. I assumed that that would cause many problems in my household. So, if you are indeed ready to choose a
second
daughter as your
first
wife, then let that be the only daughter you choose from that family, unless the next daughter is considerably younger than her.”

Khalif understood Vinod’s logic exactly. There was a cultural pecking order that he needed to understand and realize before he made his decision. And it all made sense. An oldest daughter is used to being
first
in line, in
every
culture.

Then Vinod shared with him in lowered tones, “But in
this
case, the second daughter would be a good
choice
for you. Sometimes the most loyal woman is the one who stays at home.”

He then looked Khalif in his New York eyes and added, “Although American men may admire the adventurous, traveling woman, it is the woman who understands how to solidify her own
home,
who often helps a man to establish the confidence and peace of mind that he needs to become more successful in his
business,
and in his
life.
”

With that said, Khalif thought about his ex-wife in America, who was a first-born daughter herself, and who had been spoiled rotten through a most destructive relationship with her mother. Khalif also thought of Ramshicka’s statement concerning
her
two daughters. And he felt he understood her comments better now. Where
Rani,
the older daughter, could very easily go astray on her own world missions, it was
Saleema
who was deemed as the stronger
home builder.
And her eyes were unwavering in what she wanted.
India
was her home and family.
Life
was whatever her family chose to do. And
Muhammad
would become her new family name.