Rashid gave me a wicked smile. “I would be honoured to attend. I have the perfect costume to wear: a sherwani suit with curly-toed shoes, a turban, and a string of pearls. Your friend will tell everyone I am a Mughal prince.”
The Mughals were a Muslim dynasty that ruled Southeast Asia for over three hundred years. Their empire had dissolved in 1857. I wasn’t too sure about my alleged aunt, but Rashid was definitely growing on me.
Chapter Eleven
Mom knew about the restaurant. Apparently Brother Musa had informed her, and she wasn’t bothered. Not by the sudden appearance of Kawkab Khala, not by our new competition, not by anything.
“You’ve never mentioned Kawkab Khala before,” I said.
Mom shrugged. “Yes, I have, except I never called her Kawkab. She started using her given name after her husband died. We know her by another name.” Mom looked uncomfortable. “It’s a pet name, and I don’t think she likes it. We used to call her Billi Apa.”
Billi Apa! Billi Apa was legendary. She used to go horseback riding around the neighbourhood in India at a time when demure young women weren’t supposed to engage in unladylike physical exertions. She played poker at the men’s club. She would smoke hand-rolled cigarettes she bought off the servants. She was an older cousin Mom’s family would visit during the summer, and the stories my mom had recounted about their adventures over the years were epic. Such as the time Billi Apa dressed up as the local imam and gave a sermon about the importance of buying your wife expensive weekly gifts. She knewhow to shoot a gun and only ever wore pants. She was so wild her parents had sent her to an English boarding school, where she learned to swear in French, English, and German.
Her parents were wealthy landowners and she was their only child. Billi Apa had been my childhood hero, and I had dreamt of one day meeting her. Except I would have had to travel to New Delhi because, my mother assured me, she never left her massive property. Until now.
“Did you know she was coming?” I asked Mom.
“She is always welcome.” A polite way of saying no.
“What about the new restaurant opening up? What are we going to do?”
This time Mom stopped chopping coriander and chilies and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. Wisps of greying hair escaped her black hijab. “We don’t have to do anything. There is enough business here for everyone. They will attract attention at first, but things will settle. You will see, Hanajaan. It will all work out.”
Her eyes looked around at the kitchen as if she were trying to reassure herself. We were all counting on her—Baba, Fazeela, Fahim, me, and the cantaloupe. I thought back to Lily’s assurances that Mom was the smartest, most hard-working person she knew. We would survive. Inshallah.
“I’m sure you’re right,” I said to Mom, and then asked if Rashid and I could go to the BOA meeting.
She nodded. “Fazeela usually goes, but you can take her place. It will be good for Rashid to come along and see how we do things here. Make sure you take notes on the festival. I want to know what they are planning this year.”
Every year the Golden Crescent BOA put together a summer street festival for the neighbourhood. It was pretty low-key stuff. Thebusinesses all chipped in for bouncy castles for the kids and set up tables outside to sell food and merchandise. Mr. Lewis gave away free coffee and doughnuts, Luxmi Aunty served a variety of homemade snacks, and Three Sisters offered food for sale. It was a fun, intimate community event. I promised to take copious notes and report back.
AS EXPECTED, MY ALLEGED AUNT/NEWLYrevealed childhood hero commandeered my bedroom as easily as she had claimed shotgun on the ride home. The couch was even more uncomfortable than I had anticipated.
I woke up for the pre-dawn fajr prayer at four-thirty a.m. without having to set an alarm, thanks to the lumpy cushions. Baba was already sitting at the dining table, the light low. On the nights he had trouble sleeping, he stayed up to read the newspaper, work on his puzzles, or listen to the radio. I gave him a side hug when I passed by to makewudu, the ritual purification before prayer, and he looked up in surprise, removing his headphones.
“What are you doing up at this hour, Hana?” he asked.
“There is an intruder in my room,” I whispered.
His eyes widened, then relaxed at my mischievous smile. “Your mother and I were very close to Kawkab Apa when we lived in Delhi as newlyweds. She helped us quite a bit when we first settled in Toronto. She is a wealthy woman. Your mother borrowed money from her to open the restaurant.”
I hadn’t known that.Maybe she’s here to help out again, I thought hopefully.
“She hasn’t left Delhi in years,” he continued. “Whatever has brought her all the way to Canada must be very important.” Baba looked at meand smiled. “I am glad you got a chance to meet. You are so alike. We are lucky she has agreed to stay for a while.”
I groaned inwardly.A whilecould mean weeks, maybe months.
“You are being a good host, and I am happy to have the company,” my father said. “The house hasn’t felt this lively in a long time.” With my aunt, Rashid, and Fazeela, he was right; we were full to bursting. Maybe the company would be a welcome distraction during my father’s isolated days.
After I madewudu, I prayed fajr in the living room. The couch was more comfortable when I returned to bed—someone had added extra cushions. Baba’s head was bent over the local news section.
“Thanks, Baba,” I said drowsily. I wanted to tell him some good news. “Thomas pitched a show to Marisa that she liked. He wants me to help him with it.”
The smile on Baba’s face wiped away my doubts. “Alhamdulillah!” he said. “What will your show be about?”
“We’re still figuring that part out,” I hedged. “But it will be about faith, culture, and identity and the role it plays in the city.”
My father nodded, thoughtful. “If you do this and your superiors like it, perhaps you will get a full-time job. Security is important, Hana. Don’t discount a job with a steady paycheque, some health insurance; you can begin to plan your future. And more opportunities will come, especially if you are pleasant and cooperative. I already know your talent will shine.”
