Brick Lane Read online

  It was late afternoon when she had decided to open her eyes and participate in her life once again. By way of celebration the girls stayed up long after bedtime, and Chanu became a clown. He gave an account of his mishaps in the kitchen and, in a re-enactment of a slip of the knife, hopped around holding his thumb. At night he had been sleeping on the very edge of the bed to give her 'room to breathe'. He demonstrated just how he had rolled onto the floor on the first night, and his acting out of befuddlement was gifted. Shahana rolled her eyes but she smiled despite herself. Bibi, more formal, applauded. Nazneen smiled and wound her hair into a knot. Her arms felt heavy as she lifted them, and her legs ached. Resting, it seemed, had made her unbearably tired. The feeling returned to her that there was something she ought to be thinking about.

  'I'll get up for a while.'

  Chanu shook a finger at her. 'Did she not hear the doctor? Bed rest. That's the prescription.'

  'But I've been in bed so long. I want to get up.'

  'She is disobeying the doctor. What a lot of trouble she will be in.' Chanu smiled so hard that his cheeks were in danger of popping.

  Nazneen wondered why her husband spoke of her as 'she'. If she had more energy, she decided, she would find this irritating. She marshalled her resources for getting up, and ignoring Chanu's continued admonishments.

  The sitting room crawled with toys, clothes, books and abandoned kitchen utensils. A pack of toilet rolls stood on the table; five tins of baked beans nested on the sofa. Attempts had been made to unpack shopping bags, but at some stage between bag and cupboard each attempt had foundered. If a bag had been emptied, it lay on the floor and gaped at the mess. Emergency rations of food marked the path from door to sofa to table. Nazneen picked her way across the room without comment. It gave her some satisfaction. For years she had felt she must not relax. If she relaxed, things would fall apart. Only the constant vigilance and planning, the low-level, unremarked and unrewarded activity of a woman, kept the household from crumbling.

  Chanu picked up a shoe and a packet of felt-tip pens. He put them on the arm of the chair. 'The girls are on school holiday. What can you do?' He shrugged and shook his head, helpless in the face of this natural disaster.

  Nazneen went to the window and looked out at the orange glow of the lamp-posts. The light was sickly; poisonous. She felt a memory gather like a lump in her throat, a thing without substance but with an undeniable presence.

  Shahana looked out of the window with her. A group of children, ten or twelve years old, came round the corner and lined up along the wall as if they had taken themselves prisoner.

  'There's Aktar,' said Shahana, 'and Ali.'

  'What time is it?' said Nazneen.

  'Almost eleven o'clock,' Chanu told her. He came up to the window and worked his lips and eyebrows into expressions of disapproval. 'Why do they let their little children roam around like goats?'

  'They're not little children,' said Shahana. 'And Ali's got ten brothers and sisters. His parents don't want them all inside all the time.' She tossed her head to get her fringe out of her eyes. 'They'd only get on each other's nerves,' she added, with feeling.

  'Ah, it's Overcrowding,' said Chanu, dropping in the word in English. 'Overcrowding is one of the worst problems in our community. Four or five Bangladeshis to one room. That's an official council statistic.'

  'Anyway,' said Shahana, 'it's not that late. Most people are allowed to stay up later than this.'

  'What? Later than this? Going around in gangs, late at night and not one book between them. What do you think these goats are studying? What are they learning?'

  Shahana's face began to shut down. She turned away from the window.

  Chanu recalled that this evening was special. He put his arm around his daughter.

  'Calm, calm,' he said. 'Doctor's orders. Don't let your mother get excited.'

  Eventually, Bibi began to yawn. Chanu sent the girls to bed and lay down on the sofa nursing his belly. Nazneen regarded the room and fought the impulse to tidy up. She sat very still to allow the memory to form.

  'I have to go back to work,' said Chanu. 'Does she think she could cope without me?'

  Nazneen saw her sewing machine. It was pushed to the back of the table, half hidden behind a pile of books and a cardboard box.

  'Oh, work,' she said and jumped up. She looked in the box. A nest of zips, still waiting to be sewn into some jackets.

  'She can't work,' cried Chanu, twisting his head round. 'The patient can't work.'

  'I was supposed to finish these last week.'

  'They'll have to wait.'

  Nazneen leaned against the table. She felt dizzy and sick, the same way she felt when she once tried to smoke a cigarette with Razia.

  'That's it,' declared Chanu. 'She's going back to bed.'

  But it was Chanu who, after further third-person remonstrations, removed himself to bed. Nazneen could not be budged. Memory returned to her like a tidal wave and she had to stay on her feet or else drown. She walked around the room picking up any object, without knowing what it was or where she put it. When the floor was clear she began rearranging the things she had moved, grouping them promiscuously, deranging as she arranged. Karim had been here. He had come and come again until Chanu was suspicious. And the girls. The girls knew. Or Karim had not been. Worse. He had come and he had been suspicious. Why would she not see him? He would not come again. This was good. No. It was bad. At least it was an end. But how could it end like that, without her there? And if it had ended, why did it ever begin? If that was all that would happen, then why did it happen at all? He would come again, and she would explain. Or perhaps, she would not explain, and that – that – would be the end. She would end it. But she could not. When she saw him, she would not be able. She was not strong enough. And, anyway, it was not for her to choose. When would he come? Would he come?

  Exhausted, she collapsed in the cow-dung armchair and picked the stuffing out of a hole. She made herself think more slowly. For each five breaths, she said to herself, you are allowed one thought. She counted them out. Karim was supposed to come on Tuesday, when the girls were going to a friend's house for the afternoon. She blew out each breath as hard as possible. He would have come straight up, because he had another batch of sewing for her. On the in-breaths she filled up her lungs from the bottom until she felt the pressure beneath her collarbone. Or he looked for her in the window, and walked straight past. She raced through her next set, shallow intakes through her nostrils. What did it matter, anyway, what had happened? The important thing was what would happen now. The importance of it stole her breath altogether and she gasped and gulped at the air.

  You are nothing. You are nothing. She rocked back and forth. The words offered some relief from the overwhelming, crushing significance of it all. She got up and took down the Qur'an. She looked for familiar passages, the words that she knew that would give comfort. In her panic, she could find none and the words on the page kept her out, hid their meaning and pushed her away.

  She went into the bedroom and observed her husband heaped in the middle of the bed, listened to his innocent snores. Then she found the letters, bundled together and wrapped like holy relics, inside her underwear drawer, and took them out of the room.

  By the frugal yellow light of Chanu's reading lamp, she absorbed her sister's words, her exhalations. When she had finished she smoothed the pages over and over, as if by this action she could transmit to Hasina all that she felt. She sat for a while, in peace.

  June 2001

  I tell to Lovely about Monju everything how she end in hospital. At thirteen year age she marry and have baby When is seven day old husband want to sell the child.

  Lovely say 'We must get her some help. Let me see. Maybe State Farming for Reformed Addicts. Very good Charity all the best people on committee. Is she addict? Do you think she can reform?'

  Only thing Monju think of for seven years is son Khurshed. Only thing she do is beg. 'Hah' say Lovely 'that
s what is wrong with this country. Money has to come from somewhere. Lets say she beg from me. Where do I get the money? Lets say I beg from my friend. Where she get the money? Lets say she get it from her friend. Where she get the money?'

  I think to say from the husband. But I keep my mouth close.

  'See what I saying? Money has to come from somewhere. That is why all the Charities now do stress the work-and-skill.' She shake her pretty head. 'Money is not the answer.'

  Monju refuse to give up child and man throw acid on baby of seven only days. Slow slow it coming out the man involve for child traffic to India and his sister is suffer four year imprison for same offence also. All money Monju beg pay for two operation for deform son.

  Lovely was get ready for going out. She trying on clothes and I putting back on hanger and put away again. She stand by mirror in underwear and pinch two little handful of flesh around the sides. It look like she want to pull it off. When she hear about Khurshed she sit down. 'This country' she say very sad. 'I always dreamed of leaving.'

  Then she jump up and move very quick and her voice come sing-song and her eyes come bright. 'What about Goats for Life? Special project for women only. Only last month UK Academic coming here to study results. Many per cent improvement in these womens motivation and self esteem. How is your friends self esteem? Often it is root cause of poverty. Low self esteem.'

  Sister she go out then for Pantene Head and Shoulder show at Sheraton Winter Garden. It is competition know as You Got The Look. Girl and boy have get prize for best hair and best Look. Lovely say it show a development in this country and also give confidence to young men and women to achieve target in life. One of winner is girl only five feet in height and not model to international standard but Lovely can make allowance. Maybe come improvement in judging standard by next time of competition. When she was away and children take nap I walk around her room and touch everything put hand on bed on embroider elephant hang on wall on table is made marble on silk clothes on all bottle jar perfume jewellery. I begin touching and think – everything beneath her hand feel different. When she touch it how different it feel to her. But now I dont know. I think I was wrong.

  Zaid has start creep up behind me and shout Hiiiiaaah in ear very loud to make jump. Then he smile and say 'Surprise is weapon. Remember that when you attack.' What I is attacking? I ask him. He just smile and begin his kung fu leg and hand. Little Jimmy chop on back of my knees so I must either sit down or fall. Baby Daisy also shouting Hiiiiaaah but surprise is not on her side.

  July

  Sister the money you sent have arrive thanks be to Allah. Do not be angry I took to the hospital and pay for Monju for clean dressings on the body. It hurt the nose to smell her. It hurt the eye to see her. Most it hurt the heart to know her.

  When nurse come with new dressings Monju tried to make protest. 'Already all this money wasted. Keep it by for Khurshed.' But she can only whisper a little and she helpless to move so it was done.

  She have save nearly nine thousand taka for next operation. That is why the husband burn her. She would not give to him the money.

  Now money gone to save her life and all she think is how to get more for the boy. This eat into her more painful than acid.

  Baby Daisy back tooth come. All time she want I carry her. When I putting down is like sentence of death. She scream. Yesterday I walk around veranda is only place she like yesterday. She put head on shoulder and close eyes. If I stop walking she open eyes very wide and shock. It too too hot outside but I also like veranda too. Did I tell how nice the house? Is paint pink like your fingernail. On veranda is long chairs for resting whole legs and cover with green and white stripe cushion. There is kingfisher on roof. He sit on parapets and call and call. Fly away and find some water I tell him. But he do not fly just sit there never stretch the wing and call like as if all his brothers better join there on roof where he find some secret like paradise.

  Garden is fade into brown only next door garden of house where Syeeda work still green. Near drive is coconut tree which long time now dead. Zaid is suppose cut down this tree but he sit inside reception room with Jimmy watch the kung fu film. I watch kingfisher and he looking down at me. Through rose arches (Lovely proud like anything of all her rose even now of course they flower have finish) I watch men mix cement for new building is know as summer house. They have two little boy for fetch water carry brick and thing. Even when they not carry anything the boy move like old men heat press down on them.

  Daisy after long time fall asleep and I sit down with head still rest on shoulder. Back of head is curls. If you see these curls! How pretty the face. I kiss her with very care. I feel like hold the breath sometime when I look at Baby Daisy. Is like have soap bubble on the hand catch light with thousand beautiful colour.

  Zaid come out and he say 'Dont make the mistake. She is not for you.'

  He has bruise on jaw colour like brinjal and cut on left arm above elbow.

  I do not like him then. I put my lip against the curls and I think how it feel when Lovely do this same thing. It different for her I think. This time I am not wrong. When she touch the marble table the Italian chair the jamdanis in her wardrobe the peacock feathers in silver vase she feel how easy they slip from out her fingers. She must get as much as possible. Make as safe as possible. But when she touch her lips to babys head then she know what she has and this she cannot lose and I can never have.

  July

  Something bit change in your letter. First time now I know more how the girls grow how different one daughter and another. Sound like your husband have very good job with taxi full time take him round all the place.

  Lovely have had entertaining dinner for Betty and she husband. Only two people come but many days preparation you imagine is Bangabandhu return to earth and honour house with presence. Lovely wear special trouser sparkle everywhere look like make from crush diamond. Betty wear yellow sari and Lovely say after even best one can trip up in fashion.

  I serve food and care children go in and out from kitchen. Men is talk all election and plastic bag.

  Betty husband say 'Look like if BNP come to power they push the polythene ban through.'

  Husband James get red in face and speak with very control voice. 'That is what so wrong with this country. Nobody want progress. In New York and Paris and London you think they carry shoppings in jute bag? No! Is all polythene.'

  Betty and Lovely is look bored. They make show of this. Yawn and roll eyes. In an actual fact they are bored but also they must pretend they only pretending.

  Betty husband say 'One hundred and twenty-nine million plastic bags produced each day in Bangladesh. One hundred million used each day. I dont know. Is it progress?'

  Husband James say 'What the hell is problem? All this hug-a-tree types saying plastic bag block the drain cause the flood ruin the farmland – but something gone wrong in their heads. Four thousand people work to make these bags. It put food in their mouth. These hug-a-trees they prefer to see dead body block the drain.' He sitting up really straight now and bang fist on table.

  'Awami League is also in favour of ban.' Betty husband say this and Betty put hand on his arm. Lovely smile has come a little bit stuck round the mouth. She play with hair and say my husband fames know everything about plastic.

  Late in evening I put children to the bed and go to kitchen. Lovely still entertaining the friends but dinner is finish. Zaid make some dhoie. The children like for breakfast. The cook say do you hear them how they talk? Politics is this. Politics is that. Turning noses up twitch arse like cat step through puddle. All strike and violence and guns and stabbing and this thing and that. Like as if had nothing to do with them. But this is system. And who has made the system? Is not the labourer. Is not the beggar.

  He little man of wire. Did I tell? You can fold up and fit in pocket. But he do not look like weak man.

  I ask him again which side he is support for politics? He tap the head and say 'My side.' Then he tell me. He su
pport whoever give pay. So far is Awami League Bangladesh National Party and Jamaat-e-Islami. All is think they hire muscle but this muscle have brain attaching also.

  He have save up much money and then he plan what to do. He have many idea. One idea is food stall for office worker. Good standard. Other is restaurant for family dining. He is also look into possibility of train for kung fu actor. Another idea is set up as fixer for sending people to foreign country for working there. Only expense is needed a mobile phone. Do you know how many taka for going to foreign country? One hundred and fifty thousand taka. And that is not for good country. For going to Singapore much more is need.

  One time he think to go himself to the overseas. But he say – what do you get when you come back? Spend three four year never see one chink sunlight all work work work and come back with fridge and television and when electricity die every evening time then you take hammer and smash whole bloody things into piece. He know one woman sell her plot land for send her son to Singapore. Three years he work construction site and when he come back he do not have enough to buy back land. He know another woman who see job advertising in newspaper and go to Malaysia. She sew clothes from eight in morning to ten in evening seven days out of seven. This she do for five year. When she come home husband have spend all money she sending and all she have is debt.

  If you go say Zaid you got to know what you coming back for. While you away who going to build anything here? I tell him about you husband and how he have big job and everything. He say 'How long he been Londoni?'

  I think it more than twenty year.

  Zaid for first time I see look impressed. He slice the air a little. 'Then its worth it. After twenty years he can come home build his own town where everything work like it meant to.'

  August

  I go again to College Hospital. Lovely say Oh be a sweet girl and take the darlings with you. I tell her bit how Monju look and dont say anything how she smell. Lovely cover the ear and say sometime you feel like stop the Charity work because nothing is ever enough.