The front door flew open as I began walking down the stairs and Ma rushed to greet Malik like he had been gone for ten years as opposed to ten days. He looked well: tanned and a little bit rounder in the face. It suited him and I went over for a hug once Ma was done gushing over how much she missed him and why hadn’t he texted her more often. My parents barely looked at me when I returned from my sleepover at Dina’s house. Trust me, only other South Asian girls know what it’s like to be the eldest daughter with no other sisters and a princely younger brother. I had it better than some – and I supposed others had it better than me – but there was no denying that in our culture, sons are often revered. Daughters are loved, but that little bit less. You got used to it, I had got used to it. But if I ever got married and had both a son and daughter, I swore to make sure that the love and chores were distributed equally.
‘Wow, who is this person and what have you done to my sister?’ Malik exclaimed, appraising my new khaki co-ord; a vast improvement from my usual stained, woolly onesie.
‘Ma used the same expression when I offered to help with the cooking the other day,’ I responded dryly. ‘So your lines are the same as our almost fifty-year-old mother.’
Malik grinned, kicking off his shoes and leaving them haphazardly in the hallway. ‘Last week I would have said something about you looking like a fifty-year-old mother, but I guess I can’t do that anymore. How the hell did you pull this out of the bag?’
‘It’s amazing what cash to splash and an entire day spent in Selfridge’s can do,’ I said, following him into the dining room, where I had laid the table earlier. ‘How was your trip? And more importantly, how was the company?’ I gave him a giant wink as I said this and he glared at me.
‘It was epic,’ he said. ‘Thai food is so good and so cheap and I got a Thai massage every single day for less than a tenner.’
‘Sounds like bliss,’ I said wistfully. I had barely travelled. My parents weren’t big on holidays. Baba visited Bangladesh every few years, once he had saved up enough. He spent thousands whenever he went because he gave a lot of money to his vulnerable relatives there and then there were presents for everyone he visited. The huge cost meant that he couldn’t go often and he certainly couldn’t take us all every time he went. I had only visited twice as a child myself and I could barely remember either trip. As for other holidays, I tried when I was at uni and the answer was a firm no. Girls shouldn’t travel abroad alone. According to them, it was too unsafe and I couldn’t remember what the other reasons were because I was so livid at the double standards; Malik had just returned from a boys’ trip to Spain at the time. I hadn’t bothered to try again. Fighting for what I wanted to do wasn’t in me back then.
What if Noah had travel plans on his list? If he did, this time there was no way I would let my parents stop me. And if it wasn’t on the list, I was going to do it anyway.
After our super indulgent dinner, Ma and I cleaned up while Baba and Malik relaxed in the living room; Baba chewing on crunchy betelnut wrapped in bright green paan leaves, his biggest weakness. I could hear the low murmurs of their voices and when I came in with mugs of tea and a plate of mishti, they fell silent.
‘What’s going on? Kita oiseh?’ I asked suspiciously, eyeing them both.
‘Kichu nai,’ Baba said. At the same time Malik said, ‘Baba’s got another biodata for you.’
‘I’m not interested,’ I said immediately, before another word could be spoken on the topic. ‘Not after what happened last time.’
‘What happened last time?’ Ma asked, entering the room and sitting down with her own mug.
‘I’m not interested, Ma,’ I repeated, this time my voice taking on a slightly pathetic, desperate tone. ‘I trusted you last time when you told me that I had autonomy over whom I wished I pursue, but it was all a facade. The minute I said no, you both turned on me and gave me hell! I’m not going through it again.’
‘“Whom”,’ Malik mocked, chuckling over my choice of words. ‘“Facade”, “autonomy” . . . I like that one.’
‘Shut up, Malik!’ I scowled at my brother. It was all right for him. He could do whatever he wanted without everyone getting their lungis and dupattas in a twist.
‘Look, Maya,’ Ma said calmly, using the same voice she reserved for difficult children at school. ‘We were shocked last time, which was all. Zakariya was perfect in every single way, we didn’t understand why you were rejecting him.’
For the hundredth time, Ma and Baba began reeling off the list of all the reasons why Zakariya was so great. He was educated. Successful. Handsome. Tall. From a good family. He had his own property (ignoring the fact that he didn’t live in it and still lived with his parents). He was nice. Polite. Respectful. Fosha – aka ‘light-skinned’.
‘Oh, here we go,’ I muttered. ‘Maya is too dark, her complexion is too dirty to find anyone decent, she should be grateful.’
‘I’m not trying to be evil, Maya, I’m saying it how it is,’ Ma continued, ignoring the fact that I was putting on a rude, mimicking voice. ‘You know what things are like in our culture. You get judged on the colour of your skin. The darker you are, the harder it is to find a good proposal. That’s the way things are, there’s no point in burying our heads in the sand.’
‘Ma, you can’t be serious,’ Malik piped up, this time looking genuinely affronted. ‘Plenty of my Bengali and Pakistani friends are with girls darker than them. Who cares?’
‘Love marriages, that’s why,’ Baba scoffed. ‘But it’s the parents of the grooms who see the biodata first and if they’re not happy with any part of it, the groom won’t get a look in.’
I listened to them go back and forth, my insides churning with nausea, anger, sadness.
‘Are you going to give me a bottle of Fair and Lovely again, Baba?’ I finally said, trying to contain the emotions stewing inside of me. ‘You know that cancer-causing concoction full of chemicals that you gave me when I was sixteen?’
Shortly after I sat my GCSEs, Baba came back from Bangladesh and along with the customary cotton shalwar kameez from Aarong, there was a bottle of the skin-lightening cream that my aunts had sent for me.
I was mortified.
I had grown up hearing comments about my offensive skin tone, how it was such a shame that Malik had inherited the fairer gene, how it was a great pity that I looked more like my dad than my mum, how it was so strange that Pretty and Pinky were whiter than me, though their mum was darker than mine.
‘I’m sure I didn’t,’ Baba protested half-heartedly. ‘And anyway, if I did, I was only trying to help you.’
‘You didn’t use that crap, did you?’ Malik demanded, looking at me like he was disappointed.
‘I did,’ I shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I used it for two years and it dried my skin so much that it began to crack. I guess that’s how they made you fairer, by dehydrating your skin.’
‘I can’t believe you did that,’ Malik muttered. ‘You’re crazy. Why would you?’
‘Of course you can’t believe it,’ I snapped back. ‘How would you know what it’s like to be me, Prince Ali, Fabulous He?’
‘What the hell are you on about?’
‘Aladdin? Oh, forget it. All of you can forget it.’
With that, I got up and left the living room, leaving behind my tea that had now turned cold and held no appeal.
‘I can’t believe you made me do this stupid diet with you,’ Lucy growled at me on our first day back at the office after the holidays. Admittedly, she didn’t look as great as she usually did, more tired and less glowing, even though she had just got back from holiday. The same went for me, but that was my default setting anyway.
‘I’m pretty sure you said something about wanting to try this “programme” for a while?’ I replied airily, gently placing my new work bag on the desk. ‘And speaking of supporting me and my journey . . .’
‘NO, Maya! I am NOT doing another one of your crazy activities! This list is your thing, not mine. Yes, I’ll support you where I can but if I don’t want to do it, I’m not going to, OK?’
Gosh. Hangry Lucy was so different from sweet, funny, full of bread, cheese and pasta Lucy. I guess I would have to ask Dina if she fancied trekking Snowdon with me. And there was always Malik if I really got desperate.