Free English Lessons and Other Stories by Shauna Singh Baldwin

reminded me about our cousin Sohan Singh. He has a travel agency so we have to buy our tickets there, otherwise his father, Sardar Mohan Singh, will never speak to me again. He’s a good boy. I met him when he was about seven years old. He will give us a good price. What is this time-off? Oh. So tell your boss you have to get your sister married, he will give time-off; are you not the foreman? And when have you ever taken time-off? That was because you were sick. Tell him two weeks. It is very important.
    If you had not had a vasectomy, perhaps he could have found a daughter-in-law for me also — then my duty would be done. Achcha, baba, sorry, baba. I know you said the Congress workers took you to that sterilization camp, but I still can’t understand how they were allowed to make an operation before you had the chance to father even one son. Achcha, baba. I don’t know anything. I am just an old foolish woman who wants the best for her children. If your father was here I would not have any worries. Who listens to a widow?
PIYA
    There’s a falling silent in the hallways as I pass. The Chinese South African who works in the next office drops in for a technical discussion on the merits of different IBM clones and I am comforted. And as he is leaving, he says, as if imparting a warning — work hard. I will. I will. For now I am not only myself, but I am all of India and Pakistan and Bangladesh. I am a million and a half people sitting in one small office in Mississauga. I wear a label and will take pride in being a damn Paki.
BIBIJI
    Your brother is going to India, daughter. He has told me to tell you we will be going too. Why must he tell you himself? Am I not your mother as well? Typical Canadian, you got a new car, you think you can give answers back patak-patak like a firework. Too much freedom, that’s what I told your Bhaiya. A trip to India costs money. Still, he’s willing to spend it on you. He’s a dutiful boy — not like you, always answering back before anyone can even say, “Howdy Doody.” Achcha, daughter, where was I, you made me forget…
    Haanji, he is willing to spend two thousand dollars more foryou and me to fly home. Now two weeks time-off. That is all you have to get. You just started the job, so what. Can a girl work all day and night? Every day you drive here, fly there. Too independent, you’re getting. All week you came home late — are you seeing some fellow or what? Don’t answer back to your mother.
    It’s all settled. You will come with us. Bhaiya has said so, and I am asking you to be a good girl and listen to his wishes. If your father was here, he would tell you for me — but what can I do, one poor foolish widow. You have all studied in college how to answer back your elders; I have not. Drink your milk, now. I have made it with my own hands for you and it is getting cold.
PIYA
    It’s getting cold. Early December frost on my windowpane. We leave tomorrow. We’re all packed, and I called the airport taxi and asked for a Punjabi-speaking cab driver for the early morning ride. I told them I needed a leave of absence for two weeks. The boss’s eyebrows rose. Personal reasons, I said. The silence was triumphant, but I got the “time-off” like Bibiji says.
    Maybe India is just what we all need. Can’t sleep. The BBC should be on shortly.
BIBJI
    Sat Sri Akal to you too. Let an old woman sleep a little longer. What’s the matter? Not the flight? What happened? Who got shot? She got shot? Mrs Indira Gandhi? When? Early morning in Delhi — two hours ago. Who did it? Was it a Hindu — like the one who killed Mahatma Gandhi? What — a Sikh did it? Son, stop it. You must not show happiness — what will people say? Yes, yes, I know, the sterilization. But her sin was greaterthan a sin against one man, beta. Pride. A widow with pride. She thought even the house of God was her enemy. Cancel the