Free Hot Pink in the City by Medeia Sharif Page A

comforted by me listening to their stuff."
    I laugh. My parents also think I listen to
devil music. My mom tells me that if I listen to too much radio,
it's the same as worshipping Shaitan. I don't even listen to Ozzy
or Metallica or anything like that. To my mom, excessive music
listening pulls me away from all things religious and spiritual.
Music might not be religious, but it is spiritual. I want to sing
and dance, but my parents don't allow me to try out for the
cheerleading squad or audition for the glee club after hours. I
want to see Madonna at Madison Square Garden, but I don't want my
uncle to have a heart attack and then call my parents so they can
have heart attacks too, because what if I get kidnapped or there's
a shootout or stampede or God knows what else at the concert -- as
if that really happens at every concert.
    "Uncle Javed is cool," I agree. "I bet he
won't even mind if we dub an Umm Kulthum cassette if we were to
find one."
    "Absolutely not. I've copied tapes there
since he has more stereo equipment than Dad does," Nasreen says.
"Okay, so my bratty brother may have gotten out of this one and I
didn't really want to go anywhere tonight, but now we have a
purpose."
    "Yes, a purpose."
    "We erased Kulthum, but we'll find her
again," Nasreen says, as if we lost an actual person. But
considering how people love her and she's Uncle's favorite singer,
it's like there's an actual absence in the household. And if Uncle
were to find out, he'd mourn over that cassette.
    "A Kulthum we will go."
    "A Kulthum we will go."
    "Hi-ho, the derry-o, A Kulthum we will
go..."
    "That's enough," Nasreen says, squeezing her
eyes shut. "Your voice is making my ears bleed."
    "My singing isn't that bad," I say.
    Nasreen snorts. Negative girl. But we'll do
something positive tonight.

Chapter Ten
     
    I thought I was done with subway rides for
the day, but Uncle, Nasreen, and I make the journey to Queens.
Sitting on orange and yellow chairs and staring at multiple
surfaces covered in graffiti, I jostle against Nasreen and Uncle,
who reads The New York Times . His fingers are inky from
reading newspapers all day. News is his crack-cocaine, what with
his newspapers and shortwave radio. We've been fortunate that in
the past few evenings he's either been visiting friends or
listening to international news on his radio. Maybe he forgot about
Umm, or perhaps I overestimated how much he likes her.
    "When we get home it'll be late," he says,
putting his newspaper in his lap. He smoothes his moustache and
yawns.
    "Well, we don't have to be making this trip,"
Nasreen says, barely audible above the chugging wheels of the
train
    "I'd like to watch TV," I say. Nasreen pokes
me in the ribs and I yelp. "I mean, I can't wait to watch TV in the
morning, because when we get home it'll be bedtime."
    "Yes, we'll all be tired tonight, but before
I sleep I'd like to listen to some Umm Kulthum. I only have one
complete tape of her beautiful voice. Her voice brings peace."
    I close my eyes, the sinking feeling in my
heart deepening, but there's a light at the end of the tunnel.
Uncle Javed has a stack of music, and we'll be mining through that
collection tonight.
    Leaving the last subway station makes me
breathe a sigh of relief. From basement apartment to the subway,
I've been feeling like a mole person lately. I want sunlight and
fresh air. The sun is still out in the late evening, and I bask in
the glory of a full moon I spot between clouds and buildings. We
walk up some porch steps, where Uncle Javed lives in a narrow
townhouse. There's the pulsating sound of music from inside the
house. When someone opens the door, tabla drums of old-fashioned
music reach my ears. I'm not into my parents' music, but I admit
some of it makes me want to dance.
    Javed welcomes us in. He's tall, tan, and
clean-shaven. He's at least ten years younger than Uncle Farhad. He
smells of something strange and pungent. Nasreen whispers, "He's
been drinking."
    He's known to do that.