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his room with the garland around his neck.
    Arslan nonchalantly walked to the marble fountain, cooling his hand under the spray of water in the large basin where as a toddler, dressed only in shorts, Begum used to sit him down and let him splash around. His gaze shot up to the roof terrace where as a young boy he used to play kites. As if reading his thoughts, Begum strolled over to caress him on his cheek, gaze softening with love.
    ‘Master Arslan, you’ll get sunstroke standing out in the heat. This is not America.’
    ‘You’d be surprised, Begum. It gets really hot in the summer in the USA. Sometimes your skin begins to peel off!’
    ‘Really!’
    ‘Really!’ he mimicked, bursting into laughter and splashing her with a scoopful of water as he used to do as a child. Shrieking, she stepped back wiping her wet face. Begum was still his favourite person, the woman who successfully weaned him out of many of his childhood sulks.
    ‘Master Arslan, your two aunties have been waiting for hours. And have not eaten yet. Poor things didn’t want to disturb your sleep. Guess who else is here?’
    She paused, her eyes fixed on his face, anticipating the telltale tide of colour that would sweep his cheeks at the mention of a name.
    ‘Saher,’ she whispered and delightedly watched the colour jump into his face. ‘Has America whitened your blood, my handsome prince?’
    ‘No, Begum, it’s still very red and warm! The American experience has given me an insight into another world and another way of thinking about my life, that’s all. On the whole I loved my stay and study there. Made many friends and learned a lot about equality and celebration of diversity.’
    ‘So you find our ways are not to your liking any more, Master Arslan?’ Begum drily quipped, disappointed at his response.
    ‘No, Begum, let’s say we beg to differ! Shall we go and meet my dear ladies?’ he gruffly offered, not in any mood to debate further about his life in America, its virtues and its vices.
    As soon as he opened the dining-room door, his eyes sought Saher, joy rushing through him. Her face lighting up, she strolled over and planted a kiss near his mouth, shocking him into stillness, cheek smarting and eyes hooded.
    ‘Well, our prince returns!’ she teased, smiling, fingers resting on his bare arm and voice warm with laughter.
    ‘My handsome graduate nephew returns!’ His Auntie Mehreen gathered him in her arms.
    ‘Yes, Auntie, a fully-fledged American postgraduate with a PhD – for whatever that’s worth here,’ he corrected, sauntering over to Saher’s mother, Rani, who had remained sitting at the table, frowning at her daughter’s action in kissing Arslan. She lightly patted him on his shoulder; the cool awkward smile did not quite reach her eyes. Inside, Rani was recoiling from the look she had glimpsed in his eyes as they fell on her daughter.
    ‘The rascal!’ she fumed under her breath. Why didn’t anyone else notice it? Just as well, for her daughter’s sake!
    ‘Come and sit down, my beautiful son,’ Gulbahar stiffly requested from across the room, her eyes shying away from Laila’s garland around his neck. ‘Your aunts waited to eat with you.’
    Arslan pulled out a chair for Saher before sitting next to her at the table.
    ‘Gorgeous as ever!’ Leaning over he whispered into her ears, as his aunts busied themselves with the food. Blushing, Saher looked away from the wicked glint in his eyes.
    ‘And America has made you a very impudent
badmash
man!’ she retaliated, punishing him for his unwanted compliment.
    A shadow crossing his face, Arslan spoke in English so that his mother and aunts could not follow their conversation.
    ‘Things have become really difficult for some of us again as a result of recent events. Many innocent Muslims are detained and questioned, including at the airports.’
    ‘OK, let’s not talk about that now but it’s so good to have you back,’ she warmly smiled.
    ‘But there was