Revolt Read Online Free PDF Page B

still some humanity in America even after 9/11!’ he mocked, looking away, afraid to lose himself in the depths of her grey eyes.
    ‘And there isn’t any here, Arslan?’ she enquired, sobering.
    ‘Well, I see no sign of humanity in this household!’ He had deliberately switched to Urdu, his eyes on his mother.
    The three sisters listened, spoons poised nervously over their food.
    ‘And you sisters are no better! Can you not make my mother see sense? Are your hearts made of stone, too?’ His accusing gaze transfixed them into silence.
    ‘Arslan!’ His mother’s aggrieved voice sliced across the table, watching Begum nervously hovering over Saher’s shoulders with a large dish of pilau rice weighing down her arms.
    ‘I’m not very hungry, Mother!’ Noisily scraping back his chair on the marble floor, Arslan strode out of the room, leaving the five women staring after him.
    ‘Rude boy!’ Rani sneered.
    ‘Saher, please go after him. You are good with him.’ Ignoring Rani’s hostile stare Gulbahar coaxed her niece, upset at her son’s reaction.
    ‘Arslan!’ Saher called. Hearing her footsteps, he ran up the marble stairs, taking two strides at a time.
    Smiling, Saher followed him up to the rooftop terrace with its elegant alcoves, wall niches, marble floor, and rows of earthenware -potted petunias and geraniums in full bloom, propped against the iron railings. Some bushes trailed over the railings, creating an attractive profusion of yellow and purple flowers.
    Saher pressed her hand on his shoulder.
    ‘Don’t touch me!’ Flinching, he rounded on her, ‘I’m not a child!’
    ‘I never said you were! I’m sorry.’ Alarmed, she stepped back.
    ‘Then why did you kiss me earlier?’ he asked, confusing her further.
    ‘Because I wanted to … and missed you!’ she stammered, trying to explain; she had followed the social custom of being able to kiss one’s own younger brothers and cousins.
    ‘I recommend that from now on you keep all your kisses for your fiancé!’ he jeered, bent on hurting her.
    ‘What’s wrong, Arslan?’ Saher was both shocked and offended. ‘Why are you behaving so strangely and saying such nasty things to me?’
    ‘I’m just reminding you about social propriety; that women in our culture do not go around kissing men or touching them physically unless they are very young or married to them or blood sisters! You are none of these!’
    ‘You’re being silly! You are like a brother to me!’ she retaliated, flummoxed by his reaction.
    ‘Does that make it legitimate for you to touch me?’ he snarled. ‘Why have you never touched Ismail?’ Cynically watching the tide of crimson colour flooding her cheeks, ‘Because he’s your fiancé, is that why?’
    ‘This is all mad talk! I’ll not touch you ever again, you silly man! I don’t know what has happened to you? Is this what America has turned you into? This horrible cruel beast bent on offending everyone?’
    ‘No, you’ll never understand! Leave me alone, Saher! Don’t ever touch me again!’ He turned his back to her.
    Then the fight went out of him.
    ‘Have you seen Laila?’ he asked, changing the subject. ‘I sawher earlier. Father publicly humiliated both of us and almost dragged me into the house. She just stood there … That look on her face, Saher – I’ll never forget it!’
    An awkward silence ensued.
    ‘But surely you know the score, Arslan?’ Saher lamely offered.
    He beamed his full wrath on her. ‘For how long is everyone going to go on scoring? Don’t you think she has been punished enough?’
    ‘I’m sorry!’ Saher stepped back, distressed at his pain. ‘Like you, I miss Laila.’
    ‘I’m sorry, Saher,’ Arslan shrugged, relenting. ‘It’s not your fault.’
    ‘It’s all right!’ She smiled as she always did, reaching out to him, but he gripped her wrist hard before it reached his cheek.
    ‘Arslan!’ she whispered, lost for words, her wrist hurting in his tight