It's All Relative

Saad and his mother were seated at the dinner table. Sakina was invited to a henna party but had made sure she cooked for them before she left.  Saad asked his mother to pass the vegetables.

"What no lamb pasindey for you?" his mother enquired in horror.

Saad responded that the meat wasn't tender yet and that it needed another few minutes in the pressure cooker. Saad's mother nodded in agreement, whispering that she hadn't liked to mention it to poor Sakina.

"She works so hard," the older lady stated "Now I would eat the okra too but it is a little salty."

Saad took the stubburn, overly tough meat dish and returned it to the stove for further penance.He had been waiting for the right time to ask his mother something.
"Qasim called while you were reading Quran. He is vacationing in Lucknow and wants to know if he can stay at the house."

His mother started tying her dupatta tighter around her chin as though it was prayer time.

"That good for nothing badmaash?" she returned in a shrill voice." Wants to stay in MY house?"

"If it's ok with you." Saad said, gazing at the sputtering iron weight on the pressure cooker.

Soon a familiar steamy whistling sound was projecting from the stove area. A carnivore's favorite tune. Sakina walked in and had learned not to even question what went on in the kitchen when her back was turned. She had a rolled up New York Times in her hand and was tapping it against her thigh causing a dozen sequins to leap off her outfit, sati- style.

"Have you heard?" she enquired opening the newspaper up. It says here that India is ranked below SAUDI ARABIA for women's rights."

Saad was becoming used to his wife's feminist rants.

"Well think about it" he replied, turning down the heat on the stove."Female fetus abortions, widow suicides, child brides- should I go on?" 

Sakina had sat down at the table, put some okra in a plate and was polishing it off with a fork.

"I  know- but come on but us Indians have to aim a little higher" she said between mouthfuls. "Saudi Arabia?A place where women still can't drive or vote?


Saad explained that it was probably women in lower economic circles that were throwing off all the statistics.

"Wait, I thought you said most of your Lucknow cousins are becoming liberated, educated, financially independent, all that stuff." returned Sakina, tossing a napkin into the trash.

"It's a broken system, Jaan- corruption, patriarchy, over population-where do you even start?" he sighed, placing a sprig of celentro onto the newly tenderized, completely penitent pasindey.

Saad's mom wanted to join the conversation but was not sure how. 

"About my nephew, Qasim" she interjected. Do you know how long he wants to stay there?"

Saad shook his head and asked his mother why she needed to know while carefully placing a steaming dish onto a cane tablemat.

"Well," the septagenarian elaborated, prodding a piece of  lamb with a fork to test for tenderness.
 "He pesters the servants- oh yes, don't think that he's easy going about food like you and me. No, no, he has to have his favorite dishes made for him. The nerve of that boy. Takes advantage of me because I'm his only surviving aunt."

Sakina put down her fork with a small clang, looked at one face, then the other in disbelief:

"So wait, he's more demanding than either of you about food??? Forget the Saudis. Now THERE'S an achievement.  

With that she threw the New York Times into the recycling bin and drove off to the henna party.