‘You barely know him, Inaya. He seemed harmless enough.’

‘You don’t know that, Daada. He was on the same Heathrow Express train as us, and he was being all weird, so I had to put him in his place.’

Habib shook his head in resignation. The voices from the next room were growing shriller by the minute. Habib switched on the television in an attempt to drown them out.

‘You know, Inaya, women are marvellous creatures—one of the greatest creations of the Almighty,’ said Habib. ‘But I have to admit that I’m possibly more grateful to the creator of the television.’

In the background, the voices of his wife and sister-in-law rose to a crescendo, but Habib blissfully tuned into the rather more subdued sumo wrestling tournament in Osaka.

War of the Roses

Since their arrival in London, Inaya had attended four warm-up games at the cricket nets in Regent’s Park with the rest of the Curry Cruisers squad, and although she had been apprehensive at first, the side had bonded surprisingly well.

Today was another warm-up game for the Curry Cruisers, and since the sun was shining brightly, Humaira and Adeela decided to accompany Habib and Inaya to the practice grounds. As they walked through the park, Adeela provided a running tour guide commentary.

‘And these are called Queen Mary’s Gardens. Look at those beautiful roses, Humaira Aapa.’

‘Pah! We have better roses in Rawalpindi,’ scoffed Humaira.

‘Oho, of course!’ said Adeela. ‘How can anything here be better than Rawalpindi?’

‘You are basically a gaddaar, a turncoat,’ retorted her sister. ‘Nothing in the country of your birth is good enough for you any more, is it?’

‘Well, I’m not defined by where I was born,’ said Adeela pointedly. ‘I’m happy anywhere on this beautiful planet of ours.’

‘All these newfangled ideas of yours will get you nowhere, Adeela,’ said Humaira. ‘This . . . vegan thing and doing yoga and belonging to the planet—all this will only leave you without any true identity.’

‘Uff, just listen to yourself, Humaira Aapa. Are you making any sense? Tell me, does your identity begin and end with belonging to the country that you happened to be born in?’ demanded Adeela. ‘To me, that seems like such a limited way of experiencing the world.’

Humaira decided not to dignify her sister’s biting remark with a response, so she just upped her walking pace instead, channelling all her fury into her feet. Meanwhile, Inaya and Habib were in a quandary as to whether they should catch up with Humaira or stay in step with Adeela.

‘Could I please join you for practice to escape this?’ whispered Habib to Inaya, who muffled a chuckle.

‘What time will your practice be over, Inaya?’ asked Adeela. ‘I’ve booked us a table for lunch at Nabeel’s Kitchen . . . ’

‘Oh yay! Their haleem rolls were so good that day! They were totally worth the wait!’ blurted Inaya.

‘When did you try their haleem rolls?’ asked Adeela.