Akbar Khan looked up at his daughter. ‘Jia jaan, you know our ways well enough to know that women in our family do not have male friends, and you have brought one to the dinner table?’ he said. He waited for her reply but none was forthcoming. He softened his tone a little. ‘Bacha, speak to your father.’

Elyas, who had been poised for a fight and a barrage of abuse, was taken aback. The Pukhtun ways were legend in his home. His grandfather had been hard on his children, saying it was the custom of the ‘old country’ and the best way to instil discipline in one’s offspring. That Akbar Khan would be anything else had not occurred to him.

Jia reached over and touched her father’s cheek. ‘Baba jaan…’ she said. And Elyas saw a tender expression fall across his face. He listened to his daughter quietly, his head bowed throughout her explanations. He seemed like a good man, a just man, and Elyas wondered if there was any truth to the stories about Akbar Khan. When he finally raised his head, he looked down the table at his son-in-law, and Elyas was reminded of the oversized eyes of a maindak, but of course he could not be as harmless as a bullfrog. Jia finished speaking and Akbar Khan called Elyas towards him. ‘Bacha, come here.’ He patted the empty place to his left. Elyas did as he was asked.

He both feared and revered Akbar Khan. So when asked for his father’s name, Elyas answered in more detail than was necessary. His knowledge was sketchy and he found the names difficult to pronounce, but Akbar Khan seemed impressed with his effort. He smiled and patted him on the back. ‘Good, good. I am pleased my daughter has chosen to marry into such an honourable family. Even if the manner has been a little less than honourable. We must correct that oversight and organise an official wedding. I know you have already had your nikaah, but in my house that is not enough. I am a forward-thinking man but many in my family are not. I do not want them to point fingers at my daughter and her honour, you understand?’ Elyas nodded. ‘Then write down your parents’ name and address on here and leave the rest to me,’ Akbar Khan said. The scribbled details were taken gratefully by Akbar Khan and slipped into his shirt pocket.

‘He’s probably going to have me beaten up,’ Elyas had said half-jokingly to Jia on the way over, ‘and then thrown out of the house.’ Akbar Khan had done neither. Instead he had only smiled.

After the meal, Akbar Khan said he had much to attend to, and stood to take his leave, his son-in-law following suit. Akbar Khan placed his hand on Elyas’s head. ‘Kor di wadan!’ he said as he kissed him.