"COLOUR OF CHANGE"

That bloody old man was out of his fucking mind!!!

By now Adam had learned to expect the unexpected, but even he had been totally unprepared for this new turn of events. He was seething with fury and frustration as he sat impatiently on the uncomfortable bus seat next to an old Indian woman holding onto a ton of what looked like groceries in her lap.

How long had it been since he’d sat in this particular bus heading for the one place in London he despised above all others. Unfortunately not long enough.

“Excuse me.” The old woman said as she lifted her enormous bulk from the adjoining seat. Adam swiftly rose to his feet and let the old rhino pass, ordinarily he would have helped her with her payload but today he decided to forego all social niceties.

The bus hissed to a stop with a drunken jerk as the woman wobbled her way towards the open door near the drivers end.

Adam once again sat down, this time on the window seat and gazed beyond it to the view it awarded. West Ealing, looked about the same as it always had, cramped, busy and dull. The same old small Indian, Pakistani and Afghani shops with a lonely little Woolworth’s or BHS thrown in here or there. Adam had always found it amazing how different this place seemed from South Kensington where he rented his flat. The further the bus lumbered on the worse the view got, for it seemed as if London had been left far behind, the surroundings resembled a mini Lahore, or Delhi or any other South Asian crap heap.

Turbaned, bearded Sikhs ambled across the sidewalks next to short dark women wearing a tent worth of clothing in the form of sari’s or shalwar something, he didn’t even remember what the ridiculous dress was called.

For the thousandth time he cursed his fate for saddling him with the Paki connection. Why couldn’t his father have been from some other country instead of friggin’ Pakistan? Well it was no use blaming his genes he thought with a frown marring his handsome face he had to deal with his problems the only way he knew how, that is by steamrolling them.

Unfortunately for him though, his problems or PROBLEM was in the form of one very short, very skinny, and very stubborn old man, namely his illustrious Grandfather Afzal Shah, sole owner of Shah and son’s and the unyielding, maddeningly eccentric patriarch of the Shah family.

Ten minutes later Adam disembarked from the crowded bus and made his way swiftly towards Elmsway Street, his bally shoes clicking a furious beat against the concrete pavement. He barely noticed his surroundings or the people around him. Here among the countless nationalities and colors of alien cultures Adam stood out like a sore thumb, a six foot two Gucci business suit wearing sore thumb that is. He barely noticed the strange looks the people around him were giving him, from the crafty ones of a few young Asian men loitering about on the pavement (no doubt wondering if his wallet was as well endowed as his appearance suggested) to the frankly covetous, lingering glances every woman from twelve to fifty sent his way. Oblivious to his effect on the indigenous population Adam walked up Elmsway Street, his stride picking up steam as his quarry came within sight.

“Hello Adam. How are you? ” Stopping, Adam jerked his gaze towards the old woman who had just emerged from a two story semidetached house to his left, exactly identical to all the other dull houses on this stretch of narrow street.

Her name was Nabeela and she was an old neighbor of his grandparents, an exceedingly annoying neighbor who had often dangled her endless array of Bengali nieces and granddaughters under his nose like ripe luscious fruit ever since he had turned twelve.

Adam cringed inside wondering what the old biddy wanted now. She was huffing and puffing towards him with all the bulk and determination of a train barreling towards its station. Hoping to forestall yet another barrage of questions pertaining to his unmarried status at the scandalously old age of thirty-two no less Adam quickly took evasive action. Pasting a smile on his face he addressed her without breaking step.

“Oh hello Mrs. Basu,” He called out pleasantly, waving to her, ‘sorry I can’t chat I have to see aba, you know how he hates to wait.”

With an inner sigh of relief he saw the old battle ram stop at the front of her gate, looking like the cat (a very fat cat) who was watching the canary fly away. “Oh alright, but you must come to visit once you see your grandparents.” She chirped in syrupy tones. ”My niece has just flown in from Dhaka and I would love for you to meet her.”

“Not on your life!” Thought Adam, not that he had the guts to say that out loud. “Well off course. So long Mrs. Basu. Give my regards to your family.” And with those final words Adam sped away hoping none of her Grandmothers other cronies were around. No such luck though, he had to voice similar greetings to at least six other geriatrics on his way to his grandparents home. Why the hell did their house have to be at the end of the street Adam wondered for the thousandth time.

God it was like walking through a time bubble, everything here was the same, from the stained pavement to the semidetached houses to the unkept front lawns. Finally he reached the small wooden gate that bordered his grandparent’s house. Opening it quickly he approached the door.

Adam rang the doorbell and grimaced when a weird sound very much like a Bollywood film tune echoed throughout the inside of the house. No doubt the latest Hindi Masala Hit.

The door opened slowly revealing his grandmother. Adam smiled the first genuine smile he had smiled that day. It had been almost a year since he had last seen her, and she looked just as she always did. Her small plump body garbed in a colorful red sari, white hair bound in a braid which was still pretty thick considering how old she was. Age hadn’t marred her; instead it had given her small heart shaped wrinkled face a timeless grace. And her smile as she looked at him through shining dark eyes could still melt an iceberg.

“Hello Ama” Adam said with heart felt warmth “I see you’re still the bombshell of South hall.”

“Shush you naughty boy.” She said with a chuckle giving him a hug, her small head barely reaching his shoulders. “I haven’t seen you in so long. Let me look at you.” She stepped back and ran a critical eye from his head to his feet. “You are too thin.” She admonished without a seconds hesitation, clucking disapprovingly about his penchant for restaurant food.

“And you are still gorgeous.” Adam replied, grinning broadly “where is Aba?”

Raunaq saw the way his eyes chilled when he asked the question. With a feeling of trepidation she led her grandson towards the lounge. Even though she had feigned delighted surprise at his arrival she knew why he was there and she suspected that he knew that too. Raunaq had always doted on her only grandson showering him with all her love. For she saw in him all the fine qualities that her own husband possessed, unfortunately they also shared the same temper and mule headedness.

Adam followed her into the dark house and felt as he always did when he came here, completely out of place. The paint on the walls was dark red sprayed with gold roses, while the kashmiri carpet running up the stairs to the three bedrooms above was the same one he had run up with muddy shoes as a young boy countless times. The large gaudy crystal chandelier that hung from the roof of the small hall completed the completely unfashionable look. Turning left through a door at the end of the hall brought him into the lounge cum dining room and face to face with the reason for his visit.

His Grandfather was sitting calmly on his favorite leather arm chair. His thin angular face a mirror of innocent surprise. Adam surveyed him for a moment noting that he too hadn’t changed much. He still had short, receding grey hair that was plastered over his head like a second skin. Age had added countless wrinkles to his striking hawkish features but time had done little to mar the intelligence that blazed out of those small brown eyes that gazed at him from underneath bushy white brows.

“Hello Aadum” drawled a slightly mocking voice from the leather armchair “To what do we owe this pleasant surprise?”

“You know damn well what you owe it to aba. “Adam growled angrily as he strode into the room carrying his briefcase, which he promptly threw onto the closest chair.” What in God’s name was that message you gave father.”

Afzal stared at his grandson nonplussed, his heart swelling with pride as it always did when he looked at him. Afzal had religiously followed his grandson’s every success from his academic achievements in Oxford to his exploits in the business world; Adam was the light of his life. He was every thing his father Asad was not. Strong, resilient, brilliant and also compassionate, for even now Afzal could see the boy was visibly controlling his anger because of Raunaq, who was looking from her husband to grandson like a frightened gazelle looks at a pride of lions.

“You’re a smart lad, I am sure you have it all figured out.” Afzal mocked, hoping to keep Adam angry for he knew his grandson, he had been staring at a smaller version in the mirror everyday for the past eighty years, and like himself Adam was at his weakest when he was angriest. And Afzal was going to use that weakness against his incensed grandson for he was determined to win the most important deal of his life.

“Oh I have it figured out all right.” Adam sneered, “What I don’t understand is your gall in thinking I would ever go along with your plan.”

“Maybe I’ll put on some tea,” Raunaq chimed in nervously, rushing out of the room towards the kitchen. Adam looked at her retreating back sympathetically, hating to upset her, before turning his fiery blue gaze on his grandfather. Who seemed as happy as a gentleman in a posh British club with his damn cigar.

“Oh you’ll go along with it alright.” Afzal said in a steely voice, his words heavily laced with his foreign accent, looking very much like the business tycoon who had come to England with nothing but empty pockets and big dreams “You know the consequences if you don’t.”

Adam Stared at his foe sitting on his throne with negligent ease, in a room which looked like Lahore had thrown up in it, thinking desperately of what to do next. In frustration he ran his big hands through his short wavy black hair, tousling it. When he caught the old man’s smile he saw red.

“If you think I will be blackmailed you really are senile. You must be mad to think I would agree to this scheme of yours,”

Afzal knew he had to tread carefully, for he knew Adam was close to being angry enough to stamp out of the house and he needed to make the kill before that happened. In a conciliatory tone he inquired.” Why is it crazy, things like this happen all the time. It’s not a new concept you know.”

“Well it is to me.” Adam shouted “You’re talking of an Arranged Marriage for Gods sake and it’s not even with a British girl, it’s with some brainless Paki chit.”

“Is that how you see your country women, brainless chits,”

“They are not my country women for heavens sake, I am British.”

“Half British” was the swift rejoinder “although you do hide your so called “Paki” roots well with those fancy English suits you always have on.”

“I AM British damn your eyes and I absolutely refuse to marry someone I don’t even know.”

“You can dress a wolf in sheepskin but he will always remain a wolf. And you will always be a Pakistani whether you like it or not.” Afzal replied drolly “furthermore you will do as you are told; it seems to have slipped your mind that I still control the company.”

“I am the company and you damn well know it. I have spent the last twelve years dedicating every second to that company while you have been sitting in your ivory castle enjoying the fruits of my labor.” Adam raged, thinking of all the time he had wasted making Shah’s and son into the multinational conglomerate that it was, only to be rewarded with this.

“Neverthless i own it, and there's nothing you can do about it.” His grandfather shot back implacably.

For once Adam didn’t know how to proceed, he had thought fighting it out with the old man would get him results but he knew his grandfather and he recognized the belligerent jut of his jaw. The old man was fully prepared for battle. Adam contemplated legal action for a moment but he knew he couldn’t prove his grandfather to be incompetent. Besides the courts would throw his case out when they learned that millions of pounds of revenue would fill the coffers of various London Charities. “His Millions” Adam thought with angry disgust, millions he had worked for all these years, all his future plans and aspirations would bite the dust just because of an insane whim.

In utter frustration Adam sank into the closest chair, an uncomfortable, bright yellow abomination that had tassels hanging off the arm handles. Right now Adam had the urge to rip them off, but unfortunately that would get him no where.

Short of murder there was nothing he could do to get the old man to see reason. Adam wasn’t particularly worried about his grandfather’s threat to disown him for he knew that ultimately that was a hollow threat. No matter how much the old man said he would do it Adam knew his grandfather would never be able to carry out his threat. It was all a God Damn bluff! But there was still a nagging worry in Adam’s mind that the old man just might be callous enough to do it, and it was this worry that was forcing him to try and reason with his unreasonable foe.

Trying to get a hold of his emotions Adam turned his head and looked out of the large bay windows at the uninspiring view of the quiet street outside, as if that might provide him with some answers.

“At least look at her pictures,” Afzal said from across the room his tone both hopeful and conciliatory,” She is the granddaughter of one of my closest friends in Pakistan. Like us their family also hails from N.W.F.P. Her Grandfather studied with me in Aligarh University before the partition and both of us set up our first business together in Karachi before I came to this country. We have remained in touch ever since…………”

“Please spare me your nauseous trip down memory lane. Frankly I don’t give a damn.” Adam snapped. His jeering tone making Afzals eye’s narrow with anger and his thin shoulders stiffen imperceptivity.

“Well it seems to me you should be interested with my “Nauseous” trip down memory lane, after all you are the one who is getting married to his Granddaughter.”

“God Damn It! What do I have to say to reason with you? Have you even stopped to consider how the girl you are so eager for me to wed feels about this? How can you expect her to fit in with my life style? For Gods sake man we are from totally different cultures.”

“I suppose you will both have to compromise a bit, that is what marriage is all about.”

Adam bounded to his feet once more, “How the hell would you know anything about compromise, you have never compromised on shit in your whole life.” He exploded, his face flushed, nostril’s flaring.

“You will remember to keep a civil tongue, young man. Your grandmother is in the house.”

As if on cue Adam heard a tea trolley being dragged towards the lounge from the kitchen.

His jaw ached from the effort he exerted to control the string of invective he yearned to hurl at his grandfather’s head.

“Well what about me then? Have you stopped to consider that I might be interested in someone else?”

Afzal laughed mockingly which further ignited Adam’s ire, “Oh Please Adam, this is not the time for jokes.” He chuckled,” If you had found someone else you wouldn’t have been spending 12 hours a day cooped up in your office. All you have ever found my boy is release for your baser instincts.”

“My private life is not up for discussion.” Adam said stiffly. Fully aware of what his grandparents thought of his sexual dalliances. If it had been up to them, they would have married him off to his first girlfriend. “And furthermore I don’t need lecture’s……….”

“Oh come of it boy,” Afzal interrupted “Marriage to a decent girl might just be what you need.” The subtle emphasis on the word decent left little doubt as to what he thought of his grandson’s usual bedmates.

“I am through discussing this. Whether I get married or not is none of your damn business.”

Very calmly Afzal picked up the bunch of papers lying on the side table next to the leather arm chair and held them out towards Adam, a bushy brow raised mockingly.

“What the hell is that?” Adam asked eying the papers with suspicion.

“Why it is a contract my boy, listed on these papers are the names of the charities I intend to leave my money to. I have even included PETA, you always did liked animals. Just think of all the animal hotels a few million pounds worth of capital will provide.”

Speechless Adam stared at the papers, shaking with impotent rage. He picked up his brief case and bounded out of the room, not trusting himself to keep from strangling that manipulative old traitor. He rushed through the hall without a backward glance. Not daring to turn back even when he heard his grandmother’s soft voice calling him.

“What have you said to the boy?” Raunaq asked her husband accusingly, rushing into the lounge with the tea trolley in tow “You know how angry he can get.”

“Do I?” Afzal replied chuckling. Not in the least put out by his Wife’s disapproving expression. For once even the prospect of the inevitable lecture could not dampen his spirits.

“Congratulations my dear, your grandson will very soon be a married man.” Afzal drawled and then promptly burst into laughter.