Chapter 9
"Yaar, take the subway, and go to Munhawtun." Uncle Jehanzeb said to me.
I knew there was something he wasn't pronouncing right. Maybe he was trying to say Manhattan. The way he said it reminded me of some place in inner city Lahore. I had heard of Bhati, Lohari, and Mazang. Maybe this is what we had called Manhattan, if it was in Lahore--Munhawtun.
I was at Uncle Jehanzeb's store. He didn't own it. He only worked there. It was a long and narrow store. As soon as you entered the store, there was the cashier's desk on the left hand side. Uncle Jehanzeb stood behind the desk with cartons of cigarettes on his back. On the right hand side, there was a big rack full of magazines with naked women on their covers. The coolers were further down with beverages and beer.
"But I am afraid of going there. I've heard bad stories about it. I heard there are black men there that mug you and shoot you." I replied.
"Oye no yaar, I tell you where to go. Its not that bad." He insisted.
Before he could convince me more, a white couple walked in.
"Good morning! How you doing?" Uncle Jehanzeb became alive.
"Oh great. How are ya?" replied the man.
Each of them bought a pack of cigarettes of their liking and they both paid separately. Then they left.
"See, they were husband and wife. They come here everyday. They buy cigarettes and they both pay separately. This is how life is here. Did you see?"
I didn't really want to go to Manhattan. I had heard too many bad things about it. I had heard that people walk there with needles of their AIDS infected blood. They threaten to sting you and rob you of your money.
I stepped out of the store and roamed around. I could see a city with very tall buildings. Maybe that was Manhattan. It looked beautiful. I had slept well the night before. The jet lag had already gone. Uncle Jehanzeb had made me good food. He had also called his travel agent friend to buy a ticket for me. I was going to Texas.
I knew there was something he wasn't pronouncing right. Maybe he was trying to say Manhattan. The way he said it reminded me of some place in inner city Lahore. I had heard of Bhati, Lohari, and Mazang. Maybe this is what we had called Manhattan, if it was in Lahore--Munhawtun.
I was at Uncle Jehanzeb's store. He didn't own it. He only worked there. It was a long and narrow store. As soon as you entered the store, there was the cashier's desk on the left hand side. Uncle Jehanzeb stood behind the desk with cartons of cigarettes on his back. On the right hand side, there was a big rack full of magazines with naked women on their covers. The coolers were further down with beverages and beer.
"But I am afraid of going there. I've heard bad stories about it. I heard there are black men there that mug you and shoot you." I replied.
"Oye no yaar, I tell you where to go. Its not that bad." He insisted.
Before he could convince me more, a white couple walked in.
"Good morning! How you doing?" Uncle Jehanzeb became alive.
"Oh great. How are ya?" replied the man.
Each of them bought a pack of cigarettes of their liking and they both paid separately. Then they left.
"See, they were husband and wife. They come here everyday. They buy cigarettes and they both pay separately. This is how life is here. Did you see?"
I didn't really want to go to Manhattan. I had heard too many bad things about it. I had heard that people walk there with needles of their AIDS infected blood. They threaten to sting you and rob you of your money.
I stepped out of the store and roamed around. I could see a city with very tall buildings. Maybe that was Manhattan. It looked beautiful. I had slept well the night before. The jet lag had already gone. Uncle Jehanzeb had made me good food. He had also called his travel agent friend to buy a ticket for me. I was going to Texas.
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