Chapter Nine: Passengers

After much debate, my decision on who is to ride with whom en route to mum's village has been approved and people hop on board their respective vehicles although some not quietly.

Intentionally speaking loudly within earshot of me, I overhear some aunties and uncles whinging especially Goldie, about how a child has called the shots and although I visualise jumping on top of them and throttling them laughing manically as I do, surprisingly - I manage to show much more restraint and ignore their waffle.

Sure, they may feel they have the right to travel with mum in the ambulance, but honestly, there was only enough room for 5 people and there was no way I was going to give those places up to just anyone - besides, unlike the ambulance, other vehicles had better suspension and far superior air conditioning so really, I was doing them a favour.

Obviously, Dada expected me to say myself and my sister were to ride with mum but even when we spoke in Asif's room and made the infamous list, I could tell he was curious as to who I deemed worthy.

Before I said or did anything though, he had already preempted that he and Dadi were better off travelling in the luxury 4x4 seeing as they were both over 65 and it was a 12 hour trip and had written that at the top of the the list...whether he meant that or he knew I would not choose him to be there is something I guess I shall never know.

Still, not having to go through the motions of saying to him he could not travel with mum was a relief. Offending the big man would be the last thing I would want to do seeing as he had organised everything and all dad had to do was pay up as and when needed. Plus, Dada was the closest thing to a father mum ever had so all in all, if he wanted to ride with us of course, he could have - would have...perhaps even, should have!

My reasons for not wanting to pick him were purely selfish in that despite all of his wit and charm, being the ruling elder of the family travelling for 12 hours with him and having to watch what I was saying would seriously have been a ball ache! I and my sister both wanted people with us who we could relax with and just be ourselves with without having to watch ourselves...as much as possible that is under the excruciatingly painful circumstances.

Also, if he travelled with us, then Dadi would also be there and that I did have a problem with.

Large to the point of making Jabba the Hut from Star Wars fame look like he had been on Weightwatchers, Dadi was not the most liked person in the family but for some bizarre reason was always treated with utmost respect. Truthfully, this was probably down to a combination of things: everyone's unwavering love for Dada coupled with genuine fear of the things she was capable of doing to ruin people's lives politically, financially or just generally by influencing the right people in the wrong way - including poor Dada.

And this was something none of us Khans could stand, especially mum.

Dadi regularly manipulated others to suit her needs - offering to do favours for people on the promise of abusing Dada's power but once getting what she needed, almost invariably never delivering on her promises. Even worse was her habit of poisoning Dada's mind against his side of the family - convincing him how they were all after his money and authority - even us living in England!!!

Mum really hated having to be the only one strong enough to speak up against Dada and Dadi but it was so frustrating for her to somehow reach over the seven seas and make Dada see sense whilst everyone else was too fearful to correct him even when they knew the truth and that he was wrong about members of his side of the family.

If I had to be brutally honest, mum despised Dadi and that is the bottom line. Even before she became terminal, she regularly told us, sometimes in anger and other times with tears, of all the time she had lost between brother and sister whenever they fell out over issues mainly because of Dadi.

"Issues that could have been settled with just one word from Dada...asking Dadi to hold her tongue..." mum used to say, but when she started fading away all she could do was cry about it.

Now?...Now it was far too late.

After all, Dada would never be able to get that time back with mum would he? Never make up for all the errors or arguments, never be able to say sorry...never be able to kiss mum on the forehead like he always did whenever he saw her every few years when she visited Bangladesh or he visited England.

Time that should have been spent laughing and joking together wasted in trying to soothe hurt feelings being harboured by one another or worse, being lost all together. Such a shame that a great man like Dada, who had the strength to fight for the freedom of his country could not find it in himself to fight for his family. But such is life - full of disappointment and regret!

But I digress.

With two places taken by my sister and I, and another three to go, you would have thought dad would be in that equation but alas the poor guy opted out or more precisely, I opted him out due to a bad back which had been flaring up regularly during the long flight and then intermittently since landing - a point he only revealed to my sister and I when getting freshened up!!

I had noticed dad seemed to be limping at times but ignored it as him feeling tired or not wearing comfortable footwear, but upon him confessing his "extremely poor health" and that he was "older than mummy...due to die soon", the last thing I wanted was hypochondriac dad taking ten tonnes of painkillers to overcome his pain but then end up laid up in bed half asleep due to the over dose of drugs! Don't get me wrong, I sympathised with him and appreciated he was in pain but knowing him, what would other wise have been a dull pain for someone else, had become a potential life-threatening ailment for Dr Khan so I needed to sort the guy out with a break before he buckled even further under the pressure and the pain.

If I had a choice I would have asked him to get into a different vehicle, but due to the state he was in and the sheer comfort level of Dada's 4x4, I instead found myself forcing dad to leave the ambulance to us and ride with Dada and Dadi..."Mum, if you're watching - I'm sorry about this", I think sheepishly.

As such, along with the usual suspects of the Junior Khans, Tanny, my cousin Neema and mum's favourite sister Poppy take their seats beside us with mum laying still in her secured coffin, and with a few honking of horns, calling of names up and down the convoy by Goldie (who seems to have now adopted the look of an American tourist - cap on sideways, cropped trousers, a ghastly coloured vest and sunglasses bouncing on his chest), we finally set off.

As Dada's house disappears in the distance hidden behind a cloud of dust being thrown up by the poorly tarmacked roads, I look around the ambulance as Tanny sits next to me solemnly and does not say a word. He had asked me several times before we set off whether I was sure he should be given the privilege to travel with us, confusion and worry written all over his face then and still showing now, as he saw other family members getting into their designated vehicles and staring daggers at him especially Goldie, but my answer was simple and elegant, "Let's see - you've been in my life consistently since I was 9? Those people - never! So fuck 'em!" and with that, I pushed the guy into the ambulance.

Tanny and I are sitting on a bench seat running directly along the side of mum whilst the ladies are sitting with their backs to the driver's compartment where the driver and his navigator can be seen by me through a little glass hatch chatting away but we cannot hear them over the siren blaring and the intermittent honking of horns to clear the road of beggars, rickshaws and vehicles driving the wrong way on one way roads!

My sister is leaning on Neema's shoulder - eyes swollen from her tears as are Neema's and Auntie Poppy is draped over mum, sobbing gently, her head covered with a white shawl.

I first look at Neema as she props my sister up and think about how she must be feeling. Equally tall as her brother Asif and just as fair with unusually bluey grey eyes, Neema was as gifted albeit a little more sane than Asif and I think to myself how strong she has been and what fantastic support for my sister since arriving at Dada's whilst I was off doing manly things at the Mosque.

Having been so close to Asif (you'd be hard-pressed to tell that they were not twins by the way they acted and behaved) and then having him snatched away, I knew she would appreciate the pain we were going through but also understand our need to want space and not be constantly bombarded with such daft questions as "why are you not crying every other second - don't you miss your mother?" or stupid comments when we eventually do cry such as "you must not cry - the spirit of the deceased wonders the Earth for up to 40 days before they pass on to paradise so if you cry, they will see and it will upset them!".

That along with the fact that she had practically become mum's adopted daughter having to move to London to study her masters and then doctorate shortly after Asif passed away - with mum fussing over her, calling her every few days and sending her food packages - meant that Neema was guaranteed a seat with mum who loved her so much so.

Auntie Poppy on the other hand was chosen as despite being from a family of 8 brothers and sisters, she was the only one mum spoke to almost every other day over the phone and the one mum never fell out with! They were so alike in the way they were and that meant mum could share things with her that she never felt she could with others. Only 5 foot 2 but quite fair, Auntie Poppy was a lady with a small demeanour but a huge heart and was extremely creative to boot. She had also had a real fire in her belly to succeed in what ever she wanted to do - a trait she always praised mum for bestowing on her.

The similarities between mum and Auntie Poppy have always been freakishly uncanny, probably because mum's mother died when Auntie Poppy was only 5 so mum being 12 years older, was her main role model when growing up; the only main difference would be how soft she is overall when compared to the battle axe which was thy mother!!

I turn to watch Auntie Poppy as she sobs endlessly, now hanging off mum's coffin - my sister and Neema constantly rubbing her shoulders and back to help calm her down - and begin doubting whether asking her along was the best idea knowing full well that unlike my sister and I, or even Neema who was in England for some of the time mum was hospitalised, she had not had time to get used to mum deteriorating and eventually pass away.

It perhaps did not help that the last words she had with mum seemed to give no indication that mum's body was finally giving up. A mere four days before mum left us all, mum mustered up some energy from God-only-knows-where despite being on a morphine drip, to tell a distraught Auntie Poppy to "stop crying over the phone - OOOOf!!! You always cry...you're too soft little one!" and that as Auntie Poppy was struggling to sort a Visa for herself to come visit us in England, "Once your brother-in-law actually gets off his bottom to get his doctor friends to do their job and fix me up, I'll sort you out in no time".

Because of this: mum's never ending resilience to the doom that always tried to subdue her, Auntie Poppy never actually felt as though mum had any plans to leave us...if anything, she always joked around with us when we were down about it all that with the stamina mum had, she would probably live forever!

Tears try to edge their way over the cusp of my lashes as I reminisce of the despair in dad's voice when we talked about who should tell her mum had gone and how wrong she was about mum's immortality. How eventually, I took the bull by the horns and volunteered to do the wicked deed and dug deep to find the courage within me and let her know the news over a fucking telephone!

It was heart wrenching.

The screams followed by the sound of Auntie Poppy collapsing on to the floor thousands of miles away from us...well, that sound will stay with me forever.

"Still, mum would have wanted her here and though seeing her pain is fucking killing me, I'd rather go through that than not have her here with us" I feebly try to reason with myself, "...I hope it brings you some peace mum - knowing your little one is with you on your journey home, along with all your children...and Tanny...yeah, guess you weren't expecting him were you?!"

The last part manages to bring out the faint remnants of a smile across my face but that quickly dissolves with pangs of guilt in my mind reminding me that this is not a happy occasion.

I begin to look away from Auntie Poppy who is now being group hugged by my sister and Neema and spot Tanny checking whether mum's bindings have got loose through the constant shaking of the ambulance from the uneven roads. I motion to him to see if he needs a hand but he tells me to relax.

I lean back on the wall of the ambulance and gaze out of the rear window as the ambulance gently rattles away, the silhouette of the city scape slowly fading away into the red sunset with each shake being replaced by huge palm trees - the ever increasing greenery replacing the scenes of towering buildings and chaotic traffic and the contrast looks serene and beautiful.

I sigh deeply and keeping my glance fixated, I lean over to touch mum's coffin, "I'd forgotten how beautiful it could be out here mum...thanks for bringing me to the ball."

And with that, I look around at mum's passengers one last time and resting my head on the wall, let myself drift away for what feels like the first time in an eternity.