Bitter Sweet Harvest Part 2

Mei Yin went to her husband; she laid a hand on his arm. She could feel the rage coursing through the muscles of his arms.

"Please Ming Kong, Siew Lin was my very best friend when I was a child. Her mother sent me to school. It was her mother who introduced me to your family. Had it not been for her, I would certainly not have married you. So for that at least, please hear what she has to say."

"Yes, yes! Do not come to hasty conclusions. We are all upset and tend to say things we do not mean and will regret afterwards," cautioned Nelly. "I'll get you a cup of tea, why don't you sit down," she said ushering him towards the kitchen table before rushing to pour out a cup of green tea for him.

Mei Yin sat down next to Ming Kong. She took his hands in hers, caressing them gently until they relaxed their tight hold. "Remember, when we were young, we too were rash in our actions. The most important thing now is for us to help An Mei, to make sure she knows that she can come back. What would cutting her off from the family achieve? Nothing! Not for her, not for us. Please reconsider. Jenny will be coming soon. Let's see what she can do. At least through her, we'll be able to trace An Mei's whereabouts."

Ming Kong looked at Mei Yin and then Nelly. Nelly nodded encouragingly. "We all make mistakes. It is still not too late to persuade her to return."

Chapter 4.

An Mei stepped out of the plane into the hot blazing sun. The heat hit her with a ferocity that she had almost forgotten. She stood still for a moment on top of the mobile stairway before turning quickly to Hussein. He smiled at her, nodding at the same time towards a small group of people gathered on the sizzling tarmac. "They are here to meet me. Let's not keep them waiting."

She was nervous. She ran her fingers through her hair to bring some order to the strands that flew across her face. "Are you sure it will be alright for you to introduce me to your parents without notice? I must look terrible. I feel so grubby after 16 hours on the plane," she said. Her eyes pleaded with him. Hours of crying on the plane and sleeplessness had left them red and swollen. "Can't we wait? I can make my way like the rest of the pa.s.sengers to the airport terminal and meet you later."

"Nonsense! You look fine. They will be delighted when I introduce you to them. Come!" He felt his smile tighten. Jenny's words of warning flashed through his mind.

They made their way down the stairway and walked towards the group of brightly clad men and women gathered on the red carpet. Their garments of exotic silks, colourful batiks and silver woven sarongs competed in the blazing sunlight. Hussein strode quickly forward to embrace a plump middle-aged woman dressed in a purple silk baju kurong, a sarong and sheath top that reached below the knee, and nearly knocked away the matching umbrella that a turbaned guard was holding to protect her from the sun.

"Emak-mak! Mother!" Hussein said lapsing into his childhood endearment for his mother. He bowed low before embracing her, gathering her into his arms in a tight bear hug.

"Adoi! Jaga! Careful! Anak saya! My child! It is so lovely to have you back! How are you? Come! Come! Let's get out of the sun. The car is waiting. Your cousins are here."

Faridah looked at her son, her face flushed with pride. "Also I would like, in particular, for you to meet Shalimar, Tengku Shalimar, to be precise. You've not seen her since she was twelve."

She rushed on oblivious to Hussein's discomfort and sidelong glances at the Chinese girl who was standing just behind him.

"Don't you think that she has grown up to be a beautiful young woman?" she chuckled, pointing to a young girl standing near them. "We'll sit at the back of the Mercedes and the rest can use the other cars." Faridah beamed, her hands waving expansively, flashing the diamonds and sapphires on her wrists and fingers. "Your father is waiting. Mari! Come! Come with us Shalimar."

"Wait mother. I'd like to introduce An Mei. We were at Oxford together."

Awkwardly, An Mei stepped forward. She did not know what to say. Should she shake her hand? She had totally forgotten to ask Hussein how she should address his mother. All she could think of during the plane journey was her parents' pain, her guilt at the way she had left, and her own heartache. She knew vaguely that there were complex t.i.tles and customs to observe when greeting someone of importance in Malay society. So An Mei stood silent, head bowed, her dress crumpled, her hair wind-blown and her face tear-stained, wishing with all her heart that she had followed her instincts and gone with the other pa.s.sengers to the air terminal.

Faridah took one glance at An Mei and her face fell. Her eyes narrowed to bullet points. "Siapa ini? Who is this?" she snapped, wondering what her son could see in this chit of a girl! She glared at An Mei; then her eyes swept away almost instantaneously without acknowledging her presence. "Come, let's go," she said to Hussein, her voice cutting. "If she is coming with us, she can go in one of the other cars."

An Mei turned and made a dash for the terminal. Hussein ran after her. "Wait, wait! Come back!" He ran until he overtook her and ignoring the gasps and t.i.tters from the people gathered on the red carpet, he took hold of An Mei's hands and marched her firmly back to his mother. "She is coming back with me." Faridah stared at her son, her eyes unbelieving, shocked. She knew better than to argue in public. She did not wish to give people any more cause for t.i.ttle-tattle. She would deal with her son's lack of manners and respect for his elders later. Not now in front of the girl. Without a word she took Shalimar's hand and headed for the Mercedes.

"I'm sorry," Hussein whispered as he held on to An Mei's cold hands. She was shivering in the blast of cold air from the air conditioner of the car. "It's my fault. You were right. I should not have subjected you to this. It has also not been fair to my mother. I should have prepared her."

"So what do we do now? Where will I go? I cannot go back with you to your parents' place, not like this. They will not like it, despite what you say," said An Mei in a voice so soft that he had to bend low to hear her. She kept seeing the contempt on Faridah's face and the vision of Shalimar's large soft eyes and heart-shaped face, shrouded in a hijab, a headscarf, of luminous silk.

"Just give me a chance to sort this out. You can stay in the guesthouse for the time being. I'll get the caretaker to prepare the room. I'll come to you later this evening after speaking to my parents. Please?"

Hussein stood before his parents. He had been talking for two hours: explaining his relationship with An Mei; his wish that they would accept her as his bride; his love for her; who she was and her family background. But it was all to no avail. Their minds were already made up. They wanted nothing to do with An Mei. They warned him of the precariousness of his future.

"It is simple. Do as you wish and you will break our hearts," said Faridah. Her voice grew louder and coa.r.s.er as her vehemence grew. She glared at her son. "We cannot, and will not, accept her into our family. Think of your future. She will become your baggage. Such a marriage just leads to bad publicity. And what if you have children? What will they be? We have great plans for you. You had great plans for yourself. Remember? So what will become of them? Think!" She turned to her husband for support. "Rahim, Chakap dengannya! Rahim, speak to him!"

"Yes," said his father, his voice reasonable and modulated but firm. "The world is within your grasp if you will only put this madness aside. Doors to important positions will open and it will be just a matter of time before you are leader of the party or at least as near to the top as you can possibly be at your age. A few years further down the line I guarantee you will be at the top. The party needs young blood, intelligent and educated young blood."

Rahim was desperate that Hussein should not let him down. His eyes bored into his son's, holding his gaze. "Marry her and I can guarantee you will be as good as lost to us."

Hussein looked beseechingly from one parent to the other. "Mother! Please..."

Faridah brought both hands to her face and cried-out, "Adoi! Hati sakit! You wound my heart!" She slammed her clenched fist on her chest. "You cause us such pain and all because of a Chinese girl. Have you lost your senses? Marrying a Chinese girl would not be good at the best of times, but at this particular moment, it will be suicidal as far as your career is concerned."

"You are wrong. It will demonstrate our impartiality and pave the way for a harmonious relationship between the races," Hussein replied. He dropped his voice. He knew the futility of his argument. He could see the grim determination in their faces. His mother's chin, square and resolute, was quivering with rage and ready for battle. His father, face thrust forward, glowered at him, all semblance of moderation gone.

Hussein dropped his voice. "At least let her stay here. She has nowhere to go."

Faridah exchanged a look with her husband. Hussein could not fathom what pa.s.sed between them although he saw his father nod in agreement.

"Alright," his mother conceded with a great show of reluctance, "she can stay in the guest house here in Kuala Lumpur. But tomorrow, you are coming home with us to the east coast, to Kemun. Don't say no. The whole family, aunts, uncles, cousins, nephews, nieces, are all waiting. A feast has been prepared to welcome you back. You have a duty to the family. This is what we want in return for letting her stay here.

Chapter 5.

An Mei made her way to the French window. She slid the gla.s.s panel open and stepped outside onto a terrace. Within minutes, the panel was covered with condensation and she closed it hastily behind her. She padded barefoot to the rattan armchair and sat down. Not more than ten steps away from her was a pond. Groves of bamboos cast a dappled shade over the glistening water. Their st.u.r.dy straight stems sprouting straight out of the white pearly pebbles strewn around the edge of the pond. Brightly coloured iridescent dragonflies flitted hither and thither, their wings lightly skimming the water surface.

She looked at her watch and then at the garden. "A picture of peace and tranquillity," she whispered to herself, "but I can draw no peace from it. Where is he? When is he coming back?"

It had been five days since she was taken to the guesthouse and four days since she had last seen Hussein. He told her he would be back soon. "We'll talk then," he had promised. But each day dragged by and still there was no word. Where was he, she fretted, drawing her loose shift dress tightly about her body. The steady drone of insects and the unaccustomed heat made her feel light-headed. She was cut off from everybody. She had no money to go anywhere. Food and garments magically appear in her quarters, brought in by silent un.o.btrusive servants who, while taking good care of her, said little in reply to her questions. Her request for access to a phone fell on deaf ears. She had tried to look out of the fenced compound, peeping through the gaps in the panelling. She succeeded to some extent. The streets were empty and recalling the car journey here and the devastation of the recent riots, she did not dare venture out. She longed for the hustle and bustle of Oxford, the noise, the smell, even the rain and dampness. "Anywhere but this utter stillness and loneliness."

"You can have all of it," a voice said. She turned. A man was standing behind her. He bowed, his traditional headgear, an egg-shaped dark velvet cylindrical hat, the songkok, in hand. "Selamat petang, good evening," he said. "I am Tengku Ahmad and I bring you word from Hussein. May I?" he asked pointing to the empty rattan chair. Without waiting for a reply, he sat down and carefully crossed his leg, arranging the short, beautiful silver woven sarong that he wore over his pale green loose trousers.

An Mei, alarmed and taken aback by the unexpected intrusion and the stranger's familiarity, stared at him.

"I have just come from the mosque," he said, "hence my clothes. Don't you remember our Malaysian dress code anymore?" he asked, a sardonic smile on his lips. "Two years away from your motherland and you forget! Bagaimana? How could you?" His voice was teasing, but the accusation behind it was clear.

"Who are you?"

"I am, as I said before, Tengku Ahmad. Hussein's mother, Datin Faridah, asked me to see you."

"Not Hussein? I thought you just said you brought word from Hussein. Where is he? When will he be back?"

"One thing at a time, perlahan-perlahan! Slowly! Can we pursue this conversation in Bahasa Malay or have you also forgotten your national language?" His tone of voice was unmistakeably sarcastic.

An Mei, stung by his tone, shrank in her seat. His presence, manners, and his undisguised insolence both upset her and made her feel uncomfortable. "Of course I remember," she said. Her guard was up. She recalled Jenny's recounting of the tension in the country. "I just lack practice. We studied Malay in school but didn't get much opportunity to use it outside the cla.s.sroom. And, I have been away in England for quite a while."

"Well," he drawled, "it just shows the kind of people you have been mixing with. Obviously not your fellow Malaysians and certainly not those proud to speak Malay."

"Hussein always spoke to me in English," she countered.

Ahmad frowned and his eyes flickered over her, sizing her up, as though seeing her anew. Checkmate, he thought, he had to be careful. She was no walkover.

He leaned forward and with his finger drew a drop of condensation from the side of the gla.s.s onto the table, painting a circle on the gla.s.s top. "Yes, Hussein," he murmured gravely, "that is why I am here now to tell you about Hussein. He is at this very moment, preparing to get engaged. His fiancee to be, as you might have guessed by now, is Shalimar, my sister. Their marriage is something both our families have been looking forward to since they were children. Now that my parents have both pa.s.sed away, it is my duty to oversee this union. A marriage between them would be a marriage made in heaven. It will put a seal on all our ambitions and plans."

"No! That cannot be!" exclaimed An Mei. Her face was bleached white and her lips, bloodless. She felt her heart lurch and her whole being plunge into an overwhelming sense of despair. "Let me talk to him. Please let me have a phone. I would like to hear it from Hussein himself."

"It would be absolutely futile to talk to him. It has all been decided. I am just the messenger. I can offer you this much as a gesture of goodwill. I can give you a one-way air ticket to London to join your family and provide you with transport to the airport. And," he said taking out a wad of notes, "money to see you through. That is all. We do not wish to see you here again. Your insistence to be part of Hussein's life will only destroy him. Surely this is not what you want?"

"Destroy Hussein? Me?" she asked, springing to her feet. Incredulous, her eyes, dulled with despair only a moment ago, now blazed with fury at the injustice of his accusation. "All Hussein and I have talked about is how I would work with him to achieve his goals."

"Don't be naive!" he exclaimed, standing up, not wishing to lose the advantage that he thought he had over her.

"I had expected some opposition from Hussein's parents, but Hussein had told me that it would be only a matter of time before he would win them over."

Ahmad snorted. "Only some opposition? Hah! I leave you to mull over the offer. When you come to your senses, tell one of the servants to contact me." He turned to leave. An Mei caught hold of his sleeve.

"Please let me speak to Hussein."

He shrugged her hand off. "Tak malu! Shameless! Chasing after him, throwing yourself at him and expecting me to help you. Who do you think I am?" He snorted again before striding off.

Left alone, An Mei crumpled to the floor. She felt ashamed, ashamed that she had let herself, her parents and her aunt down. She did not know how she could ever bridge the gulf created between herself and her family. She was in no doubt that she had done wrong. She had gone against the filial piety that her parents expected of her. She had convinced herself that it was for love; because Hussein loved her. Now even this seemed doubtful. Why hadn't Hussein been in touch? She was not sure if there was any truth in what Ahmad had relayed, but she felt humiliated by his taunts. Was she really throwing herself at Hussein? she wondered.

Chapter 6.

In Kemun, Hussein paced up and down the length of the drawing room in his parents' palatial home. He ignored their entreaties to sit down and relax. His parents were sitting on a settee with other members of the family around them. He looked at their colourful clothes, their opulence and lavish styles; he saw them talk and laugh without a care and felt completely apart from them. He had rushed back from Oxford in response to his father's plea and the crisis his homeland was facing. But it appeared that the crisis did not bother his family. He had forgotten just how many family members he had. He felt stifled by their presence - their eyes following his every movement. The only respite came from speaking to his friend Ahmad. Yet even there he was disappointed. Ahmad had explained to him gently, but in no uncertain terms, that his parents would cut him off if he continued his relationship with An Mei in the brash manner he had done so far. He would not get a penny and would have to make his own way in the world. He had answered defiantly that this was precisely his intention and what his education had prepared him for, but Ahmad had brusquely pushed his bravado aside.

"How naive you are and how out of touch. You might have the qualifications and of course that helps, but no doors will be open to you without the support of your parents. This is how things work here. Who would dare risk their displeasure by taking you on?" Ahmad placed his arm around Hussein's shoulders and, in a conciliatory tone, continued. "Let me speak to An Mei. Don't try to contact her. It will only upset your parents. Trust me. I will see what I can do."

"Can you tell her what is happening here? I have been trying to call her every day, but no one seems to know where she is. She must be frightened." Hussein was tortured by his inability to keep the promise he had made to her. "I don't want her to think that I have abandoned her. I wanted to go back to Kuala Lumpur but have been thwarted each time. You know my parents have taken away all my cash and even my cheque book?" When he protested, they said he had no need of them because everything was provided for. And at that point, as never before in his life, he understood the true meaning of independence. To be independent, you needed to have money and he had none. All that he possessed, or thought was his, had been taken away in a single swoop. He felt trapped and completely powerless.

Ahmad laughed. "Yes! Of course! Don't worry. Just go and sit over there with your parents and try to win their favour. Whatever you might think, they want the best for you. I'll see how I can bring both of you together without upsetting them."

Hussein looked over to where the party was congregated and caught his mother's eyes.

"Come, come over and join us. We are planning what to do tomorrow. Tomorrow is Shalimar's nineteenth birthday." Faridah patted the seat next to her. "Sit by me, my son. And stop looking so glum. Apa ini? What is this? I have had enough of your requests to leave us for Kuala Lumpur. We have only just arrived back home and you want to go away."

With the other hand, she waved to Shalimar to come forward. "Sit here, next to me." Taking Hussein's hand from one side of her and Shalimar's hand on the other side of her, she joined them together holding both on her lap. "We shall have to make plans for your engagement soon. Give it some thought. Make use of the time to get to know each other. Understand?" she said looking from one to the other.

Shalimar, her eyes firmly cast down, refused to look up. Her headscarf slipped forward, shielding her from view. Hussein looked desperately for Ahmad. He struggled to remove the hand that his mother had placed firmly on Shalimar's.

"Ibu, jangan! Mother, don't! Don't force me!" He could feel Shalimar's hand limp below his.

"What do you mean? Have you forgotten that you were already informally betrothed to Shalimar when you were children and until now you have never shown any objections."

"But mother, we were just children, playing - it was never meant to be serious. Anyway I have not seen her since she was twelve. And since that time, you have never really brought it up. Isn't that so Shalimar?"

Shalimar nodded, still silent, still looking down. Tears, however, fell from her eyes wetting her sleeves.

Did she agree with him? Hussein wondered. His heart leapt feeling a ray of hope that he was not alone in his opposition to his mother's plan.

"Look what you have done. You have hurt Shalimar," his mother scolded.

Hussein looked at Shalimar and saw her tears. Abashed, he gripped Shalimar's hand, which lay under his, and said, "Do you wish to talk? Shall we step out to the garden?"

Faridah broke into a big smile. "Bagus! Pergi-pergi! Good! Go! It will do both of you some good."

They got up and walked to the terrace and into the garden. Faridah nodded to Ahmad and indicated that he should follow the young couple. Ahmad shook his head. "Leave them be," he mouthed silently and smiled.

Outside in the warm night air, Hussein apologised. "I am sorry if I upset you, but what I said was true. Don't you agree? We may have played at getting married when we were children, but since then we have never been together. Surely, you must be as much against this marriage as I am?"

"Abang, elder brother, speak softly. Walls have ears. I am not free to speak my mind." Shalimar drew her headscarf tighter towards her face, half covering her mouth. When she looked up at him, her eyes were luminous.

"You can tell me. I won't repeat it to anyone."

She looked around anxiously before saying. "I have no choice. I cry because I have no choice. Don't you understand? I am to marry you - someone who has no wish to have me as a bride."

"You have a choice. You can say no!"

"You have no idea," She lowered her voice further.

"Tell me. I promise on my honour that I will not tell anyone."

She looked at him for a long time, her eyes searching his. "You swear to this?"

He nodded putting the palm of his hand to his heart.

Finally, she whispered. "I love someone else too. He is our gardener's son. My brother said that he is a thief and that he caught him stealing. He threatens to put him in prison if I do not do as he bids. Your parents do not know of my circ.u.mstance. They believe that I have agreed to the marriage willingly."

Hussein smiled a mirthless grin. He realised then why Ahmad had proposed to be his and An Mei's intermediary. He said to Shalimar, "We have to put our heads together and see what can be done." He held out his hand and she took it.