White Teeth

ing that no one tells youabout. This thing of knowing children. For forty-odd years, travelling happily along life's highway, Samad had been unaware that dotted along that

his children, and then their friends; then children in children's programmes on children's TV. By 1984 at least 30 per cent of

a parent-

e pretty red-haired music teacher asks you to) and win a bottle of whisky (all school raffles are fixed), and, before you know where you are, you're turning up at the weekly school council meetings, organizing concerts, discussing plans

a right to an opinion. And I have a right to express that opinion.""Yes, but do you have to express it so often?" This was the hissed exchange between Samad and Alsana

lady just behind him, who was speaking about the woodworm in the school orchard, inadvertently making it impossible to pretend that Samad's persistent raised hand had gone unseen. Sooner or later she was going to have to let him speak. In between nodding at Mrs. Hanson, she snatched a surreptitious glance at the minutes which the secretary, Mrs. Khilnani, was scribbling away on her left. She wanted

ren who enjoy the present climbing frame but unfortunately have made it a safety risk through dangerous overcrowding. Mrs. Trott

objection. Moves to put

education system privileges activity of t

wonders if this i

ts and emphasizes that his sons, Magid and MiUat, get all the exercise they need via headstands

ulsory head stands Mr. Iqbal infers that, considering Susan's academic

had assumed on his lapel, stood up quite unnecessarily and sorted through a number of

groan went round the group of governors, followed by a short period of shifting

er.""Only you've tabled twelve motions already

tant to be delayed, Mrs. Mi

it's, umm .. . actually not Mrs. It's Ms. Ms."Samad looked quizzically at Katie Miniver, t

y, yes, divorced. I'm keeping the name.""I see. You h

you see, so' Ellen Corcoran and Janine Lanzerano, two friends from the Women's Action Group, gave Katie a supportive smile. Ellen shook h

u, Mr. Iqbal. I just would feel more if you it's Ms.""Mzzz?""Ms.""And this is some kind of linguistic conflation between t

lost her husband or has no prospect of finding ano

ined something in pen three times and t

hifting, scratching, leg-c

is about the Harvest Festival? What is it? Why is it? And why must my children celebrate it?"The headmistress, Mrs. Owens, a ge

ligious and secular events: amongst them, Christmas, Ramadan, Chinese New Year, Diwali, Yom Kippur, Hanukkah, the birthday of Haile Selassie, and the death of Martin Luther King. The Harv

als from the Christian calendar, there would be an average of Samad paused to look at his clipboard 'of twenty days freed up in which the children could celebrate Lailat-ul-Qadr in December, Eid-ul-Fitr in January and Eid-ul-Adha in April, for example. And the first f

t of work in stocking-stuffing."Samad ignored the general gig

thou shall force thy mother to bake a loaf of bread in the shape of a fish? These are pagan ideals! Tell me where does it say, Thou shah take a box of frozen fish fingers to an aged cro

r it has scriptural support or not. Certainly, nothing in the bible suggests we should sit down to a turkey meal on Christmas Day, but few people would condemn it on those gr

second it?"Samad pressed Alsana's hand. She kicked him in the ankle. He stamped on her toe. She pinched his flank. He be

and Ellen looked over to her with the piteous, sadde

otion to remove the Harvest Fes

teacher Poppy Burt-Jones, shot up, sending her many bracelets jangling down her wrist. Then the Chalfens, Marcus and Joyce, an ageing hippy couple both dressed in pseudo-Indian ga

e remaining thirty-six h

t of Manor School Witches and Goblins will be delight

ved himself with some difficulty in a miniature urinal, the pretty r

oppy Burt-Jones. I take Magid and Millat for orchestra and singing."Sam

good! I mean, I'm glad there's no, you know, pain."She was what you wou

; an open-neck white shirt, some well-worn Levis and grey trainers, a lot of dark red hair swished up in a sloppy ponyta

d Millat has a real flair for the sax. No, I just wanted to say that I thought you made a good point, you know," she said, chucking her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the hall. "In the meeting. The Harvest Festival a

ng but both very down to earth with it. I talked to them and they thought you should pursue it. You know, actually, I was thinking that maybe we could get together at some point in the next few months and work on a second motion for the September meeting you know, nearer the actual time, make it a little more coherent, maybe, print out leaflets, that sort of thing. Because you know, I'm re

his car keys nervously in his pockets, still he felt a co

ly more patience than he had ever previously employed the many times

in which Samad saw clearly that he wanted her more than any woman he had met in the past ten years. Just like that. Desire didn't even bother casing the joint, checking whether the neighbours were in desire just kicked down the door and made himself at home. He felt

ell, we can talk about it. I'll give you a call about it in a few weeks. We could meet after orchestra, maybe?""That would be ... fine"Great! That's agreed, then. You know, your boys are

ery, I don't know, subdued."Samad winced i

t are just so ... loud

hat had patterns on the inside and the out, Magid could be found, whatever the weather, in grey pullover, grey shirt and black tie with his shiny black shoes and NHS specs perched upon his nose, like some dwarf librarian. Alsana would say, "Little man, how about the blue one for Amma, hmm?" pushing him into the primary colours section of Mothercare. "Just one blue one. Go so nice with your eyes. For Amma, Magid. How can

ood-for-nothing."Poppy looked mortified at this. "Oh no! No, I didn't mean that at all... I mean, I think he's probably a little intimidated by Magid in that way, but he's such a personality! He's just n

walked up behind them, giving

ristocratic manner he used when confronted with educated people. "Arch

g slightly apart from the other two and had a queer look, Archie thought, a bloody queer look on his face. "You've met the notorious Ick-Ball! You were a bit much in that meeting, Samad, eh? Wasn't he,

of Archie, and finding the word 'waiter' stopping in his throat. "No, the fact is I work in a restaurant. I did some study in younger days, but the war came and ..

"No," said Samad flatly. "The Second World.""Oh, Mr. Iqbal, you'd never guess. You must hav

king flushed, coy and sure of herself, all at the same time. "You look very good on it. I'm sure the Omar Sharif comparison's been made before, Mr. Iqbal.""No, no, no, no," said Samad, glowing with pleasure. "The only comparison lies in our mutual love of bridge. No, no, no ... And it's Samad," he added. "Call me Samad,

t of the door and down the sloping driveway to the front gates. "De

like you, though, Samad having found God and all that not like you to be distracted by the attractions of the flesh."Samad shook Archie's hand from where it was resting on his shoulder. "Why are you so irredeemably vulgar?"77 wasn't the one -1But S

. To the pure all things are pure

ay fairer than that. Can't say fairer

to creep into Samad's bones, circa 1976, just after his marriage to the small-palmed, weak wristed and disinterested Alsana, he

scholar had silently passed him a leaflet from a pile on a table

ne acts which

successors of the Holy Prophet Swallowing thick dust Immersing one's complete head in water Remaining in Janabat or Haidh or Nifas till the Adhan for Fajr prayers (viii) Enema with

comes out. It is only a nerve that one kneads."Samad had taken heart a

here are some who say ..." Samad had begun sheepishly, "To the pure all things are pure. If one is truthful and firm in oneself, i

"Of course. Samad, being Samad, had employed the best of his Western pragmatism, gone home and vigorously tackled the job with his functional left hand, repeating To the pure all things are pure. To the pure all things are pure, until orgasm finally arrived: sticky, sad, depressing. And that ritual continued for some five years, in the little bedroom at the top of the house where he slept alone (so as not to wake Alsana) after crawling back from the restaurant at three in the morning each and every morning; secretly, silently; for he w

iness proposition, that he had made with God: Samad being the party of the first part, God being the sleeping partner. And since that day Samad had enjoyed relative spiritual peace and many a frothy Guinness with Archibald Jones

not like that charming white-bearded bungler of the Anglican, Methodist or Catholic churches. His God was not in the business of giving people breaks. The moment Samad set eyes on the pretty red-haired music teacher Poppy Burt Jones that July of 1984, he knew finally the