Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows: A hilarious and heartwarming novel
‘Big-hearted, earthy and funny… A rattlingly good story’ Deborah Moggach, The Best Exotic Marigold HotelWhen Nikki takes a creative writing job at her local temple, with visions of emancipating the women of the community she left behind as a self-important teenager, she’s shocked to discover a group of barely literate women who have no interest in her ideals.Yet to her surprise, the white dupatta of the widow hides more than just their modesty – these are women who have spent their lives in the shadows of fathers, brothers and husbands; being dutiful, raising children and going to temple, but whose inner lives are as rich and fruitful as their untold stories. But as they begin to open up to each other about womanhood, sexuality, and the dark secrets within the community, Nikki realises that the illicit nature of the class may place them all in danger.East meets west and tradition clashes with modernity in a thought-provoking cross-cultural novel that might make you look again at the women in your life…
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Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2017
Copyright © Balli Kaur Jaswal 2017
Cover design: Holly MacDonald © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2017
Cover illustrations © Shutterstock.com
Balli Kaur Jaswal asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780008209919
Ebook Edition © March 2017 ISBN: 9780008209902
Version 2018-09-21
For Paul
Table of Contents
Why did Mindi want an arranged marriage?
Nikki stared at the profile her sister had attached to the email. There was a list of relevant biographical details: name, age, height, religion, diet (vegetarian except for the occasional fish and chips). General preferences for a husband: intelligent, compassionate and kind, with strong values and a nice smile. Both clean-shaven and turban-wearing men were acceptable, provided beards and moustaches were neatly maintained. The ideal husband had a stable job and up to three hobbies which extended him mentally and physically. In some ways, she had written, he should be just like me: modest (a prude in Nikki’s opinion), practical with finances (downright stingy) and family-oriented (wants babies immediately). Worst of all, the title of her blurb made her sound like a supermarket seasoning spice: Mindi Grewal, East-West Mix.
The narrow corridor connecting Nikki’s bedroom to the kitchenette was not suitable for pacing, with uneven floorboards that creaked in various pitches under the slightest contact. She travelled up and down the corridor nonetheless, gathering her thoughts in tiny steps. What was her sister thinking? Sure, Mindi had always been more traditional – once, Nikki had caught her watching an internet video on how to roll perfectly round rotis – but advertising for a groom? It was so extreme.
Nikki called Mindi repeatedly and was connected to voicemail each time. By the time she got through, the sunlight had leaked away into the dense evening fog and it was nearly time to leave for her shift at O’Reilly’s.
‘I know what you’re going to say,’ Mindi said.
‘Can you see it, Mindi?’ Nikki asked. ‘Can you actually picture this happening?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re insane, then.’
‘I’ve made this decision on my own. I want to find a husband the traditional way.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s what I want.’
‘Why?’
‘It just is.’
‘You need to come up with a better reason than that if you want me to edit your profile.’
‘That’s unfair. I supported you when you moved out.’
‘You called me a selfish cow.’
‘But then when you left, and when Mum wanted to go to your place and demand that you come home, who convinced her to let it go? If not for me, she would never have accepted your decision. She’s over it now.’
‘Almost over it,’ Nikki reminded her. Time had worn on Mum’s initial sense of outrage and stretched it threadbare. These days Mum was still deeply dissatisfied with Nikki’s lifestyle, but she had given up lecturing Nikki about the perils of living on her own. ‘My own mother would not have dreamt of allowing this,’ Mum always said to prove her progressiveness, a balance of boastfulness and lament in her tone. East-West Mix.
‘I’m embracing our culture,’ Mindi said. ‘I see my English friends meeting men online and in nightclubs and they don’t seem to be finding anyone suitable. Why not try an arranged marriage? It worked for our parents.’
‘Those were different times,’ Nikki argued. ‘You’ve got more opportunities than Mum had at the same age.’
‘I’m educated, I’ve done my nursing degree, I’ve got a job – this is the next step.’
‘It shouldn’t be a step. Acquiring a husband, that’s what you’re doing.’
‘It’s not going to be like that. I just want a bit of help to find him, but it’s not like we’re going to meet for the first time on our wedding day. Couples are allowed more time to get to know each other these days.’
