duty free by moni mohsin - excerpt

8/4/2019 Duty Free by Moni Mohsin - Excerpt

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either

are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales

is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2011 by Moni Mohsin

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Broadway Paperbacks,

an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group,

a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

www.crownpublishing.com

Broadway Paperbacks and the Broadway Paperbacks design

are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

Published in slightly different form in paperback in India by

Random House Publishers India Pvt. Ltd., Noida, and in Great Britain

by Chatto & Windus, an imprint of the Random House Group Limited,

London, as Tender Hooks.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Mohsin, Moni.Duty free : a novel / Moni Mohsin. 1st ed.

p. cm.

1. Upper classPakistanFiction. 2. Arranged marriageFiction. 3. Lahore (Pakistan)Fiction. I. Title.

PR6113.O37D88 2011823'.92dc23

2011026253

ISBN 978-0-307-88924-9

Printed in the United States of America

Cover design by Jessie Sayward Bright

Cover photography by Getty Images

8 6


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BREAKING NEWS. . .TWIN SUICIDE ATTACKS KILL 23

PRESIDENT ZARDARI INVITES TOURISTS TO PAKISTAN

27 September

Yesterday was my cousin Jonkers thirty-seventh birthday. Youknow Jonkers,na? Hes my Aunty Pussys one and only child.

Her sun and air. And since Im doing my whole family tree,

now let me tell about Aunty Pussy also. Aunty Pussy is

Mummys cousin. Their mummies were real sisters. If I was

English Id say Jonkers was my first cousin once removed. As

if cousins were bikini lines, once removed, twice removed,hundred times removed but still there. And Uncle Kaukab is

Jonkers father. And also Aunty Pussys husband. Might as well

be clear, no? Never know, otherwise, how much people under-

stand and how much people dont understand.

Haan, so where was I? Yes, Jonkers. To celebrate his

birthday, Aunty Pussy took us allMummy, me, her, andJonkers alsoto Cuckoos Restaurant for dinner in the old

bit of the city next to the Badshahi Mosque. I like Cuckoos

because everyone says its fab. Foreigners taujust love coming

here. Or they did before the suicide bombs started in Lahore

also. Its a bit bore that Cuckoos is in the old city, with its

bad toilet smells and all its crumbly, crumbly, old, old houses

but at least all those prostitutes who used to live nearby in


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Society to live in neat little kothis their politician and feudal

boyfriends have bought them. So no chance, thanks God, of

bumping into bad-charactered-types. Unless its suicide

bombers, of course. But them tauyou can bump into anywhere,

thanks to the army which has given jihadis safe heavens all

over Pakistan.

And also its a bit bore that you have to climb fifty-five

thousand steps to get on top of Cuckoo but view from thereis fab. You can look right inside the coatyard of the mosque.

But we couldnt because there was so much of smog. Lahore

has just three problems: traffic, terrorists, and smog. Other-

wise tau its just fab.

Anyways, Aunty Pussy had also invited Janoo (hes my

husband,na) but Janoo was in his bore village, Sharkpur. Okay,okay, I suppose its ourvillage because Im his wife and what

is his is ours, but thanks God Im not from there and I havent

been there for three years. Janoo spends half his time there,

sewing his crops and looking after his mango and orange and

grapefruit orchids, sorry, sorry I meant orchards. But because

I dont sew the crops, and I only spend the money we get fromthe crops, its best for me to live in Lahore where the shops

are. Aunty Pussy also invited my darling, shweetoo baby

Kulchoo but he said he was doing homework. His GCSEs are

on top of his head but I think so he was reading Facebook.

Such a little bookworm my baby is.

So us four went and dinner was nice and all but when

Jonkers went down the fifty five thousand steps to pay the bill

M O N I M O H S I N


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into her chicken tikkaactually just chicken bones, because

shed eaten up every last bit of the meat. Shes very careful

that way, Aunty Pussy. She said how her heart wept tears of

blood each time she saw poor Jonkers on his own, without

wife, without kids and what would happen to him when she

died. I wanted to say that after you die he will play holi with

all that money you have lying in your bank account that you

were too much of a meanie to let him enjoy in your lifetime.But I didnt say because it doesnt look nice.

And then she suddenly reached across the table, grabbed

my hand in her thin, spidery one and said, Promise me, promise

that you will help me get my Jonky married by the end of the

year.

Haw, Aunty I began.But she gripped my hand tighter and shrieked, Promise!

Pussy! Mummy hissed. People are looking.

But Aunty Pussy ignored her. Promise me! she said in a

horse whisper, her nails digging like little blades into my palms

and her eyes boaring into mine.

Okay, okay, Aunty, I promise. I said it to get my handback really, but the minute shed let go and sat back in her

seat, Aunty Pussy said calmly, Now remember youve sworn

on your childs life.

Haw! I never, I gasped.

No need to be so dramatical, Pussy, Mummy said.

When you said promise thats what I said in my heart. So

thats what youve promised said Aunty Pussy smiling a catty

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Before I could reply Jonkers came back up huffing and

puffing like the Khyber Mail. And then, naturally, nobody could

say anything.

When she dropped me home, Aunty Pussy rolled down her

window and shouted, Remember your promise.

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28 September

Look at Aunty Pussy. What a double-crosser! Imagine, doingthat to your very own niece. Making such horrid, horrid prom-

ises like that in her heart and then pretending that Id agreed.

I called up Mummy first thing this morning and I tau told her

straight that not even my shoe is going to lift its toe for Aunty

Pussy after what she did to me last night. And Mummy said

Think it through and I said Ive thought it through already,thank you very much. Aik tau Mummy is also such a side-

taker. Honestly. Sometimes I wonder if she knows whose

Mummy she is. Mine or Jonkers?

Today is 28 September. That means Jonkers has two and

half months to get married in. Because I think so Muharram

begins in middle of December and nobody gets married inPakistan then, not even Christians, it being Islamic month of

mourning and all. So Auntie Pussy has two months to find a

bride for Jonkers. Shed better start looking, no?

And me? Im off to Mulloos coffee party. All the girls are

coming. Bubble, Sunny, Baby, Faiza, Nina. Im wearing my

new cream Prada shoes I got from Dubai, so everyone can see

and my new cream outfit Ive had made to match I put on

BREAKING NEWS. . .CATERERS MAKING HAY IN PRE-MUHARRAM

WEDDING RUSH. . .LIONESS IN LAHORE ZOO SUFFERS PARALYSIS


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lipstick and now Im looking just like Angelina Jolly. But like

her healthier, just slightly older sister. I know I shouldnt do

my own praises but facts are facts, no? Pity Janoo is not Brad

Pitts. But you cant have everything in life, as Mother Rosario

used to say at my convent school.

M O N I M O H S I N


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29 September

Hai, you wont believe what happened yesterday. I dont thinkso I can believe even now. I was sitting in Mulloos drawing

room sipping coffee and gently swinging my Prada-wallah foot

under Sunnys nose so she shouldnt miss that its from the

new collection and not from old, chatting to her about

importance of baggrounds, when suddenly my mobile started

playing Tum Paas Aaye.Thats my ringing tonena, from KuchKuch Hota Hai, my most best Bollywood film. The call was

from Kulchoos school. His stuppid housemaster calling to say

that my poor baby had been hit on the head with a cricket

ball and that his head had got cracked and he had fainted but

now hed come around and not to worry he seemed okay but

would I like to come and pick him up? Head cracked, fainted,not to worry. Not to worry? For a few moments, I tau passed

away myself. When I came too, the girls were all gathered

round me saying Hai, what happened? I told them what

happened and Sunny said, My son had three fatal accidents

while playing polo and mashallah hes still fine, touch wood.

Just look at her, she does so much of competition. Not

cricket but polo And not one fatal accident but three

BREAKING NEWS. . .POLL: FIFTY-TWO PERCENT OF PAKISTANIS

BELIEVE IN BLACK MAGIC. . .LAUGHING FACES MASK TOUGH TALES

OF SURVIVAL


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me to Kulchoos school at top speed. From the car only I called

Psycho, Janoos younger sister. Okay, okay her name is Saiqa

but Ive always called her Psycho because it suits her person-

ality nicer than Saiqa. Her husbands brother is a doctor, na,

at Omar Hospital and I screamed down the phone at Psycho

and said to her, I said, Psycho if you want to inherit those

twelve gold bangles of your mothers that you have your eye

on, get your brother-in-law to be standing in the porch whenI arrive at the hospital. Aik tau shes also so stuppid. Asked

lot of stuppid, stuppid-type questions like What happened,

Bhaabi? and Which gold bangles? Such a time-waster.

Poor darling Kulchoo was sitting in his school looking dazed

like hed just jumped off a merry-go-around. He had a towel

with ice in it, pressed to his forehead. I threw the filthy towelon the ground (God knows which, which boys from what, what

homes had used it before him), threw the housemaster filthy

looks, and took Kulchoo straight forward to Omar Hospital

where I marched up to the counter and shouted that Psychos

brother-in-law was my sister-in-laws brother-in-law and that I

demand to see him there and then.Thanks God, Kulchoo didnt argue with me and get all

embarrassed like he always does when I jump cues and demand

to see the top man. I think so my poor shweetoo was too out

off it. Finally Psychos brother-in-law came and did a city-scan

and an X-ray and an MRI of my babys head and said he had

a mild-type crack. Con-cushion, he called it. I called Janoo

when we got home and said Kulchoo had had an accident and

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back. Why? How? When? Janoo barked down the phone. Uff

Allah! Aik tau hes also so inquisitive. Anyways, I think so, hes

coming back tonight, thanks God.

Then I called Mummy and told her what had happened.

She was silent for a long time and then she said, Youd better

start looking for a wife for Jonkers. And I swear my heart

turned to ice. Just like that.

D U T Y F R E E


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1 October

Janoo says I talk like an uneducated and that Im verysupercilious and that what happened to Kulchoo was just an

accident and had nothing to do with Aunty Pussys promise or

Jonkers wife or anyone. But I damn care. Janoo can go on

speaking like the bore from Oxford that he is (I think so, they

are called Oxens napeople with passes from Oxford). But

I have very good sick-sense like that. Just like I knew Benazirwas going to be killed the day before she was killed, just like

that I know deep inside my heart that Aunty Pussy is respon-

sible for Kulchoos con-cushion. And that if I dont get Jonkers

married by the end of the year, God knows what will happen

to my baby.

Kulchoo is resting upstairs. Ive told him no reading-sheading,okay? So hes watching a film on his DVD. Something called

Black Hawk Down. I think so its a nature documentary. So

serious my baby is. Between you, me, and the four walls, hes

becoming a little bit bore like his father, always watching docu-

mentaries about global warning and energy crisis and other bore,

bore things like that. But thanks God, hes at home.

Every day threats are coming to his school from beardo

BREAKING NEWS. . .TERROR THREATS LEAD TO CLOSURE OF

SCHOOLS, COLLEGES NATIONWIDE. . .RISING ORGAN TRADE

SETS OFF ALARM BELLS


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are being threated night and day that theyll burn down their

buildings and throw acid in the girls faces because their uniform

is unIslamic. Just look at them! What can be more Islamic

than a shirt that comes down to your ankles and ashulloo that

has more cloth in it than a three-seater sofa? Cracks. Everyone

is saying its only a matter of time before the beardo-weirdos

make schools shut down forever like they did in Swat and

Kabul. Sunny was saying at the coffee party that they tau arethinking of sending their youngest son to a boarding school in

England. Her youngest is one year senior to Kulchoo at school

and a real stuppid. He has two, two tuitions in every subject,

and even then just manages to scrap through. Sunny was

boasting about some top school called Eaten just on the outer-

skirts of London whose fees are more than Pakistans GDB.Show-offer.

D U T Y F R E E


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2 October

Before I could go see Aunty Pussy, guess who came calling?Jonkers. I was lounging in my lounge, flickering through my

fave magazine, Good Timesthere was a photo of Sunny taken

at Lucky Rice-wallahs anniversary party but luckily her eyes

were shut and her mouth open as if she was asleep talking

when the bearer came in and said that my cousin Jonkers was

here.Last thing I wanted to see was Jonkers. Dont think Im

not family-minded. Or that I dont like Jonkers. We grew up

together, after all. He was always small and skinny and had

asthma and used to wheeze like a broken accordion. Auntie

Pussy wouldnt let him play with the boys because she said

he was too weak. So instead he played with me. Ludo andbedminton and dolls and house-house also. In house-house I

was always the begum sahiba and he was the driver. Drive

straight to beauty parlour, driver, Id say to him. Yes, Begum

Sahiba, hed say. So cute he was then with his long white

socks, his ironed shorts, and his hair combed nicely to one

side.

But when we became teenagers we grew apart I got more

BREAKING NEWS. . .SOCIAL MOBILITY DENIED TO MASSES

POLICE FOIL BID TO BULLDOZE GRAVEYARD


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and all and then went away to become a countant in England

I think so in a place called Hull or Dull or something. Mean-

whiles I got married. Id already had Kulchoo by the time he

came back with his a countancy. Jonkers started helping his

father, Uncle Kaukab. Uncle Kaukab has a small business

exporting bed-sheets and towels-showels and, just between

you, me, and the four walls, a bigger business managing all

the property that hed collected when he was chief of centralboard of revenew back in the 80s. God was very kind to them

then. He put a lot in their way. And as Aunty Pussys always

said, God helps those who help themselves. So Aunty Pussy

and Uncle Kaukab helped themselves nicely to whatever came

their wayhouses, plots, cars, and so on and so fourth.

They lost some when Musharrafs guvmunt did its little acountability drama in the begining. Uncle Kaukab panicked

and sold some of his houses quickly and lost money on them.

Then Aunty Pussy investigated whatever money he got from

the sale in her cousins (from her fathers side) motel in Ontario

and the cousin sold the motel and ran off with everything. So

theyre not as well off as before but still not poor, God forbid.Aunty Pussy wanted Jonkers to make a big marriage, na,

to nice, rich, fair, beautiful type from an old family. At first,

tau, she didnt like any girl. Whoever she saw wasnt rich enough

or beautiful enough or fair enough or old family enough. So

it was a real shock to her when she discovered that Jonkers

was secretly dating low-class, hungry-naked types.

There was that receptionist we called Typhoon (she used

D U T Y F R E E


17/27

off. Then there was another polyester number with underarm

sweat stains and chipped nail polish, who worked in a furni-

ture showroom, but who thanks God Jonkers himself caught

in the muscular embrace of the security-wallah. In between

also there was a cheap-type hairdresser. Actually not even proper

hairdresser, she was just a blow-dryer. Her name was Akeela

and Mummy and I called her Akela the loan wolffromJungle

Book, which was my best film until Kuch Kuch Hota Hai. Andthen last year Jonkers arrived home with Miss Shumaila, his

secretary, with whom hed already done secret marriage in a

mosque.

And if we thought Akela was bad, Shumaila was ten times

worst. So pushy and hungry and low-class. Wore tight poly-

ester shirts and frosted maroon lipstick and had big busts andwobbly hips that juggled as she walked. And even more worst

she had a meaty, furry smell about her as if a wild animal, like

a female monkey or fox or something, had entered the room.

Jonkers, of course, was like her lapdog, following in her meaty

trail with his tongue hanging out. Honestly, all men are cracked.

She stayed with him for four months, lying about in her unmadedouble bed in her air-conditioned room all day, eating nine,

nine meals in one sitting, ordering the servants like they were

her own and doing twenty-four-hour arguing with Aunty Pussy.

Of course, after shed had her little holiday, she ran off. Took

a good clunk of Aunty Pussys jewellery and Jonkers brand-

new Toyota Corolla and ran off in the dead of night with some

low class cheapster man like herself Good radiance I thought

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Of course, Aunty Pussy tau cant stop crowing about how

she knew from first second that Shumaila was bad news. Day

and night she is telling Jonkers, See! See! Bring two-paisa,

thieving sluts into an honest, decent home and this is what

happens!

After Shumaila left, Jonkers became so quiet and sad that

I dont know what to say to him any more. Sometimes I wonder

if he is same Jonkers who used to play bedminton with meand let me win all the points. Maybe he also wonders if Im

still the same me?

Just as I was about to tell the bearer to tell him that I was

out, I heard Jonkers shy little cough and there he was behind

my sofa.

Haw, Jonkers! I squealed. What a lovely surprise!Hello, Apa, he said quietly. I wish he wouldnt call me

Apa. I know Im his sort of elder sister but hes only three

years younger than me even though he looks ten years elder

with his bald head, skinny little neck and big, square General-

Zia-type glasses.

May I? he asked, looking at the sofa.Jonkers,yaar, dont be formal.

He twitched up his neatly pressed khaki trousers over his

knees and sat down.

I hear, Apa

Dont call me Apa, okay? People will think Im fifty if Im

yourelder sister.

Sorry My mother tells me youre going to help her find a

D U T Y F R E E


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Something like.

But the sort of girls my mother is after want Porsche-

driving, stinking-rich hunks, not losers like me.

Haw, Jonkers, how you can say that? After all, mashallah,

you have everythingname, house, property.

I know you all thought Shumaila was downmarket, but

you know something? She actually liked me.

If she liked you so much why did she run away then, haan?Because everyone looked down on her and my mother

made her life hell.

Im sorry, Jonkers, I said, but she was tau a total no-no.

Couldnt even speak English properly and ate her omlette with

a spoon and had pointed toenails. And those tight, tight shirts

and loose, loose morals. And no deodrant also. No, Im sorry.She was just after your money. Look at the way she cleaned you

out. And that also in four months only. As soon as I said it I saw

Jonkers face fall down. I felt bad, so I said, Im not saying she

didnt like you. Dont get me wrong, haan? But honestly, she

wasnt suitable. There was too much of difference in you both.

Arent the two of you different?Who two? Me and Janoo? Of course we are. He is serious

and I am fun. I have friends and he doesnt. I am sophisty,

socialist-type and he is bore, serious-type. I like fashion and

gossip and parties and all he, poor thing, knows about is world

affairs and crops and his bore charity school that he runs in

his village. But at least we know the same people and have

the same sort of baggrounds Okay hes landed and Im not

M O N I M O H S I N


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And okay, I spent more time gossiping and getting my eyebrows

threaded by my friends in the front lawn than going to bore

lectures at college, but at least I went to same place as his

sisters for my BA so you know, we are from same bagground.

And thats what matters, Jonkers. Not what you like and dont

like, not what you do and dont do but where youre from. Can

you say that about you and Shumaila? That you were from

same sort of baggrounds?Jonkers shook his head. And then he said, with a sloppy-

type, sad smile, She used to make me feel alive. Id take her

for a spin in the car and shed lower the window right down

and sing along with Bollywood songs on the radio at the top

of her voice. Its the Time to Disco from Main Hoon Na was

her all-time favourite.No, stuppid. Its from Kal Ho Naa Ho with Preety Zinda

and Shahrukh and Saif.

And she loved Kit Kat. And she wasnt insect-thin and she

didnt turn up her nose at clothes without labels and she didnt

moan about the servants or the air conditioning and she could

cook. She made the best biryani. Mummy said it just provedshe was servant class.

I felt sorry for him and also a little bit guilty, but why I

dont know, because it wasnt me who pushed her out. Also a

small voice inside my heart said that a fat diamond ring, two

pairs of hairloom earrings, a big gold necklace, and a brand

new Toyota salon car isnt too bad for four months of Kit Kat

eating and driving up and down the canal road singing Its the

D U T Y F R E E


21/27

So I gritted my teeth and asked him if he wanted her back.

Seeing he missed her and her biryani. But inside I was praying

that he would say no because she did have pointy toenails,

you know. And she said tap instead of type and toash instead

of toast. A total uneducated she was. And also, Im sorry to

say, low-class.

He shook his head. Thanks God.

She got remarried a couple of weeks ago. To the managerof a tandoori restaurant in Dubai. Sheso wanted to visit Dubai.

I was going to take her for her birthday. But she ran away the

week before.

Look at the bright sides. At least you saved on the tickets.

He took out his handkerchief and wiped his glasses. Then

he asked me such a stuppid-type question.Apa, are you happy? Happily married, I mean?

Haw, crack, I laughed. What cracked things you ask!

Im serious, Apa. Are you happily married?

Dont call me Apa.

Sorry. Are you?

Honestly, Jonkers! I said. I mean what stuppid question,no?Am I happily married?What does he mean? Cant he see?

Is he blind or something? By grace of Allah, I have a husband,

a child, a big house, servants, social life, status, cars, cupboards

full of designer joras and jewellery, and so on and so fourth.

Everyone is always saying what a nice life I have. What else

is happiness, haan? Stuppid.

So I waved my arms around my nice cluttered type lounge

M O N I M O H S I N


22/27


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when she came and visited and saw Sharkpur with its mud

houses and big black cows and little black people and the Old

Bag, I mean, his mother and all, she told him then and there

only that if he wanted to marry her, hed have to move to

London, because no way was she going to live in that hole-

hell. She even turned up her nose at Lahore. Imagine! Her

ears and graces! So, anyways after she left, for a year or two

Janoo went mooning about the place. Very depressed and allhe was. But then Janoos older sister, Cobra

You mean Kubra, Apa?

Cobra is my little pet name for her. Because she speaks

with split tongue. Anyways, Cobra then suggested me because

I was one of the most illegible girls of my year at Kinnaird

College,na. And so it was done. And the minute our engage-ment was announced, I fell in love. Didnt think I should fall

in love before because what if engagement didnt take place?

Then I would become a laughing stop. One has to think of

oneself also, na. But you wait and see. It will be exact same

for you.

For a thirty-seven-year-old heap of soiled goods like me?Men are never soiled, Jonkers, only women.

He folded his hanky neatly and replaced it in his shirt

pocket.

But Im not rich. I make a small living running my busi-

ness and looking after my fathers property but Im not, you

know, stinking-rich. Im also not a double for George Clooney

and

M O N I M O H S I N


24/27

He looked down at his shirt that was buttoned all the way

up to his chin.

My clothes?

They are not, you know, fashiony.

Theyre not?

They make you look like a countant.

But I am one.

Okay, okay, forget.Thing is, I dont know what to say to these society girls.

They look snooty and bored. They find me dull and to them,

I probably am dull. That was the thing with Shumi. Talking

to her was so easy . . .

At least you can change your glasses. Best is, get your eyes

lasered. Its become very cheap. Even the poors, like teachersand all are doing laser nowdays.

She was chatty and friendly and genuinely interested in

me.

Id forgotten hes so stuppid. Its total time-waste to tell him

about make-outs like they do on TV where they take really

ugly, old people and in one hour flat make them young andbeautiful. Jonkers is so behind everything. And then he asked

me if I would go along with Aunty Pussy when she went girl-

hunting and made sure she didnt go chasing the wrong types.

He told me to stare her in the right direction. So I told him

that shes not a donkey and that I wasnt sitting on her back

with a stick to make her go this way and that way, like I wanted.

I know I know he said But she listens to you more than

D U T Y F R E E


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dont matter. After Shumaila left the way she did, she feels

she can say whatever she wants to me. I cant open my mouth

without her jumping down my throat. Please go and see the

girls with her.

And then?

Then just tell her the ones you think are unsuitable.

But what type of girl do you want, Jonkers? I dont know

that even. Well I know he likes the cheapster Typhoon andShumaila types but hed better not say that to me. Or Ill slap

him.

I dont want a glamour puss. Nor a spoilt, rich doll. Just

someone who is friendly and kind and speaks to people right

and is normal, I guess.

So you want plain, quiet, mediocre-type.I want someone whos easy to live with.

Uff Allah! Its not like girls are exams, Jonkers. Hard or

easy. Girls are girls. Some are nice and some are not so nice

because they are not from good baggrounds. Thats all.

He asked me what a good bagground was and I said it was

when they had same-to-same money as you and knew the samepeople and went to same places. Stuppid. Doesnt even know

that much. God knows what they taught him in Dull. But then

I reminded myself that he may look like a loser but one thing

Jonkers has never done is bitch about that bitch Shumaila.

Even after she made him into a joke in front of all of Lahore

by running off with her tandoor-wallah, he never said one word

against her It would have been so easy Everyone would believe

M O N I M O H S I N


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say such dirty, filthy things about girls who havent even done

anything to them and they ruin their reputations just like that

and Jonkers didnt even say a word. Not a single thing. Not

even to me. His Apa.

Okay, okay, I sighed, Ill go and see your prospectus brides.

But one thing you tell your mother. Shes not to make any

wishes inside her head without telling me first, okay? Other-

wise Im not coming.What wishes? I dont follow.

Just tell her like I said. Shell follow.

D U T Y F R E E


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http://itunes.apple.com/us/book/isbn9780307889249http://books.google.com/ebooks?as_brr=5&q=9780307889249http://www.indiebound.org/book/9780307889249http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Duty-Free/Moni-Mohsin/e/9780307889249?isbsrc=Y&cm_mmc=Random%20House-_-RandomHouse.com%20Outbound%20Link-_-RandomHouse.com%20Outbound%20Link-_-RandomHouse.com%20Outbound%20Link,%20AFFILIATES-_-Linkshare-_-VD9*lkiWNd8-_-10:1http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0307889246?ie=UTF8&tag=randohouseinc2-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0307889246

duty free by moni mohsin - excerpt

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