by Soniah Kamal
‘You’ll be fine,’ Alys said. ‘I plan to walk for an hour or so before returning home. Do you want me to send Ajmer to you before I head home? That way, if you want to return, just make an excuse that an emergency has come up and he’s come to get you.’
‘Yes!’ Jena said. ‘I’d rather face Mummy’s wrath than sit there if I’m feeling awkward.’
The car glided through leafy suburbs before turning in to one of the park’s back lots and, from there, taking another turn onto a wide dirt road. The dirt road led up to Aibak Polo Ground, where privileged children learnt to horse ride and some of them grew up to play polo on the impeccably mowed green ground.
The polo match had begun, and Alys and Jena could see majestic horses galloping at full speed towards goals, their coats polished by the sun, their riders in crisp whites wielding their mallets as they went after the wooden ball. Jena got out of the car and teetered for a moment on her shoes before turning resolutely towards the polo ground and clubhouse.
Ajmer drove back down the dirt road and parked amid a row of other good cars. Alys got out and told him she’d be back soon. Ajmer nodded. Pressing PLAY on her Walkman – she and Jena had recorded English songs on one side of the tape and Pakistani songs on the other – she hummed to ‘Material Girl’ and jogged to the clay track that ran around the periphery of the Race Course Park. Once an actual racecourse, until betting on horses was banned for political expediency in the name of Islam, the course had been converted into a sprawling public park.
Alys passed the Japanese garden and pagoda. Every few steps the park gardeners pruned leaves and deposited seeds, their shalwars pulled up over ashy knees, their sun-wrinkled legs planted firmly on the earth. She nodded a greeting as she walked by, and they nodded back. She thought of her father and the calm and refuge he’d found among flora and fauna. She passed by a couple seated on a bench, eating oranges in front of impeccably manicured flower beds. The veiled woman was feeding the bearded man with her fingers, and a citrus scent floated over the jogging track from the orange peels gathered in her lap.
Stopping to stretch her calves, Alys gazed at some boys playing cricket. The wickets were red bricks set upright on their narrow ends. The fielders stood waiting in their jeans and knockoff T-shirts. The bowler was good; the batsman was nervous; the rest was history. She switched the tape to side B, and Nazia Hassan’s seductive ‘Aap Jaisa Koi’ came on, followed by ‘Disco Deewane’. Nazia and her brother, Zoheb, were the first Pakistani pop singers Alys and Jena had heard and loved in Jeddah. Nazia had died earlier that year, and the sisters had mourned her passing.
Alys jogged by the artificial lake with paddleboats chained to one end for the winter and climbed up the steep man-made hill. Standing at the summit, she caught her breath as she looked out at the landscaped park, at the children in the playground, at groups of young men studying or napping, at the flock of sparrows in the blue-grey sky.
A little over an hour later, as she neared the polo ground, Alys hoped Jena was having a good time. She wiped sweat off her forehead and stepped into the car park. Where was the car? Her eyes swept over the rows. Ajmer had parked by the turnstile entrance. She was sure of it.
‘Suno, bhai – listen, brother,’ she asked a driver leaning against a Civic, ‘have you seen a black Accord? A driver with a red moustache?’
The man shook his head. He called out to another driver, who informed Alys that the man she was referring to had driven away ages ago. In fact, right after she’d got out.
Alys stared. ‘Did he say where he was going?’
‘Not to me.’
‘Oh my God,’ Alys said to no one in particular. Hadn’t she told Ajmer to remain here? She had. Didn’t he know he was supposed to wait for her to return from her walk? He did. Maybe he went to buy some cigarettes. Or to the toilet. But why would he take the car to drive to a toilet when the park had public toilets?
Alys bit her thumb. Even if she caught a rickshaw and went home, she could hardly leave Jena stranded and frantic when she wouldn’t be able to find the car, or Ajmer. And Alys couldn’t call Jena once she got home, because she didn’t have the polo club’s phone number. She shook her head in frustration as she marched up the dust road towards the polo ground. She knew she looked a sight, with her hair plastered to her face, her sneakers caked with mud, armpit sweat stains, and no dupatta, because she didn’t believe in wearing one – men should avert their eyes from women, rather than women being forced to cover themselves – and oh, she must stink.
Still, Alys was taken aback at the degree of hush that fell over the polo-match spectators when she appeared. A solid block of designer sunglasses looked her up and down, saw she was not one of them, and turned back to the field.
Alys scanned the stand.
‘Excuse me,’ she finally said loudly, ‘I’m looking for Fahad, Humeria, and Sumeria Bingla.’
And who should rise, in culottes and a Swarovski-embellished cardigan, but Mrs Nadir Sheh – aka Fiede Fecker.
‘They’re in the clubhouse,’ Fiede said like a queen addressing a peasant. ‘You may enter from the back, or the front.’
Alys chose the front entrance. If the spectators wanted to gawk at her, then she would give them ample opportunity to do so. Past the stand, past the chairs, past sponsors’ banners, past overdressed youth, past oily uncles and grande dames with facelifts, until she arrived at the front entrance and went down the steps into a hall.
She immediately saw Jena. She was perched on a sofa, her bare foot resting on a stool. Bungles squatted beside her, holding an ice pack to her ankle. Hammy and Sammy hovered over them. Jaans was sipping from his liquor flask. Darsee towered over them all.
‘What happened?’ Alys said, hurrying to her sister.
Everyone turned at her voice. Relief flooded Jena’s face.
‘Alys! Babes! Oh my goodness,’ Hammy said, ‘are you all right? You look like a horse dragged you through a swamp.’
‘I was walking,’ Alys said. ‘In the park.’
‘Walking?’ Sammy said. ‘In the park? Without a dupatta?’
‘Jena,’ Alys said, ignoring them, ‘what happened to your ankle?’
As it turned out, a divot-stomping session and Jena in Qitty’s heels.
‘Her entire ankle turned,’ Bungles said, worry etched on his face. ‘She needs an X-ray. I went out a couple of times to look for your car in the car park but couldn’t find—’
‘Alys, where is our car?’ Jena managed to ask through her pain.
‘I don’t know,’ Alys said, baffled. ‘Ajmer is MIA. I hope he’s okay. Is there a phone here?’
‘I’ve been trying to call Uncle’s,’ Jena said. ‘Busy signal.’
Darsee took a flip phone out of his pocket and held it out to Alys. ‘Use this. Everyone should get one. Very convenient, especially in emergencies.’
Alys had seen a few people carrying them. Mrs Naheed had one. Alys had not used one before and looked at it for a moment.
‘Dial zero-four-two,’ Hammy said, ‘and then your home number.’
‘Hammy doesn’t have one yet,’ Jaans said, ‘but she knows all about it.’
‘You don’t have one either,’ Hammy snapped back.
‘I’m waiting for Sammy to buy me one.’
Sammy said, ‘Why don’t you go to work and earn it yourself?’
‘Oye,’ Jaans said, ‘don’t get too uppity or I’ll spank you.’
‘And I,’ Sammy said, ‘will withhold your pocket money.’
‘Anyone can make money,’ Jaans said. ‘Your company could go down the drain, baby, but my lineage will always remain. In this marriage, I contribute everlasting gains.’
‘You can take your lineage,’ Sammy said, ‘and shove it up your rear end.’
Jaans flushed. ‘You better not get fat. Ever.’
‘Fuck off, Mr Potato,’ Sammy said, jabbing her husband in his spare tyre.
‘If I’d known you were capable of such vulgarity, I would’ve never
married you.’
‘You knew,’ Sammy said. ‘You need to stop drinking for two minutes in order to realise how lucky you are I married you.’
‘It’s bad wives like you who cause good men like me to turn to drink. I know it’s Hammy who’s been poisoning you with all this women’s rights crap.’
Hammy hissed, ‘Sammy has a mind of her own, you know.’
‘Oh, shut up, Jaans,’ Sammy said. ‘I was no different when we were dating.’
‘Stop it,’ Bungles said. ‘Both of you. Jaans, don’t speak to my sisters like that.’
Alys returned Jena’s quick pleased look. She too was heartened to see that Bungles had defended his sisters.
‘Dating is different, Sammy.’ Jaans scowled. ‘Once you are lucky enough to become a wife, the rules change.’
‘Oh, come on, Jaans!’ Darsee said. ‘That mentality really needs to change.’
‘It does,’ Bungles said, ‘and in the meantime, Jena is in pain and does not need to be subjected to you two fighting. Alys, please call your home.’
Alys took Darsee’s flip phone as fast as she could, making sure to not accidentally touch him. Stepping outside, she was relieved when her mother answered on the first ring.
‘Thank God you picked up. Jena has been trying to call for ages.’
‘Why?’ Mrs Binat said. ‘Has he proposed?’
‘No! And Ajmer has disappeared.’
‘I know,’ Mrs Binat said gleefully. ‘I told him to drop you both off and come back home so that Bungles has ample time to propose.’
‘What!’
‘And, Alys, you too are ageing by the day. You also need to get married, and plenty of eligible bachelors must be at the polo match to come to your rescue when they find out you need a ride home.’
‘For your information, Mummy, Jena has twisted her ankle and is in a lot of pain. We need to come home immediately. Send the car back.’
‘Tell Bungles to drop you. Allah keray, God willing, he proposes in the car.’
‘If he proposes while she’s in extreme pain, then he’s a sadist.’
‘Who cares when and how a proposal comes. Foolish girl. Sit there and make sure that he asks her to marry him,’ Mrs Binat said, and hung up.
Alys returned indoors. Jena was looking paler and her foot more swollen.
‘Thank you,’ Alys said, returning the phone to Darsee. Why was he staring at her so intently? If he’d deemed her not good-looking when she was dressed up for a wedding, he was probably having conniptions at how she looked after a strenuous walk.
‘My pleasure,’ Darsee said, slipping the phone back into his pocket.
‘Valentine always comes to the rescue,’ Hammy said, not pleased with the way Darsee was looking at Alys. ‘Don’t you, Valentine?’
‘No, I don’t.’ Darsee turned to Alys. ‘Were you able to get through?’
‘Yes,’ Alys said, and murmured that Ajmer had misunderstood her directions and gone home. ‘Bungles, could you please drop us? Our uncle lives in Jamshed Colony.’
She ignored the look Hammy-Sammy shared. Jamshed Colony had once been a very prestigious residential area of Lahore and had only seen a sharp decline in the last fifteen years, as commercial enterprises turned it into one big shopping centre.
‘I think we should take Jena straight for an X-ray,’ Bungles said. ‘There’s a first-rate private clinic ten minutes away.’
‘It’s a good facility,’ Darsee said.
‘Thank you for the offer,’ Alys said to Bungles, even as she stopped herself from informing Darsee that no one had asked his opinion. ‘But I think we should go home.’
‘Look,’ Bungles said, ‘the swelling is getting worse even as we speak.’
‘I want to go home,’ Jena said. ‘My uncle is a doctor—’
‘Doctor of?’ Darsee said.
‘Pulmonology,’ Alys said.
‘Your sister doesn’t need her lungs heard,’ Darsee said. ‘She needs her ankle X-rayed.’
Alys said coldly, ‘My uncle knows the best doctors for every ailment.’
‘Jena,’ Bungles said, pleading, ‘what if something is broken? You’ll just be wasting time going home. Let the clinic take a look. Clearly your pain is unbearable.’
‘It’s not that bad,’ Jena said, even as she groaned.
‘Okay,’ Alys said. ‘Clinic.’
She stared as Bungles proceeded to lift Jena in his arms and carry her out of the clubhouse. It was like the scene in Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility when Marianne Dashwood slipped in the rain and Willoughby carried her home in his arms. It was not a good omen, Alys thought, as she snatched her sister’s shoe off the floor and hurried after them. Marianne and Willoughby did not enjoy a happy ending, no matter how promising their start. Worse, everyone outside was now going to witness Bungles being a gallant knight, and Jena, who had not asked to be swept up in his arms, was going to be the talk of the town.
Hammy waited until the club door shut behind Alys before saying, ‘What did Bungles just do? Jena could easily have walked. It’s all a big act.’
‘I did see her ankle twist,’ Jaans said. ‘I think she’s really hurt.’
‘It’s a ploy,’ Hammy said firmly. ‘What do girls like this call it – catching a man, trapping a man, grabbing a man. Right, Sammy?’
‘Right, Hammy,’ Sammy said. ‘In the olden days they’d get pregnant. These days they sprain their ankles.’
‘Everyone must have seen him carry her,’ Hammy said.
‘So?’ Jaans said.
‘So,’ Sammy said, ‘they’ll think something is going on.’
‘Something is going on,’ Jaans said.
‘Nothing,’ Hammy said, ‘had better be going on unless Sammy and I approve. And, in this case, we disapprove. There’s the cheapster mother’s family reputation to consider and the family itself. A loser father. A fundamentalist sister. A fat sister. A spitting sister. A decorum-less sister. I thought I was going to die when Alys appeared looking like a swamp creature. Can’t they afford private gym memberships?’
‘Lots of people exercise in public parks,’ Darsee said. ‘The Race Course Park was one of my mother’s favourite places to walk.’
‘Of course,’ Hammy said. ‘It’s a very respectable park, and I’d surely love to walk here too. But I’d wear a dupatta, and I’m quite sure, Val, your mother did too. Being modern does not mean being inappropriate.’
‘Jaans,’ Sammy said, ‘would you let your sister gallivant half undressed in a public place?’
‘My sister,’ Jaans said, scowling, ‘has a treadmill in her bedroom. No need to even leave the house.’
‘And you, Valentine?’ Hammy said. ‘Would you want Jujeena going around like that?’
‘Up to Juju,’ Darsee said.
‘Juju would never do that,’ Hammy said. ‘I bet Alys Binat’s eyes weren’t so great today in that sweaty, blotchy face.’
‘Actually,’ Darsee said, ‘I think the fresh air made them even more luminous.’
Hammy pouted and headed outside the clubhouse, where a million amused voices rushed to inform them that Bungles had left with his damsel in distress and her dishevelled sister and that they were instructed to follow. Darsee, bothered by exactly how radiant he’d found Alys’s eyes, had planned to go home. Instead, Hammy, Sammy, and Jaans climbed into his Mercedes and he headed towards the clinic.
CHAPTER NINE
The clinic was an excellent facility, as all facilities that cater to excellent people tend to be, because excellent people demand excellence, unlike those who are grateful for what they receive. A nurse flipped Jena into a wheelchair and took her for an X-ray. The verdict: a mild ankle sprain. Even though the nurse said that an overnight stay was unnecessary and Jena agreed, Bungles immediately booked her into a VIP suite. Alys wondered how much the room was going to cost as Jena was lifted into a plush bed, where she lay elegant in her jeans and turtleneck, fiddling with the controls to elevate her foot. She’d been given
a nice painkiller and was beginning to look relaxed.
Hammy and Sammy arrived. Their faces grew pinched at Bungles’s insistence that an overnight stay was vital, no matter who said what.
‘I’m not budging till Jena is discharged,’ he said, gazing at her with overwhelming concern.
‘You have to budge,’ Hammy and Sammy said simultaneously.
Alys was enjoying the show that was the sisters trying to separate their brother from Jena, until she realised that Bungles intended to spend the night. Did he mean to completely obliterate Jena’s reputation? As it was, there were already going to be vicious rumours over Jena allowing herself to be carried by him.
‘Only I’ll be staying with Jena,’ Alys said firmly. She went to the reception to call home and give her mother the news that Jena had been admitted for the night.
‘Good girls!’ Mrs Binat said. ‘Jena immobile in bed. Bungles by her side. If this isn’t a recipe for a proposal, I don’t know what is.’
‘Jena is in no state of mind to receive a proposal,’ Alys whispered furiously into the phone. ‘And if Bungles proposes while she’s drugged up, I’ll doubt his state of mind. Now, please ask Qitty and Mari to prepare an overnight bag with a change of clothes for me and also pack the books on my nightstand.’
A little later, Mrs Binat breezed into the clinic with a bag for Alys and pillows galore, as if Jena had been admitted for the next month. Mari, Qitty, and Lady were right behind her. Lady was declaring it most unfair that nothing fun ever happened to her. Mrs Binat kissed Jena, all the while exclaiming what a first-class champion Bungles was to be ‘taking such wonderful care of my terribly injured daughter’.
‘It’s a mild sprain,’ Alys said, drowning out her mother. ‘We wouldn’t even be here if Bungles had not insisted Jena be kept for observation.’
‘Chup ker, be quiet,’ Mrs Binat said. ‘Oh, Bungles, look at my poor daughter, how frail, how helpless—’ She stopped abruptly. Perhaps Jena as Invalid Supreme might turn Bungles off. ‘But my Jena is a fighter. When my daughters were little they got malaria, vomit everywhere, though Jena’s vomit was of a very dignified hue, and within days she was up and back to normal. Haan, jee! Yes, sir! My womb has produced those rare creatures: girls who are dainty but also tough. And their wombs will produce just as well. Not to worry! Even Qitty’s womb is in tip-top shape; all she needs is a bit of dieting.’