by Soniah Kamal
‘Tch,’ Sherry said. ‘I can understand why your mother is always so irritated by you. You’re a teacher. In Dilipabad. And I know you don’t look it or care, but you are getting older by the day.’
‘Would singledom be acceptable if I were still twenty and owned my own thriving business?’
‘No.’
‘Thought so.’ Alys dropped Sunlight into the large cloth bag she was carrying instead of a delicate evening purse, much to her mother’s exasperation.
Dinner was announced and the two friends joined the surge of guests going towards the buffet in the garden. It was a feast of prawns, by far the most expensive delicacy in Pakistan at the moment. Tandoori prawn. Prawn skewer kebabs. Grilled prawns. Prawn pulao. Penne prawns. Deep-fried prawns. Prawn jalfrezi. Prawn korma. Sweet-and-sour prawns. Butterfly prawns. Prawn fried rice. Prawn-stuffed paratha. Prawn cutlets. Prawn salad.
‘Okay, Nadir Sheh, we get it!’ Alys said as she and Sherry joined the buffet line. ‘You can afford all the prawns in the ocean. And I’d thought the flowers ostentatious.’
‘I love prawns,’ Sherry said, taking heaping spoonfuls of each entrée. ‘I’ve only ever eaten them once, and even then we only got four each. This is why you marry rich: an endless array of prawns whenever you want and prepared however you want.’
‘I think it’s selfish!’ Alys spooned a small serving of prawn salad onto her plate. ‘What about the people who don’t like prawns? Or have allergies?’
‘How sad to be allergic to prawns,’ Sherry said, as she followed Alys to the seating area, where guests were having trouble setting their plates down among the floral table decor.
Kaleen came to their rescue and led them to a table he’d already cleared of flowers as best as he could.
‘Aha,’ Kaleen said, pointing to Sherry’s full plate and then to his own, ‘I see we have prawns in common.’
‘Yes,’ Sherry said, ‘we do.’
‘Dear sweet Alys,’ Kaleen said, ‘your plate is shamefully empty. Allow me to pick prawns for you in the hope that my choice will please your palate.’
‘Oh!’ Alys stood up abruptly. ‘Many thanks for your offer, Kaleen Sahib, but I see a friend I must talk to. Sherry here will be more than happy to keep you company.’ Alys smiled wickedly at Sherry. ‘Please do discuss all the prawns you have in common.’
Valentine Darsee, in the buffet line, choosing a single prawn from each entrée, watched Alys rise from a table and stride across the tent. How gracefully she walks in her sari, he thought, and balances her plate at the same time.
‘What are you thinking, babes?’ Hammy said, appearing by Darsee’s side as she and Sammy and Jaans cut the buffet line to stand with him. There were a few murmurs but, since everyone hopes to cut some line sometime in life, no one made much of a fuss.
‘Not thinking anything,’ Darsee said.
‘I love prawns,’ Hammy said, happily ladling penne prawns onto her plate.
‘I’m quite partial to prawns myself,’ Darsee said, ‘but what about the people who are allergic or don’t like them?’
‘Sammy doesn’t like prawns,’ Hammy said.
‘Shame on you, Sammy-whammy,’ Jaans said to Sammy, ‘to dislike prawns in the face of such abundance. Darsee, did you hear Nadir’s honeymoon plans? I told him, “Cheethay, leave some countries for another time,” but, no, he wants to take Fiede on a world tour she’ll never forget. Wife, when are you taking me on a tour I’ll never forget?’
‘When you deserve it.’ Sammy glared at Jaans. ‘I hate seafood.’
‘Eat the naan.’ Jaans shoved bread at her. ‘Since you’re being ungrateful, it’s all you deserve.’
‘I’m getting dessert.’ Sammy flung the bread onto Jaan’s full plate. ‘Thankfully, you can’t force prawns into desserts.’
‘Let’s check on Bungles first,’ Hammy said. ‘The mother might have devoured him by now. Fortunately, Jena herself is standoffish; otherwise that brother of ours seems ready to be a doormat.’
‘Jena is just shy,’ Jaans said. ‘I’ve known girls like her. Too scared they might say something wrong and end up losing the proposal.’
‘There is no proposal,’ Hammy said.
‘And,’ Sammy added, ‘don’t you dare put such a notion into Bungles’s head, Jaans.’
‘I don’t have to,’ Jaans said. ‘He’s not a child. What Brother Bungles is, though,’ Jaans made a rude face, ‘is a doormat, a zun mureed, a woman worshipper who will be perfectly happy to be a joru ka ghulam, a slave to his wife. He’ll put her on a pedestal and expect them to be best friends.’
Sammy made a wistful face; she wouldn’t mind an uxorious husband for herself.
‘So what?’ Darsee asked Jaans.
‘So,’ Hammy said grimly, ‘all the more reason Bungles needs to marry someone we can mould to our liking.’
‘That’s disgusting,’ Darsee said. ‘Would you like to be moulded?’
‘I’d like to see someone try,’ Hammy said, gazing into Darsee’s eyes.
‘Brother Bungles,’ Jaans said, ‘is fully aware how lucky he is to have found a girl as beautiful as Jena Binat still single.’
‘Have you ever wondered,’ Sammy sneered, ‘why Jena the Beautiful is unmarried?’
‘Why?’ Jaans asked.
‘Yes, why exactly?’ Darsee said.
‘Far be it for me to indulge in gossip,’ Hammy said, looking up at Darsee, ‘but Sammy and I have it on excellent authority that her mother belongs to a very bad family.’
‘What are you talking about, Hammy?’ Darsee frowned.
‘They say,’ Sammy said, ‘Pinkie Binat’s ancestors come from a background of prostitution. Pre-partition, but still.’
‘Who says?’ Darsee said.
‘Everyone,’ Hammy said. ‘They say it wasn’t even at the level of a courtesan but, rather, a cheap back-alley tart. Honestly, before I began investigations into the mother’s family for Bungles’s sake, I didn’t even know there was a hierarchy of prostitutes. I thought they were all equal.’
‘Where’s the proof they come from that?’ Darsee said.
‘Tinkle Binat told me. Why would she malign her own family?’
‘Because,’ Darsee said, ‘the Binat brothers are estranged.’
‘Estrangement,’ Sammy said, ‘doesn’t mean you concoct dirty ruinous rumours about your relatives.’
‘Where’s concrete proof,’ Darsee said, ‘that any of us truly descends from our claims?’
‘I’ll give you proof in the Binats’ case,’ Hammy said. ‘That mother of theirs might dress well, but the second she opens her mouth her style of talking, her demeanour, everything, speaks of an unsavoury ancestry. She’s all raspy and graspy like vamps and prostitutes in films. Like mother like daughters, I say, though you can detect the lack of breeding the most in Lady.’
‘Tone of voice is hardly proof,’ Darsee said. He put down his plate.
‘It’s not not proof,’ Hammy said. ‘There’s nothing to disprove they aren’t slut spawn.’
‘What a pleasant phrase,’ Darsee said. ‘Is it original?’
‘Thank you! Yes!’ Hammy said. ‘Now you’ll understand why Sammy and I have always felt so sorry for the Binat sisters. They can dress like Audrey Hepburn as much as they want, but it’s not going to confer class on them. Tinkle Binat told me’ – Hammy lowered her voice for effect – ‘that Pinkie’s lineage was the real reason for the brothers’ rift. Goga Binat demanded his brother divorce her, but Bark Binat refused on account of his five daughters, and so what choice did Goga and Tinkle have but to disinherit them and banish them to D-bad.’
‘Honestly,’ Sammy said, ‘you should always tell the truth about your origins, especially in matters matrimonial, or be ready to face the consequences.’
‘If this is true,’ Darsee said, ‘then it was good of Bark Binat to stick by his wife and daughters even if it meant losing his inheritance. They’re not her daughters alone. They’re his too.’
&nbs
p; Hammy and Sammy exchanged a look.
‘That puts a nice spin on the whole wretched business,’ Sammy said.
‘Look, Val,’ Hammy said, ‘you have to knock some sense into Bungles’s head. Jena will not do. Even if my entire family was willing to overlook Jena’s hailing from a low-class prostitute, which we aren’t, her family has issues. They are unsuitable girls from an unsuitable family.’
‘True.’ Darsee pursed his lips. ‘True.’
Alys fled Kaleen’s cloying overtures, only to find him following her and Sherry following him. Before she’d even set her plate down at her family’s table, he was enquiring yet again if he could select her prawns. Alys’s annoyed gaze met Jena’s beseeching one: Bungles was sitting next to her. He was talking about whale-watching off the California coast and the aurora borealis in Alaska, two destinations on the NadirFiede honeymoon itinerary, which was available at each table in lamination for everyone’s viewing pleasure. It was clear from Jena’s face that he had yet to propose and that she was beginning to panic.
Dinner was fast coming to an end and the walima ceremony to a close; if he did not propose soon, there would be no more events at which he could do so. Yet Bungles did not seem like a man about to propose. He was busy eating falooda, taking dainty bites of the vermicelli in rose syrup and milk, all the while smiling at Jena with what anyone would only describe as utter devotion. No wonder Jena was losing her mind. Their mother was frantic, Alys could tell, from the way her eyes were darting all over Bungles, as if darts could prick him into action.
And then there was her father. Goga and Tinkle Binat had indeed arrived with great pomp and show but, luckily, boasting to all of the million weddings at which their appearance was vital, had left early. Mr Binat had been terrified at encountering them and yet, when they’d completely ignored him, he’d become despondent. He sat now, his hand cupping his chin, utterly dejected and asking, every so often, what he could possibly have ever done to deserve his brother’s conduct.
Alys would have ignored her family’s behaviour as usual were it not for Darsee, who kept walking by them to get to the buffet. Each time she saw him, she thought of the book in her bag, his fingers on hers. Why did he keep coming this way? The one time Bungles had gone to the toilet, Mrs Binat loudly instructed Jena that, the second she became Mrs Bungles, she was to search for equally suitable boys for her sisters. Another time Darsee passed them, Lady’s soda spilt down her bosom, which she’d patted dry most indecorously. The last time Darsee had descended on the buffet, Mari was giving yet another female guest with a bare midriff a lecture on how women should not be upset over Islam’s injunction to dress chastely, because the same was commanded of men.
From the corner of her eye, Alys spied Darsee coming their way again, this time with Hammy, Sammy, and Jaans.
‘Hello, all.’ Jaans waved at the Binats. ‘How is everyone? Enjoying the prawns?’
Kaleen turned to the new arrivals. ‘My good name is Farhat Kaleen. I am a recent England return. I am a physiatrist.’
‘Psychiatrists are more than welcome in this loony bin of a Lahore,’ Jaans said.
‘Physiatrist,’ Kaleen stressed. ‘Physiatrist. I deal with rehabilitation of the body in the event of accidents and chronic pain, and I am setting up private practice.’
There was a lull before Bungles took it upon himself to introduce his group.
‘Valentine Darsee?’ Kaleen’s eyes grew huge. ‘Nephew of Begum Beena dey Bagh?’
‘Guilty as charged,’ Darsee said.
‘I have been longing to meet you, sir!’ Kaleen grabbed Darsee’s hand and swung it vigorously. ‘Your ’unty Beena is my great benefactress. Have you guessed who I am? I am your cousin Annie’s doctor! Dr Farhat Kaleen. It is thanks to me that she has made startling improvements. By God, when I first saw her I thought she would not last the night, and now she sits upright and is showing an interest in fashion shows again. I’ve been encouraging her to return to modelling – why not, why should a cane stop her or anybody? Your dear cousin Annie calls me her miracle worker. Though I must say I have a model patient in Annie. Ha-ha. Model patient, no pun intended. Valentine Darsee! Such a pleasure to meet you! Had I known I was going to meet you here, I would have …’ Kaleen stopped for a second, unsure of what he would have done differently. ‘I trust we will be seeing much of each other, for, given Annie’s health, I am frequently at your ’unty’s most grand estate, the Versailles of Pakistan.’
Darsee extracted his hand from Farhat Kaleen’s grip and perfunctorily announced, ‘It’s time to go.’
‘Say goodbye to your friends, baby bro,’ Hammy said. ‘Up. Now.’
‘What’s the rush?’ Bungles said, gazing at Jena, who was staring dully into her lap.
‘The rush,’ Sammy said, ‘is we have to get ready for Fazool and Moolee’s New Year’s party.’
Bungles rose, but before relief could settle permanently on Hammy and Sammy’s faces, he invited Jena to the New Year’s party: could she go?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Hammy smacked Bungles’s shoulder once again for good measure and mimicked Mrs Binat, who’d risen like a peacock spreading its fan: ‘“Of course Jena may go; she’s all yours. But surely you cannot expect young Jena to go without a chaperone, so she will be happy to be accompanied by all her sisters.”’ And then she imitated Bungles’s response to Mrs Binat: ‘“But of course, I meant to invite them all.”’
‘Why the hell did you invite Jena to begin with?’ Sammy snarled. They were in Darsee’s car on their way to the New Year’s party, having gone to their homes to change out of their wedding finery and into party clothes, which, for Hammy and Sammy, meant the skimpiest outfits the current state of their slim figures would allow.
‘Your puppy-like behaviour is bad enough,’ Hammy said, ‘but that mother has apparently been informing the world that there is soon to be a wedding.’
‘You’re stringing Jena along, Bungles,’ Sammy said, ‘and that’s not very nice.’
‘Let Brother Bungles have his fun,’ Jaans said. ‘Jena’s an adult!’
‘Jena is an adult!’ Hammy said to Bungles. ‘She’s thirty-two years old to your twenty-five. Seven years’ age difference.’
‘She could be a hundred years older than me for all I care,’ Bungles said, a bit cowed by the glares his sisters and even Darsee were giving him, though he glared back. ‘And I certainly don’t care who her mother is or where she comes from.’
‘We care,’ Hammy said, ‘so that’s that.’
‘It’s not just the mother factor,’ Darsee said. ‘I don’t believe Jena Binat is interested in you. She sits there without a smile. She barely says two words when you ask her a question. If she’s a gold-digger, she’s not a very good one.’
‘Perhaps,’ Bungles said in a hesitant voice, ‘she’s not a gold-digger at all.’
‘Her mother is a gold-digger!’ Hammy said. ‘“Like mother, like daughter,” they say.’
‘Why should I listen to “they”?’ Bungles asked. ‘Who is “they”?’
‘We are they,’ Hammy and Sammy thundered simultaneously.
‘But I like Jena,’ Bungles said. ‘I like her very much.’
‘That’s because the mother has put a hex on you,’ Hammy said. ‘I can’t believe you invited Jena and her sisters to the party. Fazool is going to freak. You know how exclusive and classy she keeps her parties. The Binat sisters probably can’t believe their lucky stars. Let’s hope their car gets a flat tyre and we are spared all five frights.’
For perhaps the first time in his life, Ajmer did not get lost on the way to an address, and so it happened that the Binat sisters arrived at the party at the same time that Darsee’s car did. As Bungles’s and Jena’s eyes met, Alys was finally convinced that her mother was right: Bungles meant to propose at the stroke of midnight. There could be no other meaning behind the tender look he was giving Jena, who, in her turn, looked away from him, clearly overcome.
The group
entered the gate to the mansion and walked to the front door, behind which music was playing. The door opened and Hammy and Sammy were air-kissed by a slinky woman in a silver halter top and QaziKreations’ most expensive mohti, the miniskirt dhoti shimmering with semi-precious stones; a man beside her grinned toothily when he saw them all.
‘Amazing outfits! Love the shoes!’ the woman said, looking Hammy and Sammy up and down as they tottered in red-soled black platforms. Hammy was in black leather biker shorts, a red lace bustier, and a black mesh bolero, and Sammy was in red leather biker shorts, a black lace bustier, and a red mesh bolero.
‘Thank yous, thank yous,’ Hammy-Sammy said, complimenting Fazool’s mohti and her red-soled nude Louboutins in return. Hammy introduced her to the Binats.
‘Sisters Binat, these are our darling friends, Fauzia “Fazool” Fazal and her husband, Hamid “the Moolee” Fazal,’ Hammy said. ‘Friends, these are the five Binat sisters. Bungles graciously invited them. I hope you don’t mind.’
Fazool’s eyes narrowed as she took in Mari’s local garb, so out of place at such a happening event as her New Year’s bash, at Qitty in a crushed-velvet black tent, at Lady in white jeans and a T-shirt that said UNMARRIAGEABLE in glitter and showed off her ample cleavage. Fazool glanced at Alys, whose chest also caused her envy. As for Jena – why did God bless some girls with so much beauty? Oh well, Fazool was rich and up there in the social register and clearly they were not, so she gave them the vapid smile reserved for nobodies who could not be completely ignored and said, ‘Do come in.’
‘Yes! Do!’ Moolee ran his fingers through the curly chest hair crawling out of his half-buttoned Versace shirt. ‘The more girls, the merrier. Bungles, Darsee, Jaans, good to see you all. Hammy-Sammy, as usual – looking ready to mingle and tingle.’
Moolee gave Hammy and Sammy lingering hugs. He turned to the Binats with thirsty eyes. ‘We look forward to mingling and tingling with you all, don’t we, Fazool? Now, which one of you pretty sisters wants to hug me first?’