Unmarriageable

by Soniah Kamal

  On the ride back, Kaleen wanted everyone to tell him their exact impressions of Versailles of Pakistan as well as of Beena dey Bagh and Annie. Was Versailles not sophisticated? Was Annie not marvellous? Was Beena dey Bagh not majestic?

  Bobia and Haji Looclus praised the estate and the pious Hajjan mother and her daughter to Kaleen’s satisfaction, as did Sherry’s siblings, their tongues loosening as soon as they left Versailles.

  Alys, however, was not as forthcoming as Kaleen would have preferred. He did not like her tone at all when she said, ‘Beena dey Bagh certainly enjoys praise and compliments.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t she?’ he snapped, thanking his lucky stars yet again that he’d avoided marrying her, and he took over the exaltations until they were parked in his driveway.

  Once Sherry settled everyone in for the night, she tiptoed to Alys’s bedroom. Alys opened the door, her smile matching Sherry’s. Sherry went straight to the almirah and extracted a pack of cigarettes from under a pile of spare quilts.

  ‘This used to be Kaleen’s daughter’s bedroom before she returned to England, and now it’s my smoking room.’ Sherry opened up the pack. ‘It’s also the most remote room in the house, and I thought you’d like that.’

  Alys cranked open the window. A heady scent of night-blooming jasmine wafted in. The two friends discussed Beena dey Bagh and Annie. Annie seemed a nice enough girl, they decided. Alys mentioned that Darsee would not be as miserable with her as she’d like him to be.

  Alys informed Sherry about Wickaam and Miss Jahanara Ana Aan and assured her, as she had Nona, that she was quite the opposite of heartbroken. She entertained Sherry with tales from school and of Mrs Naheed constantly gloating about how Gin and Rum had both been proposed to on account of looking irresistible in their QaziKreations outfits.

  ‘I have a good mind,’ Alys said, ‘to tell her that maybe the proposals should be directed to the outfits. Anyway, Rose-Nama’s mother is still demanding that I apologise for saying the desire for sex can lead to early marriages. You know better than most, Sherry, that legal sex is a big reason people in Pakistan get married.’

  Sherry told Alys that she was quite enjoying the conjugal duties of being Mrs Kaleen, even though they slept in separate bedrooms.

  ‘Kaleen snores like a truck, and apparently I snore too; thus he very shyly suggested that we should try separate rooms for sleeping purposes. I jumped on the offer. I’ve been sleeping alone for too many years to suddenly be comfortable with someone else in bed. Of course, I hop, skip, and jump to his bedroom for a visit when he asks, which is often, and I always return very satisfied. Since I don’t have anyone else to compare my husband to, I’m quite sure it’s as good as it can get. In fact, it is everything I’d dreamt of and more. I’m married, and yet I have my own space.’

  ‘I’m happy you are happy,’ Alys said simply.

  ‘And how is Jena? Better?’

  ‘Much better,’ Alys said.

  ‘My mother was saying the same thing.’ Sherry dropped her cigarette butt into a bottle with water. ‘Allah ka shukur hai, thanks be to God. I was worried about her. No man is worth losing one’s heart or one’s looks over, especially if one looks like Jena.’

  ‘A lot of good her looks have done her.’

  ‘Kismet,’ Sherry said. ‘Look at me.’

  ‘You’ve always sold yourself too short.’

  ‘Now that Kaleen has bought me, I quite realise my worth.’

  ‘Yuck,’ Alys said, smacking Sherry on the arm. ‘What a way to put it!’

  Sherry opened the cabinet and took out a spray deodoriser. ‘This thing is so expensive. But I can afford it.’

  ‘Which reminds me,’ Alys said, ‘I would like to spend my morning in bed, lazing away, without being hauled off anywhere if that’s all right with you.’

  ‘Fine by me.’ Sherry showed Alys how to buzz through to the kitchen. ‘If your majesty wants tea, breakfast, et cetera, in bed.’

  ‘I want,’ Alys said.

  ‘Imagine,’ Sherry said. ‘This buzzer could have been yours, and I could have been visiting you.’

  ‘Be quiet,’ Alys said as she climbed into bed, ‘and goodnight and sweet dreams, before I remind you of my views on that.’

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The following week was spent sightseeing and picnicking at Faisal Mosque, Daman-e-Koh, Rawal Lake, and shopping in Jinnah Supermarket. During the evenings, they would gather around a TV drama or a romance or action film before bedtime. Alys and Sherry would catch a quick midnight smoke and chit-chat. Sherry hosted a luncheon for her new friends, who were the wives of Kaleen’s friends. They were nice enough women, interested in being skinny, holidays and shopping, throwing costume parties, outdoing each other through their children’s accomplishments, and bonding over the incompetence of their servants. When Alys teased her about her new best friends, Sherry was a good sport.

  ‘Rather happy dimwits than a cynical crab like you,’ Sherry said, smiling. ‘Anyway, I have my translation projects to keep my brain oiled and, honestly, Kaleen encourages me to buy all the books I want.’

  That evening, when Alys made her routine phone call to Jena, she acknowledged that while Farhat Kaleen could be faulted for many a thing, being a miserly husband was not one of them, and both sisters were pleased for Sherry.

  Alys sensed a returning melancholy in Jena’s voice. Nona confirmed that Jena was certainly less lively than she’d been the previous week, and Nona suspected the cause. Had Alys seen the current issue of Social Lights?

  ‘I recommend you suffer through this issue,’ Nona said. ‘Bungles, Hammy-Sammy, and gang are prominently featured.’

  After Alys hung up, she sent Sherry’s cook to the market to buy the issue. The issue had a special section devoted to the luxe and snazzy vacations enjoyed by Pakistan’s VIPs. The gang’s week of rest and relaxation in the Maldives had a full page to itself. There they were, all smiles and sun and sunglasses and aqua, as if clueless that they’d left a heartbroken girl in their wake. Hammy, Sammy, Jaans, posing on a yacht. Darsee and his sister, Jujeena, in scuba gear. In another photo, Bungles in a pool with his arm around Jujeena, who was in a hot-pink bikini top with a gigantic waxy flower behind her ear.

  Alys tossed the magazine into the bin. Nothing in life was fair. Nothing. Horrible people prospered and good, kind people did not, and there was no rhyme or reason to it. And for consolation, one attributed it to destiny.

  Alys woke up the next morning still feeling dismal. She went for her morning walk-jog in the pretty park not five minutes away, determined not to let ‘Social Blights’ ruin her day. She returned hot and sweaty. She bathed and changed into leggings and a T-shirt saying NOT YOUR AVERAGE BAJI. Then she proceeded to the dining room, where a late brunch was being enjoyed by all.

  ‘As-salaam-alaikum,’ Alys greeted everyone. Taking a seat opposite Sherry, she poured herself a mug of instant coffee and cracked a boiled egg against her plate. She grabbed the newspaper no one had opened yet and flipped through the usual news of honour killings, dowry burnings, rapes, blasphemy accusations, sectarian violence, corruption scandals, tax evasions, and the never-ending promises by vote-grubbing politicians to fix the country.

  Alys was on her second coffee when the doorbell rang and, moments later, two men entered the dining room. Kaleen jumped up.

  ‘Aiye, aiye, welcome, welcome,’ Kaleen said, his voice shaking as he led Darsee and his friend to chairs at the head of the table. ‘An honour! An honour! Sherry, have the cook brew a fresh pot of chai and fry up another batch of your superb shami kebabs.’

  Darsee’s companion was a friend from India, Raghav Kumar. He and Darsee had been at university together in Atlanta for their undergraduate degrees. No, he was not a vegetarian, Raghav said, as the cook brought in the piping-hot kebabs. Yes, many Hindus ate beef. Yes, he would very much like a cup of chai, with three teaspoons of sugar and plenty of milk.

  Raghav was here on a twofold mission, one personal and the o
ther a lifelong dream of climbing Pakistan’s – nay, the world’s – impossible mountain, K2. Last year he’d made it quite far up Everest. There were congratulations all around. Mansoor and Manzoor began to ask him questions about mountaineering, which was his hobby, and film editing, which was his job. Yes, he’d met quite a few superstars. No, he wasn’t married. Yes, he was in a relationship.

  ‘There’s a lovely park just around the corner from here,’ Alys said, ‘with a really nice jogging track but also an indoor climbing wall if you’re interested.’

  ‘Interested. Thank you.’

  ‘And,’ Alys added, ‘just in case it’s as big an issue for you as it might be for some people, a warning: it’s not some fancy gym or exclusive climbing club but part of a public park.’

  ‘Exclusivity,’ Raghav said, ‘is a silly problem for silly people, for the most part.’

  Alys laughed. ‘Every segment of society here prides itself on being exclusive in some way.’

  ‘Such pride is a worldwide epidemic,’ Raghav said.

  Darsee finally spoke. ‘How long are you here for, Alys?’

  ‘A few weeks,’ she said a little curtly. ‘When did you come to Islamabad?’

  ‘Last night,’ Darsee said. ‘We drove in from Lahore. Annie mentioned that you were all here …’

  ‘Did you happen to see my sister Jena in Lahore?’ Alys asked. ‘She’s been there these past few months.’

  Darsee cleared his throat. ‘No. Have you read the novel I gave you yet?’

  ‘No. How was your time in the Maldives?’ Alys asked.

  ‘The usual.’

  ‘And what is the usual, for those of us not privy to your usual or to the Maldives’ usual?’

  ‘Hot and too commercial.’

  ‘Your party was featured in Social Lights. You seemed not too bothered by the heat and commerce.’

  Darsee scowled. ‘Hammy and Sammy had no right to release my sister’s or my photos for public consumption.’

  ‘Some people,’ Alys said, ‘think it a great badge of social currency to be featured in social pages. I believe the term used is “‘making it”.’

  ‘Good for some people,’ Darsee said. ‘I find it crass. We’re private people, not celebrities.’

  Alys groaned. ‘Please don’t tell me you’re one of those people who both love the exposure and complain about it.’

  Raghav raised his cup of chai to Alys. ‘If nothing else, Social Lights has catapulted Val into the role of even-more-eligible bachelor.’

  ‘Every mother, father, and daughter,’ said Alys, ‘has him in their sights now. There is no escape, thanks to his holiday in Maldives, drinking piña coladas at pools with bars.’

  Darsee rose abruptly. ‘Let’s go, Raghav. Thank you, Dr Kaleen. Good to meet your family, Mrs Kaleen. We actually came to invite you all to dinner tonight at Beena Aunty’s, but I understand you must be unavailable at such a short notice, so—’

  ‘Not at all. Not at all,’ Kaleen said. ‘For your ’unty I would break an engagement with the Queen of England. We’ll be there.’

  After Darsee and Raghav drove away in a gleaming Pajero, Kaleen dropped into a chair with a self-satisfied look.

  ‘That man, Valentine Darsee, has never thought it made sense to stop by my house, let alone exchange a word with me, in all this time. Yet here he was, come himself, drinking my chai, eating my kebabs. Clearly my importance for Annie is on the rise.’

  After Kaleen left for work, Sherry dragged Alys to the back of the garden in order to feed the goat and gather eggs. She duly informed Alys that her husband must be forgiven his flights of fancy for, clearly, dear Valentine Darsee had come for Alys.

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ Alys said, flushing.

  ‘He’s aching to discuss the novel he gave you. Aching!’

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘Such an ache.’ Sherry lifted a squawking chicken and swayed it obscenely. ‘Such a deep ache.’

  ‘Too deep!’ Alys said, laughing. ‘I thought you’d become all goody-goody once you married, and your sexual innuendos would end, but how nice that you’ve added flapping gestures to your repertoire. I don’t know what Darsee’s motive was for coming here. Last I saw him was at Fazool and Moolee’s New Year’s party, where we quarelled and he stormed out.’

  ‘And now he’s stormed back in,’ Sherry said, and, singing ‘Kabootar Ja Ja Ja, pigeon fly, fly, fly,’ she impishly thrust the protesting chicken at a shrieking Alys before letting it loose.

  The guests duly arrived at Versailles of Pakistan at the designated time and were once again ushered into the drawing room. Raghav and Annie were delighted to see them. Darsee was politely formal. Beena dey Bagh was, it seemed, a little put out. She was grumbling about her masseuse not showing up this morning for her daily rise-and-shine massage. However, it soon became evident to Alys that, when Darsee was present, Beena dey Bagh wanted him all to herself and had patience for no one else. Annie looked much healthier this evening. Her cheeks were flushed and her general mien vibrant, and Alys concluded it was on account of Darsee’s presence. Although, since they’d arrived and been seated, Alys hadn’t seen Darsee pay Annie any attention. If she ever got engaged, Alys thought, and her fiancé ignored her, she wouldn’t put up with it.

  ‘I loved Flannery O’Connor’s short story “Good Country People”,’ Annie was saying. ‘Alys, the one you recommended.’

  The wretched mother, the gossiping neighbour, the angry daughter, the dreadful Bible salesman, the wooden leg. Annie could easily see this story set in Pakistan, and that made Flannery O’Connor an honorary Pakistani.

  Alys laughed. ‘O’Connor, Austen, Alcott, Wharton. Characters’ emotions and situations are universally applicable across cultures, whether you’re wearing an empire dress, shalwar kurta, or kimono.’

  She recalled that Darsee had also said as much at the clinic and glanced at him at the bar, fixing a Scotch for himself.

  ‘I’m so glad you recommended her,’ Annie said. ‘Sherry, have you read it?’

  ‘I’ve translated it into Urdu for a collection I’m putting together.’

  ‘How divine,’ Annie said.

  Sherry smiled. ‘I’ve always wanted to work on such projects but I’ve never had the time before, and now I have all the time in the world.’

  ‘Time for?’ Raghav joined them with his freshened vodka. ‘You all look like you’ve been anointed. Tell, tell.’

  Alys told him about Sherry’s undertaking and Annie’s new love and that he should read it.

  ‘It’s not too long, is it?’ Raghav said. ‘I’m more of a haiku person, short and punchy.’

  Alys shook her head. ‘You sound like a student asking how many pages an essay must be. You’ll survive reading a short story. Imagine you’re climbing a mental mountain.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ Raghav said, giving her a mock salute. ‘Anything else, ma’am?’

  Alys laughed. She was having a glorious time with Sherry, Raghav, and even Annie. Now if only Darsee would stop gazing at them from across the room as if they were worms. There was that look again, this time aimed at her.

  ‘Instead of plotting our demise,’ Alys called out, ‘you may join us.’

  ‘I would,’ Darsee said, ‘but your figures look best from here.’

  ‘I’m sure they do.’ Raghav performed a pirouette. ‘Especially mine.’

  ‘Yes,’ Darsee said, ‘most especially yours.’

  ‘Oh, look,’ Alys said, ‘it has a sense of humour when it wants.’

  ‘It certainly does,’ Raghav said. They all laughed.

  Beena dey Bagh, who’d been informing Kaleen and the rather baffled Mr and Mrs Looclus of the benefits of sashimi compared to sushi – kachi machi, raw fish, the Loocluses would exclaim for months – insisted that they share the joke. They did. Beena was not amused.

  ‘Would any of you like to be referred to as “it”?’ she asked.

  ‘Only,’ Alys said, much to Kaleen’s consternation, ‘if I was
being referred to as the “It” Girl.’

  Beena clenched her fists. She would have forbidden them their laughter, except she was thrilled to see Annie enjoying herself. However, Beena was not happy with Alys. She clearly had no respect for Beena or her esteemed family. Perhaps time to seriously look into the parental complaints against her. Swearing. Promoting premarital sex. Her claims of marriage’s being legal prostitution. Or some such nonsense, which Beena had so far ignored, at Mrs Naheed’s behest. Not that such views and impropriety were a surprising trait coming from a woman like Alysba Binat. Beena had heard all about Alysba’s mother’s family background. Khandan was khandan, after all, and sooner or later your pedigree showed. With the satisfying thought that no one could ultimately hide where they came from, Beena pressed the buzzer to the kitchen and ordered that the khow suey dinner be served.

  Annie’s entertainment being paramount to Beena dey Bagh, she saw no reason not to invite the Loocluses and, to her disgust, Alys – for there was no way to exclude her – night after night for dinner. Besides, Darsee and Raghav were also keen to have company over.

  For his part, Kaleen felt he would explode at this nightly honour. Mareea, Mansoor, and Manzoor were thrilled to dress up and eat from such a splendid table in such luxurious surroundings and happiest when Kaleen’s children joined too. Bobia and Haji Looclus compared, non-stop, the menus from the dinners as well as the sitting areas into which they’d been led. They felt that so much gracious chit-chat with Beena dey Bagh must surely elevate their own social standing and that this change in their status must be reflected once they returned to Dilipabad. Perhaps a photo with Beena dey Bagh, which they would display prominently? And if a guest did not know who she was, well, then, that would prove the guest’s insignificance.