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Unmarriageable

Page 30

by Soniah Kamal


  Lady basked and chattered non-stop. Wickaam smiled his usual smile. Both behaved as if nothing was out of place. Perhaps, Alys remarked to Jena, they believed it. Lady was awfully sorry to hear that the Dilipabad Gymkhana had no dates for a reception and neither did Lotus, Burger Palace, or Pizza Palace, and not even High Chai. But it was understandable because of such short notice. She wouldn’t have minded a big dinner thrown for them at the house, but next time.

  This time she was going to visit each and every neighbour, school friend, and acquaintance, with Wick in tow. First she’d stop by and show off Wick to Mareea Looclus. That would put an end to fish-face Mareea’s showing off about Sherry and Fart Bhai. Should she take Wick to the British School? Display him to former classmates and to Mrs Naheed?

  ‘No!’ said Alys and Jena, and Lady was too giddy to argue.

  Thankfully, Lady stayed true to her plans, and she and Wickaam were hardly ever home. Mrs Binat, the proud mother, accompanied them on their visits, her arms linked between her beloved daughter and her dashing son-in-law. Dilipabad wasn’t quite sure what to think. On the one hand, Lady had run away. On the other hand, she was home with her lawfully wedded husband. To the chagrin of gossipmongers, the vilest of the gossip was dying down.

  On their last evening, Mr and Mrs Wickaam insisted on dining at home, and Mrs Binat made sure Lady and Wickaam’s favourite dishes were prepared.

  ‘I wish you would settle down in Dilipabad,’ Mrs Binat said, thoroughly upset that they were leaving the next day.

  ‘That would be a death sentence, Mummy,’ Lady said. She and Wick wanted to travel. She’d been dying to go to Disneyland, and now they would go there for their honeymoon. And they planned to settle in Karachi when they came back to Pakistan. Wick had of late come into some money – Mr Binat spluttered on his rice – and he wanted to invest in some business or other, maybe a bowling alley or a highly exclusive restaurant. Law was so blah, naa.

  Wickaam looked up from his koftas. ‘Hated law. Long, boring, tedious.’

  ‘What is long, boring, tedious?’ Alys said, unable to resist. ‘Walking through a university campus in New York?’

  Wickaam gave her a slow, grudging smile. Alys returned it with a nod, and turned.

  After dinner, which Mr Binat gulped down as fast as he could, he went to bed, completely unable to stomach being in the same room as these two equally bagaireth, shameless, newly-weds. Neither one had shown one iota of embarrassment, and Lady especially was acting as if hers was a love story to equal Romeo-Juliet and Layla-Majnun and Heer-Ranjha, except, of course, Lady and Wickaam were not star-crossed lovers who died. Mr Binat expected no heartfelt apologies from Lady to them, but how he wished she had apologised properly to Nona for making her miss the Indus Civilization Award ceremony. Instead, the shameless girl told Nona that no doubt there was a reason God had not wanted her to attend and therefore found a way to prevent her from going.

  Alys watched her father hurry out of the dining room. She very much wanted to follow him, except that all the sisters had promised Lady that, since it was her last night with them for who knew how long, they would stay up like old times and snack on pine nuts and chat. Thankfully, Wickaam declared he was tired and went to bed.

  The Binat sisters and mother and Hillima traipsed into the living room and settled down. Lady wanted to know all the gossip at school.

  ‘Mashallah, you were the gossip for a long while,’ Mari said dourly. ‘And with this visit you’re the gossip again. You are notorious.’

  Lady clapped her hands. Better notoriety than invisibility. Who’d said what? And who was dying of jealousy that she’d married a man who looked like a film star? In fact, Wick might star in a film. A friend of his was making a film and he’d asked Wick to be the hero, and Wick was seriously considering it.

  ‘I thought “Wick”,’ Alys said, ‘was planning to write an earth-shattering novel.’

  ‘Oh, he will,’ Lady said. ‘He’s just looking for the right person to write it for him.’

  Alys shook her head at Jena.

  ‘I see you, Alys,’ Lady said. ‘You can make faces all you want, but I promise you, one day Wick and I are going to be rich-and-famous celebrities and socialites who appear in Social Lights all the time, and then you’ll regret not believing in us.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Alys said. ‘For your sake.’

  ‘And I’m going to say I told you so,’ Lady said as she flipped through an issue of Mode, pausing at the pages where Qitty had turned the corners on obese models she thought resembled her. ‘I have so many people I’m dying to say I told you so to. And the number-one person is that yuck-thoo Dracula.’

  At Darsee’s mention, Alys felt her stomach drop. She hated that it did.

  ‘Don’t mention that man’s name on this perfect evening,’ Mrs Binat said. She was dozing on the sofa, enjoying the voices of all her daughters drifting over her: if there was a heaven on earth, then being surrounded by one’s grown children was it.

  ‘I swear,’ Lady said, ‘Dracula nearly ruined my marriage. He spent the whole time standing on top of Wick’s head as if Wick was planning to flee. If he wasn’t Wick’s first cousin, I swear I’d forbid Wick from seeing him ever again. I certainly don’t want to see him again.’

  ‘Darsee was at your nikah?’ Alys sat up.

  ‘Oh Crapistan!’ Lady said. ‘I promised Wick and Dracula I wouldn’t tell. All of us promised Dracula we’d keep our mouths shut.’

  ‘All? Who “all”?’ Alys said.

  ‘Me, Uncle Nisar, Aunty Nona. It was a stupid promise.’

  ‘What was Darsee doing there?’ Alys glanced at an equally perplexed Jena.

  Lady shrugged. ‘He was one of the witnesses. He frowned the whole time. Bhalla – imagine. Frowning at someone’s nuptials. Such an ill omen. I hope his nose turns into a popcorn, just like Fart Bhai’s. Qitty told me about the letter Fart Bhai sent, in which he said I should die of shame. That purity pervert married the best friend of the woman who rejected him – he should be the shameful one. What have I got to be ashamed of? Falling in love? Having a love marriage? Lo jee! I swear, all these men are so pompous, except Wick. He’s a real catch. So down to earth. When I settle in Karachi, all of you visit me and I’ll help you grab husbands. It’ll be so much fun.’

  ‘Spare us,’ Alys said as she tried to make sense of Lady’s revelation.

  ‘I’d rather die a virgin,’ Mari said, ‘than resort to your tactics.’

  ‘Suit yourselves, then,’ Lady said, yawning. ‘But, seriously, my stupid sisters, think about the fact that I’m the only one married out of us. And on that note, I’m going to bed and to my husband, who is always Mr Lonely Pants for me. Signing off for the night is your baby sister, Lady Binat, now also starring as Mrs Lady Jeorgeullah Wickaam.’

  The next morning, Wickaam and Lady drove away from Binat House, but not before Alys pulled Lady aside once more to confirm that Darsee had been at her marriage ceremony, after which she wasted no time calling Nona. Nona was surprised that Alys did not already know. She’d thought Darsee was swearing secrecy because he wanted to tell her the sensitive news himself.

  ‘Sensitive news?’ Alys said.

  ‘Alys,’ Nona said, ‘Darsee is the one who paid Wickaam a hundred thousand dollars to marry Lady. Of course, we shielded Lady from Wickaam’s demand. Why break her heart? Darsee was at the marriage because he wanted to make sure Wickaam went through with it and didn’t run off with the money. I’m so glad we’ve cleared this up. I would hate to think that any of you thought Nisar and I bailed Lady out. I mean, we gladly would have if we had that type of money. But who does? Well, Darsee obviously does, but you know what I mean. I wonder why he hasn’t told you yet.’

  Alys hung up the phone. She headed towards the graveyard for some privacy. She paced the lanes between the graves. She walked by the grave of a Pakistani soldier who at the time of his death in World War II had been an Indian soldier; geography had converted his citizenship from one c
ountry during life to another after death. Darsee, with his romantic notions of being rootless, would have appreciated this observation.

  Throughout her walk, Alys thought back to the last time she and Darsee had been together, in Nona’s living room, about how they’d been talking about Sunlight until Jena’s call had come, then Darsee had left abruptly, and she’d been convinced he’d have nothing to do with them ever again. Yet he was the one who’d paid off Wickaam to marry Lady. It was in all likelihood, Alys told herself, because he’d felt guilty. By asking her to keep Wickaam’s sordid past a secret, he’d enabled Wickaam to manage yet another conquest, this time in the form of Lady. Perhaps, Alys also thought, Darsee believed that by marrying Wickaam off he would curb his cousin’s carnal appetite once and for all.

  The truth was, Alys had no idea why exactly Darsee had decided to spend a fortune on the cousin he despised. She would like to ask him, of course, but who knew if she’d ever see him again? Their paths were unlikely to cross; they had no reason to cross.

  When Alys returned home, Binat House was in an uproar.

  ‘You won’t believe it, Alys!’ Qitty said. ‘He just drove up and rang the doorbell and asked for her as if it was the most natural thing in the world. I said, “Yes, she’s home, in the living room,” and he went straight in and then he took her straight out and it’s been over an hour since they left. But where have you been?’

  ‘Who came in and who took who out?’ Alys hurried to the living room, where both her mother and Mari were on prayer mats. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Jena happened!’ Mari looked up from the Quran she was frantically reading on Jena’s behalf. ‘Bungles came and took Jena out. Mummy and I are praying for them.’

  ‘We are praying,’ Mrs Binat said, ‘that this time the silly man gets it right.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ Alys said, and she rushed to find her father.

  Mr Binat was in the garden, transferring sprouting seeds from a pot into a flower bed. He was most amused at this turn of events but also had fingers crossed that this time Jena’s heart would not be broken all over again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Jena had the shock of her life when Bungles came into the living room. She’d been sitting in the window seat, threading her moustache. Mari was holding up a magnifying mirror for her. When Bungles walked in, Jena stared for a long second and then hid the threading thread behind her back. Was her moustache area red? Then she decided, to hell with embarrassment. If anyone should be embarrassed, it should be Mr Weak Will.

  In fact, when Bungles asked her if she would please go on a drive with him, she agreed just so that she could tell him he was a weak-willed person and shame on him. Jena got into the car and hardened herself against the way his hair flopped over his forehead and the way he was nervously pursing his lips. They’d hardly turned the corner when Bungles parked under the mango tree that had grown not by design but due to littering. He turned to her and said, ‘Jena, will you marry me?’

  ‘Are you here,’ Jena said, ‘because you’ve been given permission by your sisters and your friend?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Bungles said.

  Jena told him she knew that Hammy-Sammy and Darsee had previously been opposed to their match.

  ‘They were,’ Bungles said slowly, ‘but the truth is, I honestly didn’t know the difference between a crush and like and love. And when Hammy, Sammy, and Darsee kept telling me you were not interested, it was easier to accept that than to sort out my feelings. I’m so sorry to have hurt you. No, it wasn’t a matter of a weak will, not at all. No, I’m not unduly influenced by others. I swear I’m not. Jena, I truly did not trust my own feelings. Jaans was the only one who always said he knew what I felt was true love. But Jaans. You know. Who listens to Jaans?

  ‘But I didn’t stop thinking about you for a single moment, and I finally admitted to myself that these feelings I have for you are it for me. As for my sisters and Darsee, while I value their opinions, this is my decision. I want to marry you. I hope you want to marry me. They told me that they’d known you were in Lahore and that they hid it from me. I was furious with them. They’ve apologised, profusely, and I hope you won’t hold it against me that I’ve forgiven them. I hope you forgive them too, but if you can’t, I’ll understand.

  ‘I told my parents of my decision to propose to you, and they flew in on the first flight out of California so that, if you say yes, there are no further delays for them to visit your house with a formal proposal. They came in last night, and here I am today to ask you if you will please marry me.’

  Jena returned home carrying a box of cream rolls from High Chai. She told everyone to sweeten their mouths, and then she broke into an ugly cry.

  ‘I’m getting married to Bungles!’ Jena said. ‘Mummy, you were right all along. He did propose.’

  ‘I told you so.’ Mrs Binat chortled with joy. ‘I guaranteed he would propose, only none of you girls have any faith in me, not to mention your father prancing around insisting I eat my shoe.’

  Bungles’s family was due to visit the Binats the next day with a formal proposal in order to ask for Jena’s hand in marriage, as well as give her an engagement ring and set a wedding date. There was a great flurry of activity as residents of Binat House prepared for this event. In the morning, Mrs Binat sent Jena to Susan’s Beauty Parlour for a facial and to get her hair blow-dried. She was going to wear a simple pale-yellow cotton shalwar kameez, Jena had decided, and just lip gloss and her garnet earrings. This time she was getting dressed up for herself and not for anyone else.

  Mr Binat was dispatched to the mithai shop to order several kilos of motichoor ladoos, which would be distributed to the neighbourhood and sent to the gymkhana and taken to school by Jena; oh, they were going to send celebratory sweets into every home in Dilipabad, such that no one would ever forget, cost be damned.

  Bungles’s parents turned out to be lovely. His mother kept kissing Jena’s hands and telling her tales of Bungles’s childhood and how naughty he’d been. For the first time in her life, Mrs Binat did not have much to say, because she was so full of joy. She kept looking at the glorious diamond on Jena’s hand and thinking it was exactly as she’d predicted: big and sparkling.

  The Binglas had also given Jena a beautiful set of solid gold and diamond bracelets, as well as gifts and suit pieces to the rest of the Binats. Bungles’s father and Mr Binat got along well. They talked about politics and gardening and life in Dilipabad and life in California. Jena was very sweet to Hammy and Sammy. She was always sweet to everyone, but this time she was fully aware of her sisters-in-laws’ duplicitous, cunning and manipulative capabilities.

  Hammy and Sammy acted as if they’d always been madly in love with Jena and it was Bungles who’d been stalling. The fact was, they adored their baby brother, and if he wanted to ruin his life and marry ‘senior citizen’ Jena Binat despite their objections, then so be it. Such was their change of heart that they even declared D-bad a most charming and quaint town and High Chai hip and happening. Jaans behaved as best as he could and reminded everyone, every so often, that he’d predicted this coupling at first sight.

  Darsee had accompanied them too. Alys watched him offer enthusiastic congratulations when Bungles slid the ring onto Jena’s finger and Jena the engagement band the Binats had hurriedly procured for Bungles from a thrilled Ganju jee. Darsee discussed sports and politics with Mr Binat. He ignored Mrs Binat just as resolutely as she ignored him. He and Alys nodded hello to each other as if they were strangers. Alys wished she could thank him for paying Wickaam to marry Lady, but this crowded drawing room was neither the time nor the place.

  After her future in-laws left Dilipabad to return to Lahore, Jena kept bursting into blissful tears. She’d truly given up hope of reconciliation with Bungles, for she’d believed that, even if he did reappear in her life, there was nothing he could say that would win her over or excuse his previous display of a weak will. But he had won her over and Jena’s happiness
knew no bounds, for herself as well as the fact that she was giving her family so much pleasure.

  However, Jena supposed her favourite moment would be walking into the staff room the next morning with celebratory sweets and a ring on her finger. And it was. There was not a dry eye in the school or a moment of ill will; everyone loved Jena, and they hoped she would live happily ever after.

  Alys was still smiling over the loving reception Jena had received in the staff room when Bashir, the peon, knocked on the classroom door. She turned to him with a knowing glimmer in her eyes.

  ‘Let me guess,’ Alys said. ‘Mrs Naheed wants to see me.’

  ‘Immediately,’ Bashir said, looking very scared. ‘There is someone here to see you.’

  It was Beena dey Bagh. When she saw Alys, she ordered Naheed to leave the office. Naheed had never been kicked out of anywhere, let alone her own office, but she walked out wordlessly onto the veranda. When the door banged shut, Naheed and Bashir crouched together by the keyhole.

  ‘A pretty penny,’ Beena dey Bagh was saying, ‘your parents and relatives must have collected in order to buy my disastrous nephew Jeorgeullah for your sister, who, from all reports, is a girl of a disastrously loose character. As for this mess Bungles has got himself into by getting engaged to your sister Jena, well, he will face the consequences of such a rash decision. But that is not why I have come here.’

  ‘Why have you come?’ Alys stood in the confines of the head teacher’s office, matching, gaze for gaze, the towering Beena dey Bagh.

  ‘You dare speak to me, an elder, in such a tone?’

  ‘And your tone is justified because I’m younger?’

  ‘I don’t have time for your nonsense. I’m here to ask only one question, and the only answer I’d better hear is a no.’

  ‘What is your question?’ Alys said. ‘I have a class to return to.’

  ‘I’ll see how long you last in the teaching profession,’ Beena dey Bagh snarled. ‘My question to you, you rude, arrogant woman: are you engaged to Valentine?’

 

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