Unmarriageable

by Soniah Kamal

  ‘Engaged to Valentine?’

  ‘It is a well-known fact that you Binat sisters are well versed in the art of bad magic and love spells. First you tried to grab Valentine’s friend Raghav—’

  ‘Raghav is gay,’ Alys said. ‘You know that.’

  ‘Nothing a nice girl can’t fix, except you are not a nice girl.’

  ‘You can’t “fix” gay. It’s a biological—’

  ‘Chup. Silence. I was watching you at Versailles flirting with Raghav, and when you couldn’t seduce him, you turned your attentions to my nephew. Girls of your class know exactly how to use their ways and wiles to grab men.’

  ‘Girls of my class!’ Alys squinted. ‘I am happy to burst your bubble, but “grab-it” transcends all classes. Class is immaterial to—’

  ‘Chup. Silence,’ Beena dey Bagh said again. ‘Don’t you dare lecture me on class. Have you lost all sense of your place in the world?’

  ‘What place would that be?’

  ‘A place where you should not be able to open your mouth in front of me, let alone dream of being engaged to a dey Bagh. Who are you? Nothing and no one.’

  ‘I’m a Binat,’ Alys said, ‘from my father’s side of the family, and in your worldview that is not nothing or no one.’

  ‘Yes, you’re a Binat. Albeit a poor lowly Binat, pseudo-gentry,’ Beena dey Bagh sneered. ‘But your mother’s family. Your grandmother. Let me be absolutely crass about it: your maternal grandmother was a prostitute.’

  ‘There is no proof.’

  ‘Your sister Lady’s actions have proved this genetic link beyond any doubt.’

  ‘You know what?’ Alys said. ‘Maybe my grandmother was indeed a prostitute. Maybe she was the biggest, baddest, busiest prostitute in all of history. Hear me: I’m very proud of my prostitute grandmother. She was a working woman putting food on the table and a roof over heads, unlike women such as yourself who are born into an inheritance or luck out into marrying one.’

  ‘You have the audacity to compare me to a prostitute!’

  ‘I’m sorry you cannot celebrate all women and must denigrate some in order to feel good about where you come from. As a fellow educator, I find your sense of entitlement appalling, especially given that it stems from the hubris of inherited wealth and not one you’ve earned, not that self-made riches would make entitlement any more acceptable.’

  Beena dey Bagh had never in her life been spoken to this way.

  ‘You dark-complexioned snake of girl,’ she said. ‘You’re no girl. You’re a woman. A baigaireth aurat, a shameless woman at that! You are my employee! A teacher in a backwater town! You slut! Who has allowed you the temerity to call yourself an educator? To put yourself on the same rung as me? Do you know who I am? I am Beena dey Bagh! I have founded an entire school system in Pakistan, English-medium no less. You badtameez, belligerent, bitch of a woman. If my nephew insists on marrying you, I will disown him. I will never speak to him again. He will rue the day.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ Alys said.

  ‘So you are engaged?’

  ‘I’m not telling you.’

  ‘You are not engaged. Otherwise, a woman from a whore background would readily admit to grabbing respectability. If he asks you, promise me you will refuse him.’

  ‘Let me tell you what I will promise,’ Alys said. ‘I promise that I’m only going to do what is best for me and not what is best for you or anyone else.’

  ‘Chup. Silence. You classless hussy.’

  ‘You chup. You silence,’ Alys said, and she walked out of the office and into Mrs Naheed and Bashir and half the school gathered in the veranda.

  ‘Hussy, how dare you turn your back on me?’ Beena dey Bagh roared as she followed Alys. ‘How dare you walk away from me? Do you know who I am? I am Beena dey Bagh, descendant of royal gardeners and a luminary of this land.’

  Alys walked even faster while Mrs Naheed’s voice beseeched Beena dey Bagh to calm down and return to the office and she sent Bashir to futafut – instantly – bring chai.

  For the rest of the school day, Alys could think of nothing but Beena dey Bagh’s visit. Had Jena and Bungles’s engagement scared Beena dey Bagh into believing she’d ‘grabbed’ Darsee? Had Beena dey Bagh any idea what her showing up at school would do to the rumour mill?

  After Beena dey Bagh left Mrs Naheed’s office, Alys was called back in.

  ‘Oh dear,’ Naheed said. ‘This is a right muddle. Beena dey Bagh wants you fired, but I reminded her that, as per franchise contracts, firing a teacher is largely my decision, and frankly, Alys, I have no desire to. You’re a good teacher despite everything and, more important, thanks to you, students are able to bring their English accents up to standard. But now that I have chosen sides and Beena’s wrath, please tell me it is true. Are you to be Mrs Valentine Darsee?’

  When the bell rang for home time, Alys gladly settled into the school van and shut her eyes, willing herself to relax. All day long she’d been bombarded by concerned students gawking at her (Rose-Nama was agape) and teachers asking her if she was okay, if there was any truth to the rumour. When the van stopped in front of the graveyard, she was dismayed to see a Pajero standing outside Binat House. Had Beena dey Bagh come to terrorise her parents?

  Mr and Mrs Binat were in the foyer, anxiously awaiting her.

  ‘Alys,’ Mr Binat said, ‘what is going on?’

  ‘It’s Dracula,’ Mrs Binat said. ‘He said he’d wait for you in the garden.’

  Alys went straight to the garden. Darsee was by a pretty little wilderness with a tangle of fruit trees – orange, custard apple, tamarind – Alys’s favourite area, not that he knew it.

  ‘Hello, Alys,’ Darsee said. ‘Your mother called me Dracula.’

  ‘Oh.’ Alys looked sheepish. ‘My entire family calls you Dracula. It’s a nickname from way back.’

  ‘I like it. Dracula.’

  ‘Good,’ Alys said. ‘They’ll be so pleased to hear. Listen—’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve been meaning to thank you,’ Alys said. ‘I must thank you.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘You know for what. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been for you to be in the same room with that man, let alone negotiate terms with him.’

  ‘I did it for you.’ Darsee cleared his throat. ‘I kept hearing you say how your sister’s action had ruined the rest of you. I kept wondering what would have happened had I not had the resources to take my sister to Europe for a secret abortion. Also, writing that letter to you woke me up to several things. You see, Alys, you were right, I am a pompous ass’ – Darsee smiled awkwardly – ‘but I’m a pompous ass with a heart of gold. Since birth I’ve been catered to by my parents, my aunts, by the help, everyone. When everyone pampers you, it takes superhuman effort to remain level-headed, and yet how much I abhor sycophancy, which is status elevation by association. What can I do for someone? How can my friendship benefit them? Could I put in a good word even though it’s undeserved? Zero unaffectedness. Zero authenticity. Zero sincerity. Flattery will get you nowhere with me, but at first I thought you were playing the “I’m not interested” grab-it tactic. But your disinterest couldn’t have been more genuine. Never in my life had I thought anyone would refuse to marry me. Never had I imagined that what I was bringing to the table would not outweigh my flaws. Time had turned me into that person, but that is not who I want to be. Sometimes we lose sight of ourselves, but you see me, Alys, and you force me to see myself.’

  ‘You force me to see myself too,’ Alys said. ‘When I think of the things I said about you and your loyalty, I’m so mortified. You’re the most loyal person I know. You’re always courteous to Sherry – the way you called out Hammy for belittling her accent. You gave me a book that meant so much to you, and then you genuinely wanted to hear my views on it. You were so hospitable to my aunt and uncle. Juju’s music teacher called you humble. All these things may have been enough for me to revise my opinion of you, but the w
ay you dealt with your sister’s predicament, the way you expressed sorrow for her situation without blaming or castigating her for it, the way you acknowledged your mother’s sexuality without judging her harshly, as too many other sons would have, I came to admire you even more.’

  Darsee pulled Alys close as they walked deeper into the fruit grove.

  ‘The things I said,’ he said, ‘about your family. Right or wrong, I shouldn’t have said them, or at least not like that. And how ashamed I’ve been over suggesting you not meet them as much as you might want.’

  ‘You should be ashamed,’ Alys said, smiling sweetly, ‘but I accept your apology.’

  ‘So very kind of you,’ Darsee said playfully.

  ‘You didn’t give me any signal at Jena and Bungles’s engagement that you still had feelings for me.’

  ‘You didn’t give me any signal,’ Darsee said. ‘The last I talked to you in Lahore in Nona’s living room, you brought up Laila from Sunlight and how she was in love with a poor man. I imagined you were trying to tell me that you loved some poor man. Clearly I am not poor.’

  ‘Clearly you are not poor.’ Alys laughed. ‘A nice bonus for me. I’m joking.’

  ‘I have something for you,’ Darsee said. ‘It was my mother’s.’

  Darsee slipped a small sapphire ring onto Alys’s finger. It was perfect. It was full of heart.

  ‘I love you,’ Darsee said shyly. ‘I’m madly in like with you.’

  ‘I love you and I’m madly in like with you too,’ Alys said, equally shy. ‘When did you know you liked me?’

  ‘From the very first look, and even more when you spoke.’

  Alys laughed. ‘I overheard you telling Bungles I was unattractive and not smart.’

  Darsee gave a guilty smile. ‘I was merely trying to get him to leave me alone and stop setting me up with anyone. I had no intentions of falling in love, and I resisted you as long as I could.’

  ‘Your Beena Aunty will be in hysterics,’ Alys said.

  ‘She’s the reason I’m here,’ Darsee said. ‘She called me. She said she’d had words with you but, rude girl that you are, you refused to refuse marrying me if I asked you. I took that as my sign, and here I am.’

  Alys did not suppress her smile. ‘But why would she think we’re engaged?’

  Darsee reddened. ‘I may have inadvertently praised you one too many times.’

  ‘I see. Well, how very delighted Beena Aunty will be when she discovers she’s played Cupid in our love story.’

  ‘She’ll be thrilled.’ Darsee grinned.

  ‘My Aunty Nona too,’ Alys said, ‘has, unbeknownst to her, played a role in our love story, as has Juju. If Aunty Nona didn’t make cakes and Juju hadn’t ordered a cake, I would never have turned up at your house – although, had I known it was for your house, I would never have even sat in the car, let alone delivered it.’

  ‘I know,’ Darsee said. ‘I’m so glad you didn’t know it was my house and that you came, because, clearly, ignorance made all the difference. Although, in any case, I would have sought you out.’

  ‘It should have occurred to me that since your aunt’s house is Versailles of Pakistan, then yours could very well be Buckingham Palace. What was your other aunt’s house named, the White House?’

  ‘Bingo.’ Darsee blushed. He took hold of Alys’s hands and he kissed them. ‘You win a lifetime’s supply of anything you want.’

  ‘I have everything,’ Alys said. She loved her hands in Darsee’s grip. She thought back to the all-too-brief moment when their fingers had connected, and now she finally allowed herself to fall into the full luxury of a touch she’d dreamt about but had thought impossible. ‘I don’t think my life could be any more perfect than it is at this moment.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  ‘Dracula proposed and you accepted?’ Mr Binat said. ‘But you detest him.’

  ‘Over time, I’ve come to like Dracula very much.’

  ‘Alysba, my princess.’ Mr Binat peered at her. ‘I don’t have to say this to you, but I will. If you are feeling forced to accept this offer because of his assets, which I agree are hard to ignore, please do not. You of all my daughters will not thrive on money and prestige alone.’

  ‘Will you feel better if I tell you I respect him?’

  ‘Respect Dracula!’

  ‘We must stop calling him Dracula.’ Alys laughed. ‘I have discovered that he has the humility to admit to a mistake and the ability to change.’

  ‘Humility! That man?’

  ‘Yes,’ Alys said. ‘That man.’

  The family was called in. Mr Binat told them all to sit down. Alys had an announcement.

  ‘I’m getting married,’ Alys said.

  ‘What!’ Mrs Binat yelped.

  ‘To Valentine Darsee.’

  Mrs Binat nearly fainted, and Jena rushed to the kitchen to get her water. She too was shocked. Everyone was shocked. Everyone said, ‘To Dracula! But! How!’

  ‘When,’ Jena demanded to know, ‘did you first decide you even liked him enough to marry him?’

  ‘Easy,’ Alys said. ‘When Aunty Nona told me how much he paid for the original artwork in his house. I thought, if he can pay that much to decorate his walls, imagine how much he’ll spend to decorate his wife.’

  ‘Be serious, Alys,’ Jena said. ‘Marriage is not some joking matter. He disgusts you.’

  ‘You loathe him,’ Qitty said.

  ‘Despise him,’ Mari said.

  ‘Nafreth si,’ Hillima said. ‘You hate him.’

  ‘We all hate him,’ Mrs Binat said feebly.

  It was time, Alys decided, to tell her family that their Dracula was responsible for Wickaam marrying Lady. Mr Binat could not have been more grateful. Long hours he’d spent contemplating how he was going to repay Nisar and Nona. He would offer to repay Darsee, of course, but Darsee, smitten by love for Alys and filthy rich, would, thankfully, be sure to decline repayment.

  ‘Princess Alysba,’ Mr Binat said. ‘Get ready for people to detest you. People can tolerate a woman being intelligent or pretty, and you are both. To be intelligent, pretty, and rich is an open invitation to enviable envy.’

  Mrs Binat told Mr Binat to stop cracking silly jokes at such a momentous time. Alys was not intelligent. Intelligent girls grew their hair long and did not sit in the sun. Clearly, Darsee lacked intelligence too, but his stupidity was their gain. Begum Valentine Darsee! Mrs Valentine Darsee! Hai! Mrs Binat kissed Alys on the forehead and proclaimed she’d always known in her mother’s heart that God would not abandon her strange naive frump of a daughter and that Alys would be able to grab it, and, look, she’d grabbed a prize.

  ‘I told you to stay away from him,’ Mrs Binat said, beaming. ‘Luckily, you never listen to me.’

  Alys listened with amusement, her mother recasting Darsee from ugly duckling to stellar swan and her sisters turning him from Dracula to Darsee Bhai.

  The phone rang. Hillima left to answer. She returned and handed the cordless to Mr Binat. ‘Fart Sahib da foon si. It’s Fart Sahib’s phone call.’

  Mr Binat literally took a step back as Farhat Kaleen blared an earful of congratulations. Was it true? Beena dey Bagh was livid. He’d called to warn his beloved family – Mr Binat mouthed to his family, ‘We are beloved family today’ – warn his beloved family that her wrath would be terrible and that perhaps Alys should reconsider, but, was it true, was she to be Mrs Valentine Darsee? Was Alys there? Sherry wanted to speak to her.

  Mr Binat handed Alys the phone.

  ‘Alys!’ Sherry shrieked. ‘Is it true?’

  Alys took a deep breath. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I told you,’ Sherry said. ‘I told you he was making mammoth you-you eyes at you. I also told you that you needed to grab him, and you did.’

  ‘Yes,’ Alys said. ‘Grabbing him has been my life’s sole purpose this past year, as per your and Mummy’s instructions.’

  But Alys’s heart was doing funny things at the love in Sherry’s v
oice. Their friendship had been in trouble for a moment, but now it was back on course. Sherry said she was leaving for Dilipabad – these were not celebrations she was planning to forgo. Kaleen could tend to Beena dey Bagh if he wanted, but tonight she and Alys had a date at the graveyard, where they would share a celebratory smoke.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  As per Mrs Binat’s fantasy, it was decided that Alys and Darsee and Jena and Bungles would have double mehndi and nikah ceremonies at the Dilipabad Gymkhana, while their walima ceremonies would take place separately in Lahore. Both the grooms-to-be were adamant that they were going to foot the bill for everything, and Jena and Alys had, after much deliberation, decided, Why not? It was going to be their money anyway once they married. They’d suggested a preposterous amount of haq mehr, but both men could afford it and they happily paid up. Also, the sisters insisted on the right of divorce being added to their marriage certificates, despite Mrs Binat’s protest that such a caveat was an ill omen.

  ‘Life continues beyond happily ever after,’ Alys said. ‘Better safe than sorry.’

  People in the know were convinced that the eldest Binat girls practised magic spells, for not only had the two grabbed eligible bachelors younger than themselves, but Bungles and Darsee also obeyed their every command. It was widely whispered that Alys did not want children; the scandalised concluded that Darsee’s acceptance of this proved that she was a highly accomplished witch. Beena dey Bagh was very unhappy at what was transpiring, but after Annie reminded her that Jeorgeullah was a catastrophe and to please not alienate Valentine, she accepted that he was marrying Alys, and she managed to find solace in the fact that a stellar educator was entering the family. Sherry was, of course, overjoyed, and Farhat Kaleen said no one could be happier than he and that no one could have prayed harder than he had for the Binat sisters to prosper. Ganju jee was ecstatic: the Binats were going from fake to real jewellery. The only person peeved was uber-designer Qazi of QaziKreations, because Alys and Jena were not ordering their bridal outfits from him. Instead, they were going to have their mother design them, because Mrs Binat had decided to give fashion designing a try: Pinkie Heirlooms, with an ecstatic tailor Shawkat at the helm. Still, Qazi was dressing their sisters, so there was yet a holiday or two for him in that.