Unmarriageable(101)

‘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.’