Unmarriageable(104)

One evening, as the Binats were discussing the wedding menu, the phone rang and Mrs Binat went to answer it. When she returned, she was pale and Hillima was leading her by the elbow and seating her on the sofa.

‘You won’t believe who was on the phone,’ Mrs Binat said.

‘You’re scaring me,’ said Mr Binat. ‘Who?’

‘Tinkle,’ Mrs Binat said. ‘Tinkle was congratulating us on JenaBungles and AlysDarsee. She said she’d always had full faith that the girls would do the Binat name proud. She said she was looking forward to their weddings. She said she wanted to host a big milad and dholki for each girl at’ – Pinkie’s voice trembled – ‘at the old house. She said: “We will invite the whole of Pakistan. We will show them that nothing and no one can divide the Binat clan.”’

‘No,’ Mr Binat said loudly. Mrs Binat, Jena, Alys, Mari, and Qitty jumped.

Mr Binat cleared his throat. ‘I did not tell you, but when I was desperately looking for money to pay Mr Jeorgeullah Wickaam to marry my daughter, I had no option left but to arrive at Goga and Tinkle’s door.’

Mrs Binat gasped. So did the girls.

‘It was not their meanness of spirit,’ Mr Binat said slowly, ‘that was displayed in those stale biscuits they served me, or that Tinkle did not even bother to appear, or that Goga took his time appearing. Rather, it was the smile that spread on my brother’s face when I told him why I was there. Goga said he’d heard that one of my daughters had run away. He said he did not have money to spare on marrying off wayward girls. “Bark,” he said, “you obviously don’t have the brains to make money, for men fall on their faces all the time and yet manage to get right back up. In business you are a known failure, but I did not expect you to be a failure of a father too.”

‘I wanted to tell him about my kind and generous Jena, my fearless Alys, my artist Qitty, who holds her head up high no matter what anyone says to her, and my Mari, who just wants everyone to go to heaven. Even my silly, selfish Lady, who doesn’t know what is good for her and just wants to have a good time all the time. But I didn’t tell him about any one of my daughters. He doesn’t deserve to know a single thing about my precious girls.

‘As I was leaving that house, Pinkie, I realised that I’d spent this past decade there, if not physically, then in my heart by missing it and longing for it. But there was nothing there. It should have ceased to be home the minute we arrived in Dilipabad and you began to scrub clean this house. I should have rolled up my sleeves and joined you. They say blood is thicker than water. I say to hell with that. If blood mistreats you, better water. And if friends prove false, no matter, find better or be alone and be your own best friend.’

‘But, Barkat,’ Pinkie said carefully, ‘you have always dreamt of patching up with your brother. I know it.’

‘Goga is my brother biologically and Tinkle my cousin biologically, but in no other way have they earned those relationships. And the time for chances is over.’ Mr Binat raised his hand. ‘I’m not retaliating, Pinkie. It is not a matter of retaliation. It is a matter of principle. They’ve treated us shabbily, as if we were enemies and not blood. I realised that you are correct: our failure is their success. Since they broke the blood bond, I have no interest reviving it. We will not be inviting them to Jena’s or Alys’s wedding. We will not be holding any functions in their home. They are not welcome in my home or in my heart. My only regret is that I was unable to develop a relationship with my nephews and nieces or give my own children the gift of close cousins. But so be it. Not my fault. Not my problem.

‘Pinkie, my love, I apologise to you for all the times I ignored your complaints about them, told you to get over their insults, to tolerate it, to compromise, to let it go. It was callous of me. It is not how a spouse should treat a spouse. Not how I, your husband, should have treated you, my wife, when I’d vowed to love and protect you. Forgive me.’

Khushboo ‘Pinkie’ Binat instantly forgave her husband everything, for this was every Pakistani wife’s dream come true, that her husband should sincerely apologise on behalf of his family.

‘And Jena, Alys, the rest of you,’ Mr Binat said, ‘if your husband ever mistreats you, know that you have parents who support you and a home to return to here in Dilipabad, to rest and recover before you go back out into the world.’





WHAT WILL PEOPLE SAY




Log Kya Kahenge



MRS NAHEED: You know Alys and Jena were British School of Dilipabad teachers. In fact, I was the one who introduced Alys Binat to Valentine Darsee, at the NadirFiede wedding. So sad – Nadir’s and Fiede’s divorce. My daughters, Gin and Rum, are so excited for Jena and Alys, who will surely be among their first clients when my daughters begin their designer-clothing line. Expect brilliant things from all BSD brands. I mean girls.

LADY: Hai, my only regret in eloping was that I didn’t get to wear QaziKreations at my wedding. But I will be wearing Qazi only at JenaBungles and AlysDarsee. Oh God, not this question again! Who cares if Wick was paid to marry me? Think of it this way: instead of a man buying a woman, here is a woman who bought a man.

MARI: Shakespeare says ‘All’s well that ends well.’ God says that too. So you know what that means? Shakespeare was Muslim.