Unmarriageable(48)

‘Farhat Kaleen has his own appeal,’ Mrs Binat stressed to Nona and Nisar until they deigned to nod. Mari agreed with her mother, but she kept quiet.

‘Mummy!’ Lady said, ‘he’s yuck-thoo! His nose looks like a popcorn! And he’s so unstylish. Why did his kids let him dress like a clown?’

Mrs Binat reminded Lady that sometimes parents did not listen to children and – she looked sharply at Alys – children also refused to benefit from their parents’ wisdom.

‘Qitty,’ Mrs Binat said, ‘did you see how much attention Wickaam paid to you?’

Qitty nodded shyly.

Lady snorted. ‘He told me that I was a glamour queen destined for tremendous things.’

Hopefully, Mrs Binat thought as she rose to go to bed, the wait for Wickaam to become a Rich Man and propose to Qitty would not be too long, and at least Alys would not die in waiting for her Prince Charming, because Farhat Kaleen was truly eager to make her his blushing bride-to-be sooner rather than later.





CHAPTER TWELVE





On the evening of the NadirFiede walima, Mrs Binat opened the door to Farhat Kaleen arriving a full hour earlier than departure time. He was ablaze in sickeningly sweet cologne and looking, he believed, very sexy in a khaki suit, fuchsia shirt, and a white-and-fuchsia-striped tie.

Alys had chosen to wear the sari she’d refused at the mehndi ceremony. It was the colour of Kashmiri pink tea, and Mrs Binat couldn’t help but conclude that the coincidence of Farhat and Alys both wearing shades of pink was a sign from God that they were a match made in heaven.

Jena looked striking in a peach zardozi kameez and seed pearl embroidered open front gown paired with a white silk thang pyjama, a shahtoosh shawl, and Ganju jee’s rubies. The rest of the girls looked their best in lavenders, yellows, and greens, though, on second thought, Mrs Binat decided she was never going to dress Qitty in green again. She looked like a raw mango.

So it was just as well that Wickaam had sent Nona a thank-you note for the Christmas party with the message that, unfortunately, he would be unable to attend NadirFiede’s walima. Qitty was understandably upset, and all the girls were miffed. Mrs Binat herself was quite peeved at being deprived of his company, and she kept snapping at Mr Binat to stop whining about not wanting to go: even if his brother and sister-in-law were at the walima, he was to merely nod at them and move on.

When it was time to leave, Mrs Binat put the Quran on Jena’s head and read the Ayatul Kursi – not that there was doubt in anyone’s mind that tonight, at NadirFiede’s final event, Bungles must propose. Since Kaleen had his driver and car – the latest model of an excellent make, Mrs Binat was gratified to see – she instructed Jena and Alys to ride with him. To her annoyance, Sherry climbed in with them – not that it really mattered, because no one in their right mind was going to give Sherry Looclus a second look, despite the poor thing having dressed up as best as she could in those tacky puffed sleeves and that greasy lipstick.

Mr and Mrs Binat, Lady, Qitty, and Mari got into Nisar’s car with Ajmer, directions in hand, and they set off for the walima, which was to be held at Nadir Sheh’s family’s farmhouse. In this case, ‘farmhouse’ meant a country villa surrounded by meadows without a single animal, barnyard or otherwise, to speak of. Since the Binats were arriving in good cars, Mrs Binat insisted on idling at the gate in order to be noticed. Alys finally got out of Kaleen’s car, grateful that the ride was over. Kaleen had talked at her the whole forty-five minutes about how many lives he’d saved, when all she’d wanted to do was mourn Wickaam’s decision to stay away on account, no doubt, of horrid Darsee.

As soon as they entered the gates, Mrs Binat saw Mrs Naheed on the red carpet leading up to the farmhouse, with her husband, Zaleel, and Gin and Rum dressed in flapper-style long frocks. Dear God, Mrs Binat thought, the twins looked like shredded streamers.

‘Girls look great!’ she said, greeting Naheed. ‘QaziKreations?’

Naheed nodded and complimented the Binat girls’ attire. Formalities complete, everyone marvelled at the abundance of flowers wherever they looked. The villa’s main gate and boundary walls were strung with thick floral ropes. A tunnel of candlelit flowers engulfed the brick path from the gate leading to the driveway and a mini-fountain awash in petals. Guests turned from the mini-fountain into a dazzling floral pergola, which took them to the garden and into a tent of flowers, an Eden within an Eden, which meant, Alys couldn’t help but think, there must be snakes too.

‘This is what being in a bouquet must smell like,’ Mrs Binat said as she made her way under the floral canopy towards forest-green velvet sofas.

Nadir and Fiede were wearing matching yellow-and-black ensembles designed by Qazi, for which, it was rumoured, the designer had charged enough to enjoy at least five sumptuous holidays.

‘Are NadirFiede supposed to be bumblebees?’ Lady asked as she took an effervescent mint drink from a floral tray.

‘I think,’ Mrs Binat replied, squinting, ‘the newly-weds are sunflowers.’

‘Mummy,’ Alys said, ‘I think you just might be right.’

‘I’m always right,’ Mrs Binat said, ‘even if you and your father seldom acknowledge it.’

Mr Binat barely registered his wife’s complaint, on the lookout as he was for Goga and Tinkle, his ears buzzing so badly he could barely hear Kaleen’s prattle.