Unmarriageable(62)

Sherry and Kaleen stood at the edge of the empty lane in the early morning under a mango tree that had grown not by design but due to littering. After exchanging shy salaams, Kaleen plunged straight into affairs of the heart. Sweating profusely, he hung his head and spoke of recently proposing to Alysba, of which Sherry was well aware.

‘A terrible mistake,’ he exclaimed.

Sherry assured him that although she and Alys were friends, in too many respects she and Alys were opposites; one was not the company one kept. Minutes passed as Kaleen enumerated why Alys would not make an ideal wife. Sherry began to worry that Alys or one of the Binats would venture out to the lane and see them or the school van would arrive. Kaleen was assuring her he had lofty roots. His ancestors had owned carpet factories in Kashmir. When his side of the family had left the Kashmir Valley for the Punjab plains in order to further the family trade, they became known as simply kaleen wallas, carpet makers. Over time, the carpet trade had fallen away, and now all the connection that remained to their once-prestigious status in Kashmir was their name, Kaleen, ‘carpet’.

Kaleen told Sherry that he’d grown up in a half-loving home, with a stern, unaffectionate father who owned a small handicraft shop and a stay-at-home mother who, amid constant hugs and kisses, never let him forget that he was the most handsome and intelligent son in the galaxy. His late wife, he informed Sherry, had held the same opinion. Sherry glanced at the rising sun as Kaleen branched off into the virtues of a good wife: cooking skills; a natural shyness combined with a cultivated modesty; could have opinions but must not voice those opinions, especially if they are in opposition to a husband’s opinions; serve in-laws; cleanliness, punctuality, innocence; sacrificing self and career for children’s well-being; sacrificing self for husband’s well-being; sacrificing self for everything.

‘I can be a good wife,’ Sherry blurted out. ‘The best.’

It was out, and she was relieved. Let the likes of Jena Binat leave the likes of Fahad Bingla wondering whether she wanted to marry him. Sherry had meant it when she’d told Alys that a woman should not leave a man in doubt of her interest. If Kaleen laughed at her, she would survive. There were worse things in life than being laughed at, and one of them was being a poor spinster. She glanced at her cat slinking down the gutter along the side wall, a large ball of grey fur. Why was Farhat Kaleen not saying anything? Was he appalled by her directness? She badly needed a cigarette. Two cigarettes.

‘You can be a good wife,’ Kaleen repeated. He wasn’t sure what to make of such straightforwardness. He’d promised his late wife that he’d remarry a woman as worthy as her, and just as she’d begun to instruct him on what exactly constituted worth, she’d taken her last breaths, which had sounded like a cat meowing. Now here was a grey cat meowing at him. Suddenly Kaleen knew this was the clue his pious wife had given him for recognising a worthy woman; that it should be a cat’s meow made perfect sense, because the Prophet Muhammad’s favourite animal was the cat, and righteous people received signs in religious terms.

Kaleen would have fallen to his knees in a prayer of gratitude had the dirt road not been excessively strewn with stones. God had known Alys was the wrong woman for him all along and thus her shockingly unexpected refusal. Instead here was Sherry Looclus, the woman who was to be his wife, and God again had blessed him by making her reveal herself to him by her boldness, for there were certainly times when natural shyness needed to take a back seat. Meow-meow came again from behind him, and Kaleen took a giant step forward. Taking Sherry’s hand in his, he declared:

‘You, my sweet, will be my wife, for, trust me, it has been ordained.’

Sherry’s knees nearly buckled. She caught herself. Until a moment ago she’d been sure Kaleen was going to spurn her. Instead, the opposite. Would she truly never have to work again unless she wanted to, or fret about bills again, or worry about whether a sister-in-law would turn her into an unpaid maid? Best to get Kaleen inside and announce the unbelievable proposal to her parents and legitimise it before he had time to reconsider. As for smoking, she would try her best to quit. But the fact was, she had a bigger secret than smoking, and though she could have hidden it from him, Sherry did not want to dupe anyone into marriage.

‘I have something to divulge,’ she said nervously.

‘Tell me, sweet, sweet Sherry.’

‘I am unable to have children.’

‘Truly,’ Kaleen said, ‘God is showering me with blessings.’

Her lack of a working uterus suited him perfectly. He wanted a mother for his children, he told her, but he did not want any more children.

Sherry hurried her beau into her house, where he proceeded to formally ask Haji Looclus for his daughter’s hand. Sherry shivered the whole time. She could hardly believe that her spoilt uterus had not ruined her prospects, having constantly heard that grim verdict over the years, and now she promised God a gratitude Hajj, extra prayers for the rest of her life, and even more alms for the poor.

Her younger sister, Mareea, shed happy tears that no one could ever mock or dismiss her hard-working elder sister for being barren. As for Sherry’s brothers, Mansoor and Manzoor, their delight was unparalleled: they loved their sister, but they were beyond relieved that someone was finally marrying her and that she was going to her ‘real’ home.

Bobia Looclus chortled with pleasure – Bobia 1, Pinkie 0 – as she retrieved her Quran and blessed the future couple by touching the holy book to their heads. Whatever his reasons for marrying her, she informed Sherry in the kitchen as they quickly prepared chai, Sherry was not to worry – Allah nigehbaan, God was watching over her. Sherry was going to prove to Farhat Kaleen that he’d made the best decision. Why should they care that Kaleen had only days ago proposed to Alys. Every man was allowed his blunders. Alys’s loss was Sherry’s gain. The Binat girls were spoilt, and their mother was to blame for always telling them that they deserved no less than princes and presidents.