Unmarriageable(67)

Mrs Binat picked up her shoe and threatened Alys with a beating. Nona, her arms spread out, rushed between mother and daughter.

‘Pinkie, pagal ho gai ho?’ Nona asked. ‘Have you gone mad?’

‘Nona jee,’ Mrs Binat yelled, ‘would it have killed her to marry Kaleen? Who will marry her now? Who will marry her?’

Alys strode towards her mother. Everyone froze. Then Alys hugged her mother tightly, not letting her go.

‘Don’t sell us short, Mummy,’ Alys implored. ‘Don’t sell me short. I’m not useless or good for nothing. I don’t want to get married just for the sake of it. I don’t need to.’

Mrs Binat sobbed on her daughter’s shoulder. Alys rocked her mother gently. Finally Mrs Binat pushed Alys away, but it was not as rough a push at it could have been.

‘Don’t be so hard on the girls, Pinkie,’ Falak said, handing her sister a tranquilliser and a glass of water. ‘No matter what we do, kismet is the real decider of our fates.’

‘Kismet has nothing to do with anything,’ Mrs Binat said. ‘It’s all about looks.’

‘Kismet, fate, destiny,’ Falak said. ‘I was as beautiful as you, and look what became of me.’

‘You’re still beautiful,’ Mrs Binat said, because what else was one to say to a faded beauty.

‘Good looks don’t guarantee happiness or riches,’ Falak said. ‘Also, I’ve seen a thousand handsome and rich men marrying ugly women.’

‘True,’ Nona seconded.

‘The only men who marry ugly women,’ Mrs Binat said, ‘are men terrified someone else might find their wife attractive and tempt her into cheating. Proper men are proud to wear beauty on their sleeve. Look at Prince Chaarless and Lady Dayna.’

‘Charles,’ Lady corrected her mother. ‘Diana.’

‘Charles and Diana,’ Alys said, ‘are a perfect example of a mismatched arranged marriage.’

‘At least Dayna married a prince,’ said Mrs Binat tearfully. ‘Tell me, Falak, how to flip my daughters’ rotten kismets? How many more times should I read the Quran for their luck to change? How many more wazeefays must I pray? How many more fasts must I keep? How many more manaats must I make? Nothing is working.’

Mrs Binat turned to Nona’s children, who’d been watching her with wide eyes. She kissed them and told them to go forth and play and make as much noise as they pleased. Indus, Buraaq, Miraage, and Khyber ran rampant through Binat House, their blissful laughter drowning out Mrs Binat whenever she slipped back into a berating mood. The Binat girls began to unfurl. Lady gave Indus piggyback rides up and down the stairs. Mari bowled to Buraaq’s bat. Qitty made paper planes with Miraage. Jena tossed Khyber up in the air and caught him, letting his mirth plant smiles on her face.

‘The children have done wonders for Jena,’ Alys told Nona one morning as they sorted out gently used clothes to donate to charity. ‘I can’t tell you how quiet and sombre she’d become. I just know it’s his sisters and that horrid Dracula that have kept Bungles away.’

‘In our culture,’ Nona said, ‘men flirt. They enjoy. They move on. They are brought up to believe that women are expendable. We are brought up to believe the opposite. One glance from a man and we readily give away our heart.’

‘Jena certainly did not mean to set herself up,’ Alys said. ‘It’s all Mummy’s fault. Dressing up Jena to be sold like a commodity. Convincing her that all she needs is the right outfit to get him to propose. Jena asked me if wearing something else might have made the difference. That’s how insecure Mummy has made her feel. Did I tell you she keeps leaving her classes at school? Mrs Naheed called me in again the other day to warn me that one more time and she’ll have to ask Jena to take a leave of absence.’

‘A leave of absence?’ Nona squinted. ‘Might Jena want to return to Lahore with us? A change of scenery may do her good.’

‘Being away from our mother will definitely do her good.’

‘I didn’t want to put it like that.’ Nona smiled. ‘Lahore is Bungles’s city too, but I’ll make sure we have no reason to visit their part of town.’

‘I think being in the same city but with no contact will be good for her.’

‘Good. As for you, I want to talk to you about Jeorgeullah Wickaam. He’s very popular in your household, I can see, and your mother is certain that he’s going to marry Qitty, because he encouraged her to dance all of once, but I’ve heard the special way you speak of him.’

‘I don’t speak of him in any special way.’ Alys folded a dupatta and added it to the keep pile.

‘Sure.’ Nona flicked Alys on her nose. ‘Now, he’s very handsome and magnetic, but I warn you, he’s not marriageable material.’

‘How can you say that?’

‘Believe me, I can tell. In my line of work, I come across all sorts of people, and Jeorgeullah Wickaam is a coaster. I would hate to see you end up with a coaster, Alys, and marriage has a way of turning coasters into burdens on their wives. Look at your Falak Khala.’

‘I have it on good authority,’ Alys laughed, ‘from Advocate Musarrat Jr. that Wickaam is a rising star.’

‘I’m serious, Alys,’ Nona said. ‘Wickaam’s wife will be a star before he ever is. He’ll be content at home, getting manicures, pedicures, facials, and massages all day long, a triumphant trophy husband.’