Unmarriageable(75)

After Alys hung up, she sent Sherry’s cook to the market to buy the issue. The issue had a special section devoted to the luxe and snazzy vacations enjoyed by Pakistan’s VIPs. The gang’s week of rest and relaxation in the Maldives had a full page to itself. There they were, all smiles and sun and sunglasses and aqua, as if clueless that they’d left a heartbroken girl in their wake. Hammy, Sammy, Jaans, posing on a yacht. Darsee and his sister, Jujeena, in scuba gear. In another photo, Bungles in a pool with his arm around Jujeena, who was in a hot-pink bikini top with a gigantic waxy flower behind her ear.

Alys tossed the magazine into the bin. Nothing in life was fair. Nothing. Horrible people prospered and good, kind people did not, and there was no rhyme or reason to it. And for consolation, one attributed it to destiny.



Alys woke up the next morning still feeling dismal. She went for her morning walk-jog in the pretty park not five minutes away, determined not to let ‘Social Blights’ ruin her day. She returned hot and sweaty. She bathed and changed into leggings and a T-shirt saying NOT YOUR AVERAGE BAJI. Then she proceeded to the dining room, where a late brunch was being enjoyed by all.

‘As-salaam-alaikum,’ Alys greeted everyone. Taking a seat opposite Sherry, she poured herself a mug of instant coffee and cracked a boiled egg against her plate. She grabbed the newspaper no one had opened yet and flipped through the usual news of honour killings, dowry burnings, rapes, blasphemy accusations, sectarian violence, corruption scandals, tax evasions, and the never-ending promises by vote-grubbing politicians to fix the country.

Alys was on her second coffee when the doorbell rang and, moments later, two men entered the dining room. Kaleen jumped up.

‘Aiye, aiye, welcome, welcome,’ Kaleen said, his voice shaking as he led Darsee and his friend to chairs at the head of the table. ‘An honour! An honour! Sherry, have the cook brew a fresh pot of chai and fry up another batch of your superb shami kebabs.’

Darsee’s companion was a friend from India, Raghav Kumar. He and Darsee had been at university together in Atlanta for their undergraduate degrees. No, he was not a vegetarian, Raghav said, as the cook brought in the piping-hot kebabs. Yes, many Hindus ate beef. Yes, he would very much like a cup of chai, with three teaspoons of sugar and plenty of milk.

Raghav was here on a twofold mission, one personal and the other a lifelong dream of climbing Pakistan’s – nay, the world’s – impossible mountain, K2. Last year he’d made it quite far up Everest. There were congratulations all around. Mansoor and Manzoor began to ask him questions about mountaineering, which was his hobby, and film editing, which was his job. Yes, he’d met quite a few superstars. No, he wasn’t married. Yes, he was in a relationship.

‘There’s a lovely park just around the corner from here,’ Alys said, ‘with a really nice jogging track but also an indoor climbing wall if you’re interested.’

‘Interested. Thank you.’

‘And,’ Alys added, ‘just in case it’s as big an issue for you as it might be for some people, a warning: it’s not some fancy gym or exclusive climbing club but part of a public park.’

‘Exclusivity,’ Raghav said, ‘is a silly problem for silly people, for the most part.’

Alys laughed. ‘Every segment of society here prides itself on being exclusive in some way.’

‘Such pride is a worldwide epidemic,’ Raghav said.

Darsee finally spoke. ‘How long are you here for, Alys?’

‘A few weeks,’ she said a little curtly. ‘When did you come to Islamabad?’

‘Last night,’ Darsee said. ‘We drove in from Lahore. Annie mentioned that you were all here …’

‘Did you happen to see my sister Jena in Lahore?’ Alys asked. ‘She’s been there these past few months.’

Darsee cleared his throat. ‘No. Have you read the novel I gave you yet?’

‘No. How was your time in the Maldives?’ Alys asked.

‘The usual.’

‘And what is the usual, for those of us not privy to your usual or to the Maldives’ usual?’

‘Hot and too commercial.’

‘Your party was featured in Social Lights. You seemed not too bothered by the heat and commerce.’

Darsee scowled. ‘Hammy and Sammy had no right to release my sister’s or my photos for public consumption.’

‘Some people,’ Alys said, ‘think it a great badge of social currency to be featured in social pages. I believe the term used is “‘making it”.’

‘Good for some people,’ Darsee said. ‘I find it crass. We’re private people, not celebrities.’

Alys groaned. ‘Please don’t tell me you’re one of those people who both love the exposure and complain about it.’

Raghav raised his cup of chai to Alys. ‘If nothing else, Social Lights has catapulted Val into the role of even-more-eligible bachelor.’

‘Every mother, father, and daughter,’ said Alys, ‘has him in their sights now. There is no escape, thanks to his holiday in Maldives, drinking pi?a coladas at pools with bars.’

Darsee rose abruptly. ‘Let’s go, Raghav. Thank you, Dr Kaleen. Good to meet your family, Mrs Kaleen. We actually came to invite you all to dinner tonight at Beena Aunty’s, but I understand you must be unavailable at such a short notice, so—’