Unmarriageable Read online

  Praise for Unmarriageable

  ‘Kamal masterfully transports Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice from Regency England to modern-day Pakistan in this excellent retelling … [A] funny, sometimes romantic, often thought-provoking glimpse into Pakistani culture, one which adroitly illustrates the double standards women face when navigating sex, love and marriage. This is a must-read for devout Austenites’

  Publishers Weekly *starred review*

  ‘Irreverent, witty, and imaginative. Readers will be surprised by the similarities between the customs and manners of 19th century England and those of modern-day Pakistan. Austen herself would have enjoyed Kamal’s deft retelling of her novel, while sipping a cup of chai’

  Thrity Umrigar, bestselling author of The Space Between Us

  ‘Soniah Kamal has gifted us a refreshing update of a timeless classic. Unmarriageable raises an eyebrow at a society which views marriage as the ultimate prize for women. Crackling with dialogue, family tensions, humour and rich details of life in contemporary Pakistan, Unmarriageable tells an entirely new story about love, luck and literature’

  Balli Kaur Jaswal, author of Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows

  ‘Unmarriageable is a joyride featuring all the beloved Austen characters with a Pakistani twist, drawing on universal themes of love, passion, and the healing nature of tea. I read it in one gulp!’

  Amulya Malladi, bestselling author of A House for Happy Mothers and The Mango Season

  UNMARRIAGEABLE

  Pride and Prejudice in Pakistan

  Soniah Kamal

  For Mansoor Wasti,

  friend, love, partner,

  and

  Buraaq, Indus, Miraage,

  heart, soul, life

  Upon the whole, however, I am … well satisfied enough. The work is rather too light, and bright, and sparkling; it wants shade; it wants to be stretched out here and there with a long chapter of sense, if it could be had; if not, of solemn specious nonsense, about something unconnected with the story; an essay on writing, a critique on Walter Scott, or the history of Buonaparte, or anything that would form a contrast, and bring the reader with increased delight to the playfulness and epigrammatism of the general style.

  Jane Austen on Pride and Prejudice

  in a letter (1813) to her sister, Cassandra

  I have no knowledge of either Sanscrit or Arabic … I have never found one among them [Orientalists] who could deny that a single shelf of a good European library was worth the whole native literature of India and Arabia. The intrinsic superiority of the Western Literature … we are free to employ our funds as we choose, that we ought to employ them in teaching what is best worth knowing, that English is better worth knowing than Sanscrit or Arabic … that it is possible to make natives of this country thoroughly good English scholars, and that to this end our efforts ought to be directed … We must at present do our best to form a class who may be interpreters between us and the millions whom we govern – a class of persons Indian in blood and colour, but English in tastes, in opinions, in morals and in intellect. To that class we may leave it to refine the vernacular dialects of the country.

  From Thomas Babington Macaulay’s

  ‘Minute on Education’, 1835

  CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  DEDICATION

  EPIGRAPH

  PART ONE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  PART TWO

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  PART THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  WHAT WILL PEOPLE SAY

  EPILOGUE

  PRIDE AND PREJUDICE AND ME

  NOTES AND RESOURCES

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  BY SONIAH KAMAL

  COPYRIGHT

  PART ONE

  DECEMBER 2000

  CHAPTER ONE

  It is a truth universally acknowledged that a girl can go from pauper to princess or princess to pauper in the mere seconds it takes for her to accept a proposal.

  When Alysba Binat began working at age twenty as the English literature teacher at the British School of Dilipabad, she had thought it would be a temporary solution to the sudden turn of fortune that had seen Mr Barkat ‘Bark’ Binat and Mrs Khushboo ‘Pinkie’ Binat and their five daughters – Jenazba, Alysba, Marizba, Qittyara, and Lady – move from big-city Lahore to backwater Dilipabad. But here she was, ten years later, thirty years old, and still in the job she’d grown to love despite its challenges. Her new batch of Year 10s were starting Pride and Prejudice, and their first homework had been to rewrite the opening sentence of Jane Austen’s novel, always a fun activity and a good way for her to get to know her students better.

  After Alys took attendance, she opened a fresh box of multicoloured chalks and invited the girls to share their sentences on the blackboard. The first to jump up was Rose-Nama, a crusader for duty and decorum, and one of the more trying students. Rose-Nama deliberately bypassed the coloured chalks for a plain white one, and Alys braced herself for a reimagined sentence exulting a traditional life – marriage, children, death. As soon as Rose-Nama ended with mere seconds it takes for her to accept a proposal, the class erupted into cheers, for it was true: a ring did possess magical powers to transform into pauper or princess. Rose-Nama gave a curtsy and, glancing defiantly at Alys, returned to her desk.

  ‘Good job,’ Alys said. ‘Who wants to go next?’

  As hands shot up, she looked affectionately at the girls at their wooden desks, their winter uniforms impeccably washed and pressed by dhobis and maids, their long braids (for good girls did not get a boyish cut like Alys’s) draped over their books, and she wondered who they’d end up becoming by the end of secondary school. She recalled herself at their age – an eager-to-learn though ultimately naive Ms Know-It-All.

  ‘Miss Alys, me me me,’ the class clown said, pumping her hand energetically.

  Alys nodded, and the girl selected a blue chalk and began to write.

  It is a truth universally acknowledged that a young girl in possession of a pretty face, a fair complexion, a slim figure, and good height is not going to happily settle for a very ugly husband if he doesn’t have enough money, unless she has the most incredible bad luck (which my cousin does).

  The class exploded into laughter and Alys smiled too.

  ‘My cousin’s biggest complaint,’ the girl said, her eyes twinkling, ‘is that he’s so hairy. Miss Alys, how is it fair that girls are expected to wax everywhere but boys can be as hairy as gorillas?’

  ‘Double standards,’ Alys said.

  ‘Oof,’ Rose-Nama said. ‘Which girl wants a moustache and a hairy back? I don’t.’

  A chorus of I don’ts filled the room, and Alys was glad to see all the class energised and participating.

  ‘I don’t either,’ Alys said complacently, ‘but the issue is that women don’t seem to have a choice that is free from judgement.’

  ‘Miss Alys,’ called out a popular girl. ‘Can I go next?’

 
; It is unfortunately not a truth universally acknowledged that it is better to be alone than to have fake friendships.

  As soon as she finished the sentence, the popular girl tossed the pink chalk into the box and glared at another girl across the room. Great, Alys thought, as she told her to sit down; they’d still not made up. Alys was known as the teacher you could go to with any issue and not be busted, and both girls had come to her separately, having quarrelled over whether one could have only one best friend. Ten years ago, Alys would have panicked at such disruptions. Now she barely blinked. Also, being one of five sisters had its perks, for it was good preparation for handling classes full of feisty girls.

  Another student got up and wrote in red:

  It is a truth universally acknowledged that every marriage, no matter how good, will have ups and downs.

  ‘This class is a wise one,’ Alys said to the delighted girl.

  The classroom door creaked open from the December wind, a soft whistling sound that Alys loved. The sky was darkening and rain dug into the school lawn, where, weather permitting, classes were conducted under the sprawling century-old banyan tree and the girls loved to let loose and play rowdy games of rounders and cricket. Cold air wafted into the room and Alys wrapped her shawl tightly around herself. She glanced at the clock on the mildewed wall.

  ‘We have time for a couple more sentences,’ and she pointed to a shy girl at the back. The girl took a green chalk and, biting her lip, began to write:

  It is a truth universally acknowledged that if you are the daughter of rich and generous parents, then you have the luxury to not get married just for security.

  ‘Wonderful observation,’ Alys said kindly, for, according to Dilipabad’s healthy rumour mill, the girl’s father’s business was currently facing setbacks. ‘But how about the daughter earn a good income of her own and secure this freedom for herself?’

  ‘Yes, miss,’ the girl said quietly as she scuttled back to her chair.

  Rose-Nama said, ‘It’s Western conditioning to think independent women are better than homemakers.’

  ‘No one said anything about East, West, better, or worse,’ Alys said. ‘Being financially independent is not a Western idea. The Prophet’s wife, Hazrat Khadijah, ran her own successful business back in the day and he was, to begin with, her employee.’

  Rose-Nama frowned. ‘Have you ever reimagined the first sentence?’

  Alys grabbed a yellow chalk and wrote her variation, as she inevitably did every year, ending with the biggest flourish of an exclamation point yet.

  It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single woman in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a husband!

  ‘How,’ Alys said, ‘does this gender-switch from the original sentence make you feel? Can it possibly be true or can you see the irony, the absurdity, more clearly now?’

  The classroom door was flung open and Tahira, a student, burst in. She apologised for being late even as she held out her hand, her fingers splayed to display a magnificent four-carat marquis diamond ring.

  ‘It happened last night! Complete surprise!’ Tahira looked excited and nervous. ‘Ammi came into my bedroom and said, “Put away your homework-shomework, you’re getting engaged.” Miss Alys, they are our family friends and own a textile mill.’

  ‘Well,’ Alys said, ‘well, congratulations,’ and she rose to give her a hug, even as her heart sank. Girls from illustrious feudal families like sixteen-year-old Tahira married early, started families without delay, and had grandchildren of their own before they knew it. It was a lucky few who went to university while the rest got married, for this was the Tao of obedient girls in Dilipabad; Alys went so far as to say the Tao of good girls in Pakistan.

  Yet it always upset her that young brilliant minds, instead of exploring the universe, were busy chiselling themselves to fit into the moulds of Mrs and Mum. It wasn’t that she was averse to Mrs Mum, only that none of the girls seemed to have ever considered travelling the world by themselves, let alone been encouraged to do so, or to shatter a glass ceiling, or laugh like a madwoman in public without a care for how it looked. At some point over the years, she’d made it her job to inject (or as some, like Rose-Nama’s mother, would say, ‘infect’) her students with possibility. And even if the girls in this small sleepy town refused to wake up, wasn’t it her duty to try? How grateful she’d have been for such a teacher. Instead, she and her sisters had also been raised under their mother’s motto to marry young and well, an expectation neither thirty-year-old Alys, nor her elder sister, thirty-two-year-old Jena, had fulfilled.

  In the year 2000, in the lovely town of Dilipabad, in the lovelier state of Punjab, women like Alys and Jena were, as far as their countrymen and -women were concerned, certified Miss Havishams, Charles Dickens’s famous spinster who’d wasted away her life. Actually, Alys and Jena were considered even worse off, for they had not enjoyed Miss Havisham’s good luck of having at least once been engaged.

  As Alys watched, the class swarmed around Tahira, wishing out loud that they too would be blessed with such a ring and begin their real lives.

  ‘Okay, girls,’ she finally said. ‘Settle down. You can ogle the diamond after class. Tahira, you too. I hope you did your homework? Can you share your sentence on the board?’

  Tahira began writing with an orange chalk, her ring flashing like a big bright light bulb at the blackboard – exactly the sort of ring, Alys knew, her own mother coveted for her daughters.

  It is a truth universally acknowledged in this world and beyond that having an ignorant mother is worse than having no mother at all.

  ‘There,’ Tahira said, carefully wiping chalk dust off her hands. ‘Is that okay, miss?’

  Alys smiled. ‘It’s an opinion.’

  ‘It’s rude and disrespectful,’ Rose-Nama called out. ‘Parents can never be ignorant.’

  ‘What does ignorant mean in this case, do you think?’ Alys said. ‘At what age might one’s own experiences outweigh a parent’s?’

  ‘Never,’ Rose-Nama said frostily. ‘Miss Alys, parents will always have more experience and know what is best for us.’

  ‘Well,’ Alys said, ‘we’ll see in Pride and Prejudice how the main character and her mother start out with similar views, and where and why they begin to separate.’

  ‘Miss Alys,’ Tahira said, sliding into her seat, ‘my mother said I won’t be attending school after my marriage, so I was wondering, do I still have to do assign—’

  ‘Yes.’ Alys calmly cut her off, having heard this too many times. ‘I expect you to complete each and every assignment, and I also urge you to request that your parents and fiancé, and your mother-in-law, allow you to finish secondary school.’

  ‘I’d like to,’ Tahira said a little wistfully. ‘But my mother says there are more important things than fractions and ABCs.’

  Alys would have offered to speak to the girl’s mother, but she knew from previous experiences that her recommendation carried no weight. An unmarried woman advocating pursuits outside the home might as well be a witch spreading anarchy and licentiousness.

  ‘Just remember,’ Alys said quietly, ‘there is more to life than getting married and having children.’

  ‘But, miss,’ Tahira said hesitantly, ‘what’s the purpose of life without children?’

  ‘The same purpose as there would be with children – to be a good human being and contribute to society. Look, plenty of women physically unable to have children still live perfectly meaningful lives, and there are as many women who remain childless by choice.’

  Rose-Nama glared. ‘That’s just wrong.’

  ‘It’s not wrong,’ Alys said gently. ‘It’s relative. Not every woman wants to keep home and hearth, and I’m sure not every man wants to be the breadwinner.’

  ‘What does he want to do, then?’ Rose-Nama said. ‘Knit?’

  Alys painstakingly removed a fraying silver thread from her black shawl. Finally she said, in an even tone, ‘You�
��ll all be pleased to see that there are plenty of marriages in Pride and Prejudice.’

  ‘Why do you like the book so much, then?’ Rose-Nama asked disdainfully.

  ‘Because,’ Alys said simply, ‘Jane Austen is ruthless when it comes to drawing-room hypocrisy. She’s blunt, impolite, funny, and absolutely honest. She’s Jane Khala, one of those honorary good aunts who tells it straight and looks out for you.’

  Alys erased the blackboard and wrote, Elizabeth Bennet: First Impressions?, then turned to lead the discussion among the already buzzing girls. None of them had previously read Pride and Prejudice, but many had watched the 1995 BBC drama and were swooning over the scene in which Mr Darcy emerged from the lake on his Pemberley property in a wet white shirt. She informed them that this particular scene was not in the novel and that, in Austen’s time, men actually swam naked. The girls burst into nervous giggles.

  ‘Miss,’ a few of the girls, giddy, emboldened, piped up, ‘when are you getting married?’

  ‘Never.’ Alys had been wondering when this class would finally get around to broaching the topic.

  ‘But why not!’ several distressed voices cried out. ‘You’re not that old. And, if you grow your hair long again and start using bright lipstick, you will be so pret—’

  ‘Girls, girls’ – Alys raised her amused voice over the clamour – ‘unfortunately, I don’t think any man I’ve met is my equal, and neither, I fear, is any man likely to think I’m his. So, no marriage for me.’

  ‘You think marriage is not important?’ Rose-Nama said, squinting.

  ‘I don’t believe it’s for everyone. Marriage should be a part of life and not life.’