My Kind of Girl (10 page)

I put Bina through a round of calcium injections, prescribed two patent pills – one after meals and one before going to bed – and fixed a diet for her. The treatment appeared to be working; her cheeks grew redder, her eyes, brighter, her skin, silkier. Her eldest sister joked, “Bina's blooming – marriage beckons.”

Her mother arrived from Benaras, and the matchmaking began. But whenever a prospective groom was mentioned, Bina would fling her hands up, make a face and say, “Oh, spare me, please.” By now the ice had thawed between us. Her mimicry of potential suitors, ranging from a young shawl-wearing professor to a widower landowner of Rangpur, accompanied by her comments, made me both laugh and feel sorry for those unknown gentlemen.

Her eldest sister scolded her. “Bina, stop this tomfoolery. You don't seem to like any of them, you'll never find a husband this way.”

Bina said, “Am I heartbroken because of that?”

Her sister retorted, “Why should you be heartbroken. These days girls turn twenty-five, even thirty, and still don't get married, they just go on being teachers till they're ready to drop. Let's hope it doesn't happen to you.”

“If that's what fate holds how can I avoid it?”

“Why are you being so unreasonable? Think of Ma – she's getting on, how much longer . . .”

“We've been through all this,
bordi
.”

“Why don't you tell us what kind of person you want – we'll look.”

Bina said, “Are you telling me it's like an outfit or a shoe that you can order at a shop?”

All this was happening in my presence, I felt quite uncomfortable. Just as I was wondering if I could leave on a pretext, Bina's sister suddenly glanced at me and said, “Why look anywhere else – you and Abani here are a perfect match.”

Bina went off in peals of laughter. “What rubbish!”

Her laughter betrayed excellent health, but it didn't ring very nicely in this doctor's ears. I stood up and said grimly, “Well, goodbye.”

Bina's sister said, “You seem annoyed.”

“Not at all – I have some things to do, so . . .”

“Will you take us for a spin in your car? It's so hot, we'd love some fresh air.”

“Of course. Come along . . .”

“What about you, Bina?” asked her sister as she rose.

Bina came along too. After a couple of turns around the Dhakuria Lake, I stopped the car. Bina's sister wanted to sit on the grass, but as soon as we got out of the car, she ran into a neighbor and the two of them walked on ahead.

“What would you like to do?” I asked Bina. “Sit here, or catch up with them?”

Bina said, “Might as well go back, this area has become terrible these days.”

“We'll go back when they return,” I persisted. “Let's sit down for a while.”

The two of us sat down, and then there was no conversation. I was trying to dredge the shallows of my brain for something to say, when Bina suddenly said, “My sisters imagine I've forgotten Ramen. But I haven't – and won't either.”

I responded, “I know. And I feel bad about what they say too.”

“But let me ask you something. Why do you hang about our place – aren't you supposed to be a friend of Ramen's?”

I cannot myself describe what my expression must have been like at that moment but it must have been quite terrible, for the moment she looked at me, Bina's expression changed as well. She said quickly in a low voice, “Please don't mind, I shouldn't have said that.”

“You're right,” I said and stood up.

Bina stood up immediately too and said, “I never say such things to anyone, I wish I knew why I said it to you. Please tell me you won't remember this.”

“But you're right.”

“No, I'm not. I'm wrong. You'll come tomorrow, won't you? Tell me you'll come.”

“I will.”

“Can you tell me something? Has Ramen married his Ruth?”

“I don't know.”

“Don't you run into him anymore?”

“I haven't seen him in ages.”

She didn't say anything else.

I said, “If there's anything you want to tell him I can let him know.”

“No, I have nothing to tell him,” said Bina and sighed.

Her sister rejoined us. Bina rose and said, “Let's go home.”

“So soon?” said her sister and looked at her, and then at me. “What's the matter, have you two been quarrelling?”

Bina laughed in a manner designed to prove the complete falsity of her sister's surmise, but the laughter lacked authenticity. I didn't smile either.

That night I made up my mind. Enough – this was the end. If Bina could say to my face what she did, the mere suspicion of what she really thought made me break out in a sweat. The expression “hang about” was eating away at my brain like termites. But it wasn't right to do anything drastic suddenly; that would be melodramatic, people would notice, it would become a topic of conversation. After all, I had developed something of an intimacy with these people over the past few months. Without revealing my intentions I planned to gradually decrease the frequency of my visits, and then finally disappear – nobody would consider anything significant to have happened. I'd get peace of mind, they'd be relieved, Bina wouldn't have to put up with the unwanted company of a fool.

With this objective, I visited them the next day, to discover Bina all dressed up and waiting in the drawing room. She said, “Ah, you're here.”

When I glanced at her she said, “I was worried you wouldn't come anymore.”

I realized this was a case of applying a balm of sweetness to the previous day's wound. Forcing a smile, I said, “Why shouldn't I?”

Bina laughed unaffectedly and said, “That's what I thought. But how
bordi
scolded me last night!”

“Scolded you? Why?”

“It seems I'm very rude, unsocial, impertinent . . .”

“Why, what's the matter?”

“I've already admitted it was wrong of me to have said what I did – why drive it home further? Anyway, now that you've come, I'm relieved.
Bordi, bordi
. . .” Bina called out without getting up. “Abani has come.”

I hadn't seen Bina in such great spirits recently – never, in fact – for from the time I had seen her, she had been overcome by love. She seemed like a different person, like a child, it was good.

After her bath, Bina's sister came in and said, “Bina, could you get the tea please? They're making some snacks, get those as well.”

When Bina had left, her sister smiled at me and said, “We've fixed her marriage with that court officer, Abani. The boy's family is in a hurry, and Ma's getting anxious too. And really, how long can one delay these things?”

It seemed to me Bina was something of a burden for these people, that they'd be thankful to be rid of her. I didn't like the idea.

“We were thinking of next month – the twenty-ninth . . .”

“So soon?” the words escaped my mouth.

“We've written to Gayatri, they'll arrive soon.”

Things had progressed quite a ways. And I knew nothing. Then
again, why should I know – where did I stand in the scheme of things, after all? Was that why Bina was in such high spirits today?

Her sister said, “What do you think?”

“I was only thinking . . .”

“Thinking what? That's what I want to know.”

“Has she agreed?”

“Bina? We can't afford to wait for her to agree. We can't all be as childish as she is, can we?”

So, she hadn't agreed? The marriage was against her wishes? And still so joyful?

The tea arrived, so did the snacks, and so did Bina. But the tea tasted bitter, the snacks stale, I didn't even glance at Bina.

After I had finished my tea, Bina's sister said, “Shall we go to the lake again?”

My mind was wandering, I came to with a start and said, “Were you talking to me?”

“Of course I was talking to you. Let's not take the car, it's not very far, after all. A walk will be nice.”

She knew everyone in the neighborhood; no sooner did we go out than she ran into someone she knew. A little later I noticed Bina and I had left them far behind. Back then, girls were just beginning to move around freely in that part of town. Observing this, I said, “This freedom for women is a very good thing.”

Bina said, “Do you think the freedom to move around freely is everything?”

“I think it'll grow to cover other things too.”

“I don't see it happening.”

The words had been on the tip of my tongue for quite some time, I took the opportunity to say them. “You sister gave me the good news.”

“What good news?”

“Apparently on the twenty-ninth of next month . . .”

“Are you mad?”

“You mean it isn't true?”

“Why don't you ask the one who told you?”

I didn't say anything more, but I felt much lighter. If I had had to hear from the same Bina who had told me the day before she'd never forget Ramen, that she was about to marry a young court officer of her own free will, wouldn't that have been sad? And yet, what was so sad about it – didn't such things happen all the time? Of course they did – every day – and what was wrong with it? And even if you could blame the others, there was no question of blaming Bina, for Ramen neither visited nor even inquired after her, he was probably immersed in Ruth, the scoundrel! If I could have, I would have forced him to marry Bina – but why was I so concerned, what responsibility did I have? Hadn't I vowed the previous night to put a full stop to this? Indeed, what on earth was I doing here, why did I even visit every day, why did I ever get involved with that play and the people in it? This was the time for me to expand my medical practice, I shouldn't have even been concerned with anything else. Suddenly it occurred to me that there would be no salvation unless I left Calcutta. Why not spend
a few days in Darjeeling, and then get to work with fresh determination – yes, this was a good idea.

Engrossed in my thoughts, I suddenly heard Bina's voice, “A penny for your thoughts.”

I replied immediately, “I'm going to Darjeeling.” It sounded discordant even to my own ears.

“Why?”

“Just like that – on a holiday.”

“When?”

“Early next month,” I said.

“Which means very soon . . .”

“Very soon . . .”

Bina suddenly stopped and said, “Let's wait, they've fallen a long way behind.”

There it was. Since I was off to Darjeeling in a week, why break the routine for the remaining few days? My daily visits continued, and the promenade to the lake became a regular feature too. Bina's sister was the most enthusiastic about them, running into people from the neighborhood every day and leaving us to chat with them. Bina and I walked a little, sat a little, sometimes speaking, sometimes silent. We discussed many issues those days by the lake, and, amazingly, discovered we thought alike on most of them.

On the first of June, Bina said, “When are you going?”

“Going? Where?”

“So you're not going to Darjeeling.”

To hide my embarrassment I explained unnecessarily. “Yes, of course I'm going – just that I'm attending to an important case right now, so . . .”

“You're definitely going?”

“Definitely.” The more I said it the more my obstinacy grew – yes, I had to go.

Bina looked at the waters of the lake for a while and suddenly said, “No, don't go.”

“Not go? What are you saying?” I could feel the tremor in my own voice.

“No, don't go,” Bina said again. “You don't know – they've really – fixed everything . . . for the twenty-ninth – but I cannot – I cannot marry that court officer in trousers . . .”

Her description didn't make me smile, for I regularly dressed the same way, doctors had to. I said severely, “Not everybody looks as good as Ramen in trousers, but that doesn't mean . . .”

Bina took the words out of my mouth, “But that doesn't mean this idiotic character . . .”

I spoke like her guardian, “Should such a thing be said about a respectable gentleman?”

“So, why doesn't the gentleman stay a gentleman? Take my word for it, none of what they're expecting will actually happen.”

“But surely you have to get married.”

“Why must I?”

“You're not a child – you know perfectly well . . .”

“You think so too!” said Bina, and gazed at the water again. I looked
in turn at her eyes and at the water. They seemed similar to me; black and white, bright and moist.