My Kind of Girl by Buddhadeva Bose

unnecessarily. “Yes, of course I’m going – just that I’m attending to an important case right now, so . . .”
    â€œYou’re definitely going?”
    â€œDefinitely.” 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.”
    â€œNot go? What are you saying?” I could feel the tremor in my own voice.
    â€œNo, 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?”
    â€œSo, why doesn’t the gentleman stay a gentleman? Take my word for it, none of what they’re expecting will actually happen.”
    â€œBut surely you have to get married.”
    â€œWhy must I?”
    â€œYou’re not a child – you know perfectly well . . .”
    â€œYou think so too!” said Bina, and gazed at the water again. I lookedin turn at her eyes and at the water. They seemed similar to me; black and white, bright and moist.
    Suddenly Bina turned to me and said, “No – I cannot – you mustn’t go – you must save me.”
    â€œMe? How can I save you?”
    As soon as I asked, I knew the question was meaningless; Bina had answered it long ago!
    Ramen was the first to arrive on hearing the news. He leaped in the air, embraced me and spun me around, tipped the servants five rupees each – then left in a whirl and returned an hour later, in a whirl. Handing me an emerald ring and a sari with silver work on it, he said, “Here’s your pre-wedding gift. Don’t forget to visit the Duttas in the evening – they’ve just got back.”
    Mr. Dutta smiled when I met him. “What’s all this I hear?”
    â€œSo it really turned out to be the ‘new nest’ for you,” said Mrs. Dutta.
    â€œSo I see. The new nest for the new guest – it even rhymes,” joked Mr. Dutta.
    â€œOf course it’ll match. The match that they’ve made will now ensure that.”
    The couple continued in this vein for a while, and I laughed like a fool, red with embarrassment.
    The days passed in a whirl. On the one side were the sharp verbal darts from the two future sisters-in-laws – here too Mr. Dutta found a rhyme, pointing out that brave hearts attract verbal darts – while on the other was the business of finding a new house, buying thingsneeded to set up home. Ramen went everywhere with me, arranging everything. I’d never have been able to do it all myself. And then – and then what else but the arrival of June twenty-ninth? I went to the new house. Ramen had been there since morning – he was the sole representative from the groom’s side, and I still recall the exhilaration shining on his handsome face. Suddenly I felt a little sad too. It was he who had aroused Bina – and I was the one she had ended up with. Was I, then, just someone who was conveniently available? Had it been someone else at hand instead of me, would the outcome have been the same? Perhaps even that court officer in trousers? After our wedding, I had asked Bina about this and she replied, with that air particular to a bride, “Uff!” Later, she added that she wanted to laugh when she thought about the scene she had created because of her infatuation with Ramen. Wanted to laugh? Already? On the chance that she had not married me,