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Child Brides if India
By: C. Stanton Leman
Chapter 64: Tiny Victories (Mgg, rom, cons, no sex)
The following day was pretty nondescript. Priya and I
finally got around to unpacking the suitcases, then just
lounged around the rest of the day.
After breakfast the following morning, I went to the
office
with Dad for a while but left at noon to go see Haseeba at
Adib's. When I arrived, Priya was there talking with
Haseeba, Sarah and her Mom and answered the door. She told
me to wait a minute until the girls put on their veils. The
bruise on Haseeba's face had lightened some but was still
clearly visible.
I thought that I'd better take some pictures in case the
evidence of Mahmoud's abuse faded, making our case to the
Imaam more difficult to prove, so I asked Sarah if she had
a digital camera. She went to her room and returned with a
small, basic digital camera. I took several photos and
asked Sarah to download and print a copy of each and email
copies of them to me also.
Sitting at the table, I called and spoke to the Imaam
and I
was shocked to learn that a Muslim man can divorce his
wife, but the wife can only take the initiative under a
rule called Khul'. By doing this, she claims an aversion to
her husband and agrees to pay him a sum not to exceed her dower.
I asked him "What if he made no monetary dower,
only his
love and support which she accepted along with certain promises."
"That may pose a problem," He replied,
"Her husband may
attach a monetary value to those promises and she may be
required to pay it."
"That's ludicrous!" I replied, "What if
he's physically abused her?"
"Although frowned upon," Imaam said, "A
man has the right
to physically correct his wife if he so chooses."
I thanked Imaam for his time and instruction and we
disconnected. I sadly explained the Imaam's interpretation
of the law. I ended my revelation by saying "It may come
down to me paying that scum to grant you a divorce Haseeba."
"I'm sorry to be such a burden to you and Priya,
Sean,"
Haseeba apologized.
Shaking my head I gave her a soothing smile and replied,
"You're no burden at all Haseeba, it's just the idea of
having to pay that son of a bitch that angers me!"
The other women were visibly distressed with the
unspoken
fact that women aren't treated with equality in such
things. After a few moments of silence I said, "Well,
there's nothing we can do until they find the slimy pig.
Let's go home Priya, the piano should be coming soon."
With familial hugs and kisses we said our salaams and
left
for home. Pulling into the driveway, we found that the
truck had just arrived and was opening the doors to remove
the piano. We went inside and both of the imps were jumping
up and down, chomping at the bit to starting pounding the ivories.
After moving some furniture around, I showed the movers
where to put it. Forty-five minutes later, we had a new,
beautiful walnut finished upright piano sitting against the
wall in the study.
Corralling the girls, Monaavi had them clean up their
school table, put away all the books, pencils, crayons and
papers before moving to the piano. I jokingly said to
Monaavi, "Take a break. Let them plunk around on it for a
while and release some of their excitement."
Giggling she replied, "You're probably right.
They're in no
mood for instruction at the moment."
As we drank tea in the dining room, we were laughing as
we
listened to a rendition of "Dual Munchkin Concerto Number
One in Pixie Major": a classic in the making to say the least!
When the sounds coming from the usually quiet study
seemed
to subside some, Monaavi quipped, "I hope they didn't knock
it out of tune. Let me give them their first lesson."
With that she rose and went to her charges. As she sat
with
a tiny student on each side of her on the bench, she took a
finger on each of their hands and showed them how to play
"Chopsticks" together.
After numerous tries, Attiya picked it up quickly and
then
became frustrated because Leeya kept making mistakes,
causing them to start over.
Impatient, she pushed Leeya's hand away and began
playing
both parts herself! As Mom, Priya and I stood in the
doorway watching in total amazement, Monaavi turned, smiled
and said, "I told you so."
Leeya sat with mouth agape as she stared at Attiya
repeat
the song over and over without a mistake. Pita, hearing the
tune, came to stand next to us and when she saw her baby
playing a song by herself she fell to her knees, covered
her mouth crying with amazed joy.
After playing through the tune about ten times Attiya,
the
virtuoso, stopped, turned and gave us a non-expressive look
as if to say, "I'm finished."
With wide-eyed shock, we looked at her silently then
began
to clap for her. She gave a shy smile and in return, turned
around and began to give us an encore.
Amazing! Simply amazing!
Leeya felt jealous and bolted past us and up the stairs
crying. We chuckled at her and Priya said, "I'll go talk to
her" and went upstairs to have a talk with her sister.
Monaavi put her hands gently on Attiya's and stopped her
from playing. Smiling at her, Monaavi began to show her how
to play "Mary Had a Little Lamb." Again after about four or
five repetitions of instruction, Attiya played it on her
own. We were all dumbfounded!
Dad came in without us noticing and when he saw her
playing
shook his head and said, "Well I'll be damned. When did she
learn THAT?"
Mom hugged and rubbed his arm and replied, "about
thirty
seconds ago."
After playing her second rendition of the song, Attiya
stopped and looked up at Monaavi, silently waiting for more
instruction. Monaavi splayed her fingers open, played a
chord and said, "This is a "C" chord, a "C."
Attiya bent her head down to see the position of
Monaavi's
fingers and after a couple of attempts to spread her
fingers, confidently pounded out the chord. Monaavi moved
her fingers and played another saying "This is a "D" Chord, a
"D."
Attiya then seemed to read her teacher's mind because
she
moved her fingers and played another cord, looked up and
Monaavi said, "E."
Attiya went up the scale until she'd finished on a high
"C," one octave higher. God's gift to Attiya was the gift
of music. It was such an emotionally heartwarming joy to
see a child, who has struggled with great difficulty to
learn the subjects of school and to speak; but here, at a
piano, it was as if she intuitively knew what to do and had
found something she naturally excelled at.
Priya returned with a sour-faced Leeya and Mom whispered
something to her. Leeya quietly walked tentatively to her
classmate, and putting her hand on Attiya's shoulder,
leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Attiya smiled
when Leeya walked around the bench and took her seat next
to Monaavi. Monaavi smiled at her, gave her a squeeze and
kissed her on top of her head.
Mom told Pita to bring tea and several minutes later we
entered the study and sat, holding our tea. I poured one
for Pita and said, "Sit, lets listen to the concert."
Monaavi turned in surprise and asked, "What
concert?"
With a wave of her hand, Mom replied, "Why yours of
course.
Play us something."
With a sigh and a smile Monaavi turned and laid her
hands
on the keys. She began to play a soft, melodic piece and it
seemed very nice to hear the house filled with music.
As she played, the girls watched on, Leeya was just
observing as we would but Attiya was totally focused on
Monaavi's fingers. When she'd finished the piece, she
turned and looked shyly at us. We began to clap and she
blushed a beautiful shade of pink. She must have felt the
heat of the blush and out of shyness, covered her mouth and
nose with her veil. Her light brown eyes sparkled with shy
accomplishment as we acknowledged her talent.
Dad remarked, "That was beautiful Monaavi! What's
that piece called?"
Behind her veil-covered face, she replied softly,
"It's
Mozart's Adante to Concerto #21. I didn't do justice to it
but I really love the piece."
"I thought it was beautiful!" Mom replied.
"Thank you," Monaavi replied, "I think I
should get ready
to leave. It's been a very exciting day for all of us."
After Monaavi had left, Attiya now became the teacher
and
was showing Leeya how to play "Chopsticks." Watching the
girls together Mom commented, "Did you see Monaavi blush?
She looked so lovely and mysterious with her face behind
her veil. She was so shy to be in the spotlight, almost as
if she wanted to hide."
Priya commented, "She's a very humble person and
seems to
like to work quietly without drawing a lot of attention to
herself. In some ways, I wish I were more like her. She's a
very religious Muslim woman and very modest."
Agreeing I added, "She's truly a remarkable human
being and
she has such a gift with children."
Because Pita joined the audience and watched the girls
and
Monaavi play, dinner was late. We pitched in and it wasn't
too long before we had to almost pry the girls way from the piano.
Leeya gave in and went to wash up while Attiya stood
motionless and silent in front of the piano and stared at
it. With an almost reverence she slid the bench under the
keys, took a towel and wiped the keys and slowly lowered
the lid. As she turned to leave, she brushed her hand
across the lid and walked towards me.
Watching this unfold, I couldn't help but choke up to
see
that she had truly connected to this assembly of wood,
ivory and steel. Through this instrument, she could speak
volumes. She stopped suddenly when she saw me staring at
her and she looked solemnly at me and gave a slight tender smile.
I squatted down and enfolded her in my arms. Patting her
back I whispered in her ear, "It's yours Sweetheart, all yours."
She put her hands on my shoulders and gave them a gentle
squeeze. I let her go and she walked gingerly to the table.
As you might imagine, dinner was a very happy one and the
topic of conversation was our resident virtuoso Attiya, and
Monaavi's lovely piece, Leeya was no longer jealous, or so it seemed.
Pita was like Cinderella going to the ball: she was
floating on air. Every time she looked at her baby her eyes
started to well up with pride. Her baby was now equal or
better than any child on the face of the earth: and she
knew it! Little Attiya showed glimpses of her internal
feelings, and for her, that was enough- she'd let her
fingers do the talking!
After dinner, while we were cleaning up the dinner
dishes,
the girls returned to their new toy.
Everything finished for the evening, Pita called for
Attiya
to leave. She bolted for the kitchen, stopped, turned and
walked to the study door. She stood with her hand on the
doorframe and gazed at her new friend silently for a moment
then turned to join her mother.
The hour was late, after eight, so I had our driver take
Pita and Attiya home. We retired to the bedroom for evening
prayers after saying our goodnights. We finished prayers
and settled into bed.
Lying in bed, Leeya said, "Attiya's better than me
on the
piano isn't she?"
"Yes Sweetheart she is," I replied,
"You're better at
everything else, why should you be jealous of her being
better on the piano?"
"You're right," she admitted, "I guess I
was being a snot
again wasn't I?"
"Just a little," I said, "But you made it
up to her with a kiss, right?"
"Uh huh," she said, "I'm happy she's
gooder at it than me."
"She's BETTER," I corrected.
"Yeah better," she affirmed.
"How's Faatina?" Leeya asked.
Priya propped herself up on an elbow facing her and
replied, "Faatina's not the same anymore Sister, She's like
a tiny baby now and will need lots of love to make her better."
"What do you mean not the same?" Leeya asked.
Her brain was damaged Leeya," Priya answered,
"She's like a
little baby now. She can't walk or talk and has to wear a nappy
again."
Leeya started to cry and said, "She's gonna die
too, I just know it!"
I hugged my tiny wife to me and comforted her with,
"Sshhh,
she's not gonna die. She just needs to learn all these
things over again."
"You don't understand," she replied tearfully,
"Uncle Amaad
is a bad man. He hates us kids and he'll just let her die, I know it."
Reassuring her I said, "No one's gonna let her die.
Why
would you say such a thing?"
Leeya sat up, wiped her face with the back of her hand
and
replied, "'Cause he's just like my Daddy. I seen him lots
of times look at my cousin Abdul like he wants a boy. Now
that she's sick, her will let her die."
Priya sat up quickly and agreeing said, "Sean, she
may be
right. If Faatina IS like a baby, she'll need to be fed,
bathed and changed like a baby. If he doesn't feed her or
take care of her, she could die of starvation or get sick
with an infection or something."
"Come on you two," I responded, "Do you
think for one
minute that Alpa would let that happen?"
"You never know," Priya cautioned, "You
heard what the
Imaam said today, women don't have very many rights in a
Muslim household."
Disagreeing I said, "I can't believe that it would
ever
come to that. I'm betting that Alpa would take her and
leave before that ever happened."
"You saw what Mahmoud did to Haseeba," Priya
stated, "If a
Muslim woman ever took a man's child out of the home, he'd
beat her to death. To Muslims, the child belongs to the
man: even if it's an unwanted child. The child is the fruit
of his loins, and as such, belongs to him like anything else he owns."
"This is all emotional speculation Priya," I
replied, "No
man hurts his own flesh."
Leeya shot back with, "He does when he's not the
one
feeling the pain. Daddy knew I was getting beat. He just
made you believe different."
She had me there. Mahmoud had indeed deceived me about
what
was really in his heart. Commenting on her observation, I
replied, "You've got a point there, Munchkin. I promise
I'll talk to Salima and Adib. I'll find out what they think
might happen. If we, and I mean me, Mom, Dad, you two and
the whole family, can do anything to help, we'll help, we will, OK?"
Both agreed to trust me to fulfill my promise. We
settled
down and went to sleep.
After our morning ritual and at the breakfast table,
Leeya
asked, "Are you gonna call Uncle Adib and Aunt Salima today?"
Mom, with a confused look asked, "Why, what's
up?"
I didn't want to get into it in front of Pita or Attiya
so
I replied, "We'll talk after breakfast."
That got a rise out of Dad as he flipped the corner of
his
paper and said, "What now, something to do with Haseeba?"
"No Dad," I replied as I swallowed, "It's
about Faatina."
Mom took that as a cue and said, "Don't feel bad
girls, I
have my fears about her also. I don't know why but with the
exception of Adib, I'm beginning not like Muslim men.
There's something fishy about him just like Mahmoud but I
can't put my finger on it yet."
Nodding I replied, "The girls feel the same way.
Anyway,
we'll talk more after breakfast."
With that, Dad folded his paper as he rose from the
table
and said, "Well, I'm off."
He kissed the girls and Mom goodbye and I puckered up
and
he said, "Don't you get enough of that with these two?"
I chuckled and replied, "Yeah but I'm on
quarantine."
Patting me on the shoulder he said, "Well Son, it
looks
like you'll have to do what you did before you got married: abstain."
"What's abstain mean Poppy?" Leeya asked.
Dad replied, "That means he has to do
without."
Leeya quipped, "He can't, he's a letch."
Throwing back a laugh Dad replied, "He's YOUR
letch, not
mine."
With that he left for the office. I turned to the imp
and
said, "Thanks for the dig."
Sticking out her tongue she impishly whined, "Well,
you
called me a harlot."
Mom started giggling and Leeya turned to her and asked,
"What's so funny about that?"
"Oh nothing," Mom said, "Your remark just
reminded me about
living and sharing, that's all."
Priya and I chuckled, knowing what she was thinking.
Leeya
just looked confused and said "Huh?"
Attiya ate quickly without speaking and scooted off the
study. As we were finishing eating, she started playing
"Chopsticks" again and then she started to slowly plunk out
in single notes the melody of Monaavi's performance.
Mom said, "What's she playing, it sounds
familiar?"
I listened closer and said with surprise, "She's
trying to
play the song Monaavi played yesterday. Listen."
Mom tuned her ear to the study and both she and Priya
replied, "It IS!"
Mom chuckled in amazement and said, "Bless her
heart, she's
gonna be playing at Carnegie Hall if she keeps this up!"
Monaavi arrived and heard Attiya's simple attempt at
Mozart
and rushed to her, enfolded her in her arms and rocked her
back and forth. She stood back a moment and said to Attiya,
"That's wonderful Sweetie, I'll show you more today OK?"
Attiya looked at her and nodded then went back to her
practice. After eating, Leeya trundled off to join her
fellow student and I knew I couldn't talk to Salima over
the munchkins playing on the piano so I grabbed a glass of
iced tea and stepped out onto the veranda.
I called Adib's and Sarah answered the phone. After
exchanging salaams I asked if either her mother or father
were home and she replied, "No, Aunt Alpa called. I think
it has something to do with Faatina. Anyway they left."
"OK," I said, "When they get home have
one of them call me
OK? How's Haseeba"
"OK, I'll tell them" she replied,
"Haseeba's fine, she's on the computer."
"Oh, by the way," I injected, "Did you
email me those photos yet?"
"No, forgot" Sarah said, "I'll do it now
before I forget again."
"Thanks, tell Haseeba I said hi" I said,
"Make sure you
tell your parents I want to speak to them, alright?"
"I will, to both" she replied, "Assalamu
aliakom."
"Wa aliakum asslalm," I replied. "Goodbye
Sarah."
"Goodbye Sean." Click.
I set the phone down on the table and said to myself,
"Shit! This has really been a fucked up two weeks!"
For no reason at all, I began to sob. As I covered my
face
with my hands, I had this overwhelming feeling of
helplessness: the same helplessness I felt as I watched
Emmy's life ebb away before my very eyes.
I was trying to grieve (that wasn't true, I pushed it to
the back of my mind, not wanting to deal with it), trying
to protect Haseeba and her dreams and now, there's a three
year-old girl who's reduced to an infant that might
possibly perish, on top of everything else.
I was blocked at every turn. There was no word on Mahmoud,
and upon hearing about Alpa's call for help, I was in the
dark and even more worried, as far as Faatina was concerned.
Priya and Mom came out, saw me crying and asked what was
the matter. I shook my head and wiped my face trying to
toughen up and said, "Nothing… No, it's everything."
They sat, one on either side of me, and Priya said,
"Please
tell me Sean, what's wrong?"
With a heavy sigh I replied, "I feel like I'm
treading
water with my hands tied. I can't do anything about Haseeba
until they find that fucker, and when I called your
parent's house to speak to one of them about Faatina, Sarah
told me that Alpa called and they went to her. I'm dead in
the water. I can't get any information on anything. I just
have that deep sense of helplessness I had watching Emmy die."
Priya stood and moved to sit on my lap, hugging me to
her
breast. Mom stroked my arm and said, "Son, you're trying to
do everything on your own and you're letting your emotions
get the best of you."
"First off," she continued, "It's true:
you can't do much
about Haseeba until they find Mahmoud. You just have to be
patient and let the investigator do what he does best. I
know things may not be going as fast as you'd like, but
sometimes you just have to rely on others."
Cocking her head and raising an eyebrow, Mom said,
"As far
as Faatina is concerned, don't you think Adib and Salima
know the situation a little better than you and are fully
capable of doing what's right? You need to trust the people
that are close to you. You're not the only person who has
morals and cares about others, give your family a little credit."
Priya agreed and added, "Mom's right. You should
feel
relieved that Aunt Alpa was able to call Momma and Poppa to
come and help her. Momma knows Uncle Amaad better than we
do, she'll figure something out."
Sighing, I replied, "I don't know, it just seems
like
things are turning to shit."
Mom reached across the table and slapped me across the face.
She stood and said, "Now you're acting like a snot-nosed
brat having a pity party. The miracle we saw yesterday as
we watched Attiya play the piano, was THAT shit? Or the joy
Pita felt at seeing her daughter be the BEST in the room
and excel at something, boy, that's a REAL pile of shit
wasn't it? And I guess you didn't see the sparkle in
Monaavi's eyes: she's as happy as the children to play
again, that must have been shit also"
Pacing back and forth in front of me she turned and
said,
"Look Son, The joys of this sad and painful world come in
tiny victories. Sadly, many times we rush through life and
don't even recognize their significance. We look to the big
accomplishments, to climb high mountains and point, throw
out our chests and say to the world, "Hey look at this, see
what I've done?" You need to realize that the best
opportunities in life are usually the smallest, speak
softly and are easily recognized once they've been lost.
What you did for that little girl in there is monumental!
By providing her with that piano, you've unlocked her inner
self to share what's in her heart to the world through
music. Don't you realize that she may make progress by
leaps and bounds in ALL areas simply through her music, and
her autism could possibly be overcome?"
Mom sat again as she got her second wind and went on
with,
"You are so blind sometimes, Sean. Imagine what it's like
for Attiya. Inside her head, she's as normal and possibly
as smart as you but because of some fluky gene, it's locked
away, screaming to get out. And what of Faatina? She's got
to start her whole life over and relearn three years of
skills and knowledge. Pick and choose your battles, Son.
Fight the one's worth fighting, the ones that mean
something in people's lives, and fuck the rest of it
because THAT'S what's all shit!"
With that, she stood and left.
Priya kissed me on the cheek and said, "I guess she
told
you, didn't she?"
Then SHE got up and left.
Shaking my head, I realized that I WAS wallowing in
self-
pity. Time and time again my mother showed me her wisdom
and an unbelievable ability to know what matters most in
life. It's as if she makes it a point to stop along the way
every day and see those seemingly insignificant victories
in life and draw her strength. That's probably why she's so
strong. Dad did say she could turn stone into gold. I was
beginning to believe him.
I said a prayer of thanks to God for my mother, and for
help and guidance in meeting the challenges that face me. I
still had that twinge of helplessness but now I knew it was
because of my own lack of maturity. There was nothing I
could have done for Emmy, no one could, but now I just have
to try and make a difference in the lives of those that are
close to me.
Continued in Chapter 65…
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