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Child Brides of India
By c. Stanton Leman
Chapter 12: Bumps in the road (Mg, rom, cons, ws)
Priya and I awoke at seven thirty. I was getting into
the
shower when Priya came and stood in front of me. After the
blissful conclusion to last night, I'd forgotten about
Priya's submission. She asked in a low voice, "May I please
pee for you?"
I said, "Yes you may."
She sat on the toilet with her legs splayed and opened
her
pussy for my disposal. I knelt and placed my hand on her
clit and began to stimulate her. Her eyes were glued on me
and she was waiting for my signal before releasing her
bladder. I kept rubbing her clitty and her legs began to
quiver so I said, "Pee for me Priya, give me your flow."
She squeaked a little when she bore down, and then began
to
pee. She shuddered and had a mini orgasm and sputtered her
finish. I brought my fingers up to my mouth and tasted her.
Priya blushed and said, "Now you."
I rose and started my stream between her legs as she
looked
on, holding her pussy lips open. I directed my stream up to
her clitty and washed it along with her fingers and
finished. Still holding my dick in hand, Priya leaned over
and sucked in my cock, swirling her tongue over the head
before releasing me. Looking into my eyes, she brought her
fingers to her mouth and sucked them in. She released her
fingers with a slurp, smiled and said, "I am such a nasty
little girl!"
I smiled down at her and said, "Yes, but you're my
nasty
little girl, aren't you?"
Blushingly, she looked up at me and said, "Always
and
forever."
Laughing, I said, "Let's take a shower."
We showered, dressed and said morning prayers, and then
went downstairs for breakfast. Mom and Dad were already
seated. We said our good mornings as we sat to eat. Dad
looked up from his paper and asked me, "You're going to the
embassy this morning aren't you? Here's Adib's man in
Washington's name, address and phone number."
Taking it, I folded it and put it in my pocket and said,
"Thanks."
He then said, "I think it best you go alone this
time,
don't you?"
I told him that was the plan. I didn't want to ruffle
any
feathers unnecessarily, and he replied, "Good."
Mom, not wanting Priya to feel left out said, "WE
figured
that Sean would probably spend most of the day waiting to
be seen, so Priya and I are going to go out and spend some
of our husband's money."
Dad glanced over the paper and said, "Fine. Just
don't you
go teaching this girl any bad habits."
Mom scooted in her chair like a giddy schoolgirl and
jokingly said, "The Lord never gives you more than you can
bear."
Dad scoffed back, "The Lord I can bear, your spending
is
another matter."
Mom, wanting the last word, said, "Don't be such an
old
fuddy duddy. If I didn't spend it, what reason would you
have to work?"
Dad, knowing he was fighting a loosing battle, just
smiled
and shook his head behind the paper. Finishing breakfast
with Mom winning the war of the credit cards, Dad left for
work. I made sure I had the necessary documents and left
for the embassy, leaving the two women to venture out and
put a dent in their husband's wallets.
I arrived at the American consulate at about ten thirty,
and after sitting for an hour, I mentally kicked myself in
the ass to not anticipating this. What's that they say
about the five 'P's" of business: Proper Preparation
Prevents Poor Performance? I should have had Adib cut
through the red tape, or even done something really stupid
like actually scheduling an appointment. So much for a 149
IQ! I'd been too busy thinking of demons, and a little dark
skinned princess with a pee fetish instead of taking care
of business. Oh well, I was here for the duration, so I
thought I'd make the best of it and research Mohammad. I
fired up my laptop and wireless card and began.
In my short time on the Internet, I learned some
disturbing
facts. Mohammad was a man with a voracious sexual appetite
and a predilection towards a child. This is recounted in
writings saying:
"The intervals between prayers are used for quick
stands "I
used to wash the traces of Janaba (semen) from the clothes
of the Prophet and he used to go for prayers while traces
of water were still on it."
Although, by his preaching, he allowed male followers
only
four wives, the general scholarly consensus is that he had
nine wives and several concubines. His word being law
provided him with a convenient exemption to this rule.
It is recorded in Islamic texts that Mohammad started
having fantasies about his true love Aisha (his third wife)
when she was only four or five years old, stating he twice
saw himself in union with her in dreams. He reckoned that
"If this is from Allah, then it must happen."
Mohammad asked Aisha's father, Mohammad's closest friend
and ally, for her hand when she was six. Aisha's father
thought this improper and asked Mohammad "I am your
brother," but Mohammad quickly dismissed his and told him
of his visions from Allah. Abu Bakr acquiesced and gave her
hand.
Aisha was clearly a child both emotionally and
psychologically because she still was allowed to play with
her toys and dolls, which was forbidden for pubescent girls
eligible for marriage. Here is a narration in an Islamic
text that recounts, in Aisha's words, her marriage to
Mohammad:
"The prophet engaged me when I was a girl of six.
We
went to Medina and stayed at the home of Harith Kharzraj.
Then I got ill and my hair fell down. Later on my hair grew
(again) and my mother, Um Ruman, came to me while I was
playing in a swing with some of my girl friends. She
called me, and I went to her, not knowing what she wanted
to do to me. She caught me by the hand and made me stand at
the door of the house. I was breathless then, and when my
breathing became all right, she took some water and rubbed
my face and head with it. Then she took me into the house.
There in the house I saw some Ansari women who said, "Best
wishes and Allah's blessing and a good luck." Then she
entrusted me to them and they prepared me (for the
marriage). Unexpectedly Allah's messenger came to me in the
forenoon and my mother handed me over to him, and at that
time I was a girl of nine years of age."
In another text, Aisha is said to have narrated:
"Then the men and women got up and left. The
Messenger of
God consummated his marriage with me in my house when I was
nine years old. Neither a camel nor a sheep was slaughtered
on behalf of me…"
It is recorded that the actual ceremony was simply
sharing
a bowl of milk in front of witnesses. Most scholars believe
that although actually married at six, Aisha contracted a
disease and all her hair fell out. Mohammad consummated
their marriage when her hair had grown back. He consummated
their marriage when she was 9 and he was 53. Aisha was the
only child bride Mohammad took, and also the only virgin
wife he had. Aisha was 18 when Mohammad died at 62.
During the course of my research, I learned that
Mohammad
would get "visions" from Allah that conveniently provided
reasons and allowances to contradict his own teachings with
regards to his wives and concubines. Mohammad's
relationship with Aisha, although not openly admitted by
Islamic scholars, was definitely pedophilic in nature.
The most disturbing fact I ran across during all of
this,
was a quotation from Khomeini's book, "Tahrirolvasyleh",
fourth volume, Darol Elm, Gom, Iran, 1990:
"A man can have sexual pleasure from a child as
young as a
baby. However he should not penetrate her, but sodomising
the child is OK. If the man penetrates and damages the
child then he should be responsible for her subsistence all
her life.
This girl, however, does not count as one of his four
permanent wives. The man will not be eligible to marry the
girl's sister. [...]
It is better for a girl to marry in such a time when she
would begin menstruation at her husband's house rather than
her father's home. Any father marrying his daughter so
young will have a permanent place in heaven."
To add insult to injury, Mohammad even made provisions
that
allowed marriage to a child so young, that she has no
concept whatsoever of marriage and Radhidah (a mature
sensibility towards conduct in marriage). When Mohammad was
asked about a virgin's (a very young child's) inability to
express consent, he replied, "She gives consent by keeping
silent." What ever happened to the term "There are no
compulsion in matters of religion?"
That creaking door opened, and my demon whispered in my
ear, "Why fight it, see, it's legal!" In my desire to find
answers to quell the beast, I was being fed infected fodder
by the demon I wished to rid myself of. It was as if I was
being demonically led down that spiraling staircase of
depravity of my own volition.
They say that a single grain of sand added to a glass of
pure water forever renders it impure. I had unknowingly
tainted my pure vision of Islam, as I had tainted Priya's
desire to please me by introducing an insidious,
rationalized "reason" to lie to my moral psyche.
I felt sick.
Immediately, a verse from the Bible in Paul's First
Corinthians, from my Baptist upbringing came to mind: "All
things are lawful for me, but not all things are
expedient." I closed that creaky door again by telling the
beast, "Just because it's legal doesn't make it right."
I closed my laptop, having learned what I had sought. It
was now one thirty pm and I was then called into the
consul's office.
Sitting behind a desk, he rose and introduced himself as
Paul Whitford, Assistant Secretary Consul for Visa Affairs.
I introduced myself and he motioned for me to sit as he
said, "what can I do for you today?"
I explained that I was an American businessman here in
India to take over control of my father's operations, and
that I'd gotten married to an Indian national. I went on to
tell him I needed to apply for my new wife's spousal visa,
green card, work permit and a permit for her to travel back
and forth to the US. I then gave him the information on
John Slocolm, Adib's contact at the state department.
Looking at the name on the card, Paul said, "Boy!
That's a
long grocery list! How long have you been here?"
I chuckled and said, "About a month and a
half."
"Jesus Christ!" he said as he sat back in his chair, "You
sure didn't waste any time, did you?"
I said, "Well, I didn't plan on it, but it was a
'love at
first sight' kind of thing."
Reaching across the desk he asked, "Let me see your
passport, marriage certificate and any other papers you
have with you."
I handed him my passport, our prenup and a copy of our
Muslim and governmental marriage certificates.
Looking through everything, he looked up and said,
"Adib
Haaseem… I think I know him."
I replied, "You probably do, he's an Indian
governmental
official working in the Office for Foreign Business
Affairs."
"That's right," he said, "I knew I
recognized that name.
Good man, and you married his daughter?"
"Yes," I replied, " I met Priya right
after arriving when
my Dad invited Adib's family over for dinner."
As I was speaking, Paul was looking over the documents,
and
without looking up said, "Hmm, Priya. Pretty name, do you
know what it means?"
I felt like a fool and said, "Surprisingly, no, no
I
don't."
He looked up, smiled and said, "Beloved. It means
beloved."
Paul studied my paperwork for another moment, and said
in a
businesslike manner, "I see there's a guardian's consent to
marry form attached to the marriage license. She's not
eighteen? How old is she?"
Swallowing, I paused for a moment knowing I had to 'face
the music' so to speak and replied, "No, she's not
eighteen, she'll turn twelve in January."
Leaning forward on his desk and thrusting his chin
forward
while in open-eyed disbelief, blurted out, "She's eleven
years old?"
Sitting back in his chair shaking his head, he recovered
and said, "How in the hell did you get a marriage license?
No, don't tell me; her father's contacts in the government.
You're," looking at my passport, "eighteen? Well, at least
you're not some old pedophile.
Do you have any idea how close you came to being
prosecuted
in the US for child sexual abuse?" Holding up the marriage
license with the governmental seal on it, he stated, "It's
the thickness of the paper of this marriage license!
Without this piece of paper, you could be imprisoned here
in India, and in the US for fifty years! What the hell were
you thinking?"
I went on to explain to Paul the whole story and how
Priya,
although only eleven, almost twelve, was very mature and
advanced academically, socially and emotionally for her
age. She takes marriage very seriously and has a mature
perspective on what marriage entails.
After listening to my explanation, he then turned to the
prenup, and after perusing through it said, "Boy, she's
sure set for life! I've got a thirteen year old at home…
want another wife? No, no, I'm sorry, that wasn't called
for and I apologize."
"That's alright, Paul," I calmly replied,
"I expected to
take some heat for this, but if you met her, you'd see
she's not like any eleven year old you'll ever meet."
Shaking his head he stated, "Even with John
Slocomb's help,
she'll have to pass, what I think, will be a grueling
interview in order to obtain a visa. If she gets the visa,
the rest is all downhill from there.
You know that today is only the beginning. I suspect
that
when INS back in the states starts to process her paperwork
and sees her age, they'll want her to appear here for an
intermediate interview with a child psychologist present to
determine a couple of things: first, should you be
prosecuted: marriage license or not. Second, if she's as
mature as you say, and she does have an adult perspective
on the decisions she's made, do the two of you have a real,
loving marriage? I say this because you've committed
yourself to pay this girl 10 million US dollars: is there a
motive to extract both a green card and wealth from you? As
far as the US government is concerned, she can steal you
blind, but that doesn't mean she'll get to spend it in the
US. I'm not saying she is, I'm just telling you how I see
it from an immigration point of view.
If she's not as adroit as you say, it could be a very
messy
experience for her. I, or whoever conducts the interview
will treat her as an adult hostile foreigner. She'll have
to prove to the panel that she's mature and sincere. Do you
clearly understand what I've said so far?"
"Yes sir, I do, " I simply replied.
Leaning over, he looked me right in the eye and said,
"Can
she handle it?"
"Yes." I categorically stated meeting his
eyes.
"OK then," he began again, "You'll have
to fill out
applications for the visa, green card, work permit and
travel permit, along with all the biographical data on both
of your families and return them to me. I will personally
send everything to Slocomb. In fact, I think I'll call him
and get the state department's tilt on how to proceed,
alright?"'
"Yes sir," I replied.
Paul then called his secretary to bring him all the
required forms and instructions. He opened his appointment
book and said, "I'm making an appointment for next Monday,
a week from today at ten am. Bring all the completed
paperwork along with a certified check for the fees with
you, but don't bring your wife just yet. By next week, I'll
have spoken to Slocomb about where we go from here,
understand?"
"Yes sir, I'll be here with everything
completed."
Paul looked calmly at me and said, "Sean, I'm a perpetual
optimistic, and I'd like to see the two of you make it. Do
you know that 94% of all marriages to foreign nationals end
in divorce within two years? And THAT is by couples of
consenting age! The language differences, culture shock,
and hell, even your tastes in food place stresses on a
marriage most folks don't have to deal with. Unfortunately,
I do want to warn you that even though the US is your
country, the government can be a faceless, cold and
sometimes ruthless, entity. The government doesn't care
about how you feel about each other when considering these
matters. Well, I guess I've done all I can for you today
including the lecture, free of charge of course."
He stuck out his hand and I took it. We shook hands and
said our goodbye until next week, and I left.
I headed for home with my mind in overload and a splitting
headache. I was thinking about how the proverbial shit was
going to hit the fan (especially with Dad) when I sat down
with everyone tonight and explained what took place today.
My thoughts turned to Priya. She's never seen Dad when he
blows off steam, and I wondered how she'd take it knowing
she was a part of why he would be ranting.
Just then, my cell phone rang. I looked at the caller ID
and it was Priya. Pressing the button to talk I answered,
"Hello, princess, how's the shopping? Break the bank yet?"
Giggling she said, "No, Mom and I really didn't
spend much,
just a lot of window shopping."
"That's good to hear, at least my wallet likes
it," I
joking replied.
She kept it light, but in a more serious tone said,
"You
should trust me more, Sean. Your money is my money too. One
of the duties of a good Muslim wife is to guard her
husband's wealth."
While remembering my meeting with Paul, I lovingly said,
"You are an excellent wife, Priya. I love you so much!"
Giggling, she replied, "And I love you more!"
I then asked her, "Was there something specific you
wanted,
or did you just call to tell me you were being a good
wife?"
Priya's tone changed to one of submissiveness and said,
"Yes Sean, there is. May I have permission to go to the
bathroom?"
I started to heave into the phone and felt like I had to
vomit. I quickly said, "Yes go. I think Dad's on the other
line, gotta go. Love ya."
She gave me a kiss over the phone and said, "Love
ya more!
Bye." And hung up
I told the driver to stop the car. As soon as we were
almost stopped, I opened the car door and immediately began
to throw up, leaning out of the door. Once I'd stopped dry
heaving and got myself under control, I wiped my face with
a disposable towelette and threw it out the window. To
myself I scathingly said, "Fuck you demon, I don't want
control of my wife's bowels!" I sat in a stupor the rest of
the way home.
I got home about four thirty and went upstairs to lie
down.
I had a splitting headache and my entire body ached from
the stress of the day as I tried to blank my mind and fall
to sleep. I awoke to Priya's kiss and she gasped, "My God!
You're soaked in sweat, are you alright?"
I suddenly felt chilled, and replied, "Yeah, I was
just
having a nightmare."
Concerned, she began to unbutton my shirt and said,
"Quick,
take a hot shower. Do you want me to bathe you?"
"Just a minute," I said straightly to her,
"There's
something I've got to say. If you want to continue to play
pee games, that's alright with me and I get pleasure from
it also, but from now on, you go to the bathroom whenever
the need arises: I don't want control over you that way, it
makes me sick! It's abusive, and I won't do that to you!
Understand?"
Priya looked at me with a tear in her eye and smiled.
She
swallowed and said, "I understand, and I feel very ashamed
and sorry that I went so far. You accept my need and you're
a good husband for protecting me by not abusing me. I love
you so much Sean! Can you forgive me?"
"There's nothing to forgive," I replied,
"If anyone should
ask for forgiveness, it's me. I shouldn't have tried to
dominate you and taken advantage of your weakness, I'm the
one who's ashamed and sorry. Please forgive me Priya."
"You're forgiven with all my love."
Yes!!! I had, for the first time, attained victory over
that fucking beast! At least for now, I had locked the
door!
We hugged and kissed and got undressed to shower. Priya
put
her hair in a shower cap, and we had a nice, warm and
loving shower together. While we were dressing, I warned
Priya of my father's propensity to vulgarity when
confronted with distressing news and gave her a heads up on
my earlier meeting. She said she understood, and wouldn't
take it personally.
We dressed and said evening prayers before heading
downstairs to dinner… and the ensuing discussion
afterwards.
The maid had no sooner finished serving dinner when Dad
asked me about my meeting at the consulate. I gave him the
brief synopsis (minus the details), told him I got all the
necessary forms and had a meeting next Monday.
Mom sensed, I guess by Priya's apprehensive expressions,
that I'd rather talk in more detail later and she said,
"Let's discuss this more after dinner over tea."
Trying to lighten things up, and get my father's goat at
the same time, she followed with, "Johnnnnn? Priya and I
went a little overboard today and bought a lot of nice
goodies."
Dad looked at me and said, "Why doesn't anyone ever
listen
to me any more? I tell your mother to take it easy on the
credit cards, and I also told her not to teach your wife
any bad habits. What do you think? Should we give them both
a good old fashioned bare assed spanking?"
Laughing I replied, "I don't know about you, but
mine might
be little, but she's feisty. She might have me sucking her
toes, and then I'll be the one getting the bare assed
spanking!"
Mom and Dad lost it! Mom got up from the table to run to
the bathroom and Dad just slid down his chair crying and
holding his sides. Priya looked around at everyone puzzled
and then became pissed: she wanted answers.
As soon as we'd recovered and Mom resumed her seat,
Priya
stood up, threw her napkin on the table and looking around
at all of us snorting out, "Alright! That's it! What's so
funny about all this talk of Sean sucking my toes and
everyone looking at me? I want to know… NOW!"
Dad, while still trying to regain control said, "Oh
alright, Priya. Calm yourself and sit down and I'll tell
you."
Priya sat and looked at Dad, waiting for an explanation.
Dad then began to explain the whole story that took place
on the night of her henna party here with the men, and
Mahmoud's joking with me about her skin color. Upon hearing
the complete story, she first looked a little hurt, but
then after it sunk in a moment, she laughed and said, "That
was a rather nice little tale; but mark my words, I will
have the last laugh over my loving husband and favorite
uncle. Just remember darling, 152." Priya looked at me with
a deliciously devilish smile and then began to eat. Mom
just smiled, winked at her and did the same.
Dad said, "152? What's that mean?"
I looked at Dad and said, "Her IQ."
Dad gave a mock frown and said, "Holy shit Sean. I
do
believe that you'll be the one getting that spanking."
We finished eating and every now and then, Priya would
chuckle. I asked her "What's so funny?"
She looked at all of us and said, "It IS a funny
story."
I told her, "I hope you're not offended, Mahmoud
was only
playing a harmless joke on me." Mom and Dad were both
looking on, waiting for her response. She looked at all of
us and then back at me with a straight face and said, "No,
I'm not offended. In fact, I like the idea of turning you
into a toe sucking pussy!" She giggled and blushed.
Everyone laughed and Mom said, "That's right
daughter 'o
mine, don't get mad, get even!"
With that, we finished dinner and moved to the living
room
for tea, and another awkward conversation. Dad poured
himself a brandy while Priya, serving the rest of us tea
when Dad opened with, "Well son, how about the details and
what did they say?"
I started off by saying that I should have made an
appointment, because I waited until one thirty to be seen.
I told them that I spoke with Paul Whitford, what his
position was, and that he was personally going to handle
our case. I showed them all the forms that needed to be
filled out by next Monday including the biographical data
they wanted.
Dad knew I was stalling and said, "This is all fine
and
dandy, but what did he say when he found out Priya's age?"
Mom and Priya's heads were bobbing back and forth
looking
at either Dad or I. Now, all eyes were on me. Knowing what
was to come, I took a deep breath and began to relate
exactly what he'd said. I told them that Priya may be
required to have an additional interview with a child
psychologist present and that if she is suspected of being
abused, I might still be liable to prosecution in the US. I
also made the point of Paul's admonition about Priya's
state of mind, psychologically and emotionally, and that it
would not be a pleasant experience. I finished by telling
them that Paul was going to contact Adib's man in
Washington to see about the best way to proceed.
Mom and Dad looked at Priya, and she sternly stated,
"I can
handle anything they give me. I have committed no crime and
neither has Sean. Allah has willed it, and it shall come to
pass."
Dad looked at mom, then me and then at Priya. We all
could
see his face get red and the blood vessels in his neck
start to show, and Priya said, "Go ahead, Sean's already
warned me."
Then he started. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I was afraid of
this
shit! Didn't I tell you?" Looking at Priya, he started
shaking his finger at her saying, "You'll be lucky if your
father doesn't loose his job and go to prison over this! I
knew this was going to bite us in the ass. Shit! Even with
the license, they could still prosecute you? Did he keep
your passport?"
"No," I replied, "Paul said that it all
hinges on Priya's
performance and whether or not they feel she's been
coerced, or she's been abused and also is mentally mature
enough to make the choices she's made. They also want to
know, because of the prenup, whether she's a gold digger
looking for wealth and a green card."
"Well, at least he's not going to come for you in
the
middle of the night. This shit is going to give me a heart
attack." Looking at Priya, he calmly said, "Priya, I'm not
mad at you, and I don't believe that you've done anything
wrong or I wouldn't have allowed Sean to marry you, and I
sure in hell wouldn't let my son abuse you. It's just that
your age can really mess things up - for all of us, both of
our families. I love you Priya, and you're the daughter
I've never had, but I'm afraid for Sean and I'm afraid for
your father. They won't touch you, but worst-case scenario,
they could turn Sean over to the Indian authorities and
prosecute him, take you away from your family, and send
your father to prison."
"Don't worry, Father," Priya said, "As I
said, Allah has
willed it, and it will come to pass."
Shaking his head, Dad uttered, "I just can't take
much more
of this shit." With that, he said, "I need to think," and
went to the study with the bottle of brandy and his glass.
Mom, taking Priya's hands in hers said to her, "Will
you be
alright? Can you do this?"
Priya smiled at Mom and replied, "Mom please, have
faith in
me. There's nothing to fear, all I have to do is tell the
truth. Armed with that, how can they deny me?"
Mom looked down and said, "I'm just worried about
you.
These people can be such bastards sometimes."
Priya patted Mom's knee and said, "I have the
strength of
my convictions, my husband's love, and the strength of two
families to support me. This is what marriage is all about,
facing life together and seeing things through with
courage."
I just looked at her and said softly, "I love you
Priya."
She smiled and said, "And I love you more."
Mom started crying, then quickly composed herself
saying,
"Give me the papers, and I'll start on the family
information tomorrow."
Handing her the forms, I asked her, "Will you be
alright?"
She smiled at both of us and said, "Taking courage
from my
eleven year old daughter-n-law, I'm fine. You go on up to
bed, I'd like to talk to Priya a minute, OK?
"Fine Mom," I replied, and kissing her on the
cheek I said,
"Don't forget to make two blank copies of the forms
in case
you make a mistake."
"I won't, Son," she replied. I then left for
bed, leaving
Priya and Mom to talk.
I was lying in bed when Priya came upstairs. She went to
the bathroom and peed, washed up and jumped into bed,
snuggling up to me. She was draped over my right side with
her leg over my thigh. She kissed my right breast and
giggling said, "Isn't it strange?"
Stroking the side of her face, I asked, "What's
strange?"
Looking up at me, she swished her hair over her shoulder
and said, "Isn't it strange how we can grow up, sleeping
alone and feeling all snug, but now, sleeping next to your
lover brings a blissful comfort and peace? I can't imagine
ever sleeping without being wrapped in your arms."
I started to cry and said to her, "I love you so
much,
Priya. Please, don't ever leave me, my beloved."
She kissed me and replied, "I am yours; now and
forever. I
will never leave you. Whether together or apart, I am
yours."
I said, "Your name suits you."
"Why's that," she asked.
I found out today what your name means. It means
beloved."
"I told you Allah ordained it," she replied.
"Sleep, my beloved, sleep. Let's hold each other
and thank
Him for this wondrous love."
"All praise and peace be upon Him," she softly
said.
As I lay there holding my child bride, feeling her
breath
slow down and deepen on my chest as she fell away to sleep,
I pondered the events of the last few days. I thought to
myself, "I've learned more about life, love… myself, and
those I love in the past few days, than I have in my entire
life. Isn't it strange and funny, in an ironic sort of way,
how we all walk through life, each of us confronting and
struggling with the demons no one else sees and trying to
find happiness and peace of mind?"
I had won a battle in the war with my demon today, and I
thanked Allah for my victory. Even if but for a little
while, I had locked him away to gain strength to fight
another day, yes another day. I knew that we would do
battle again… another day.
Continued in Chapter 13…
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