|
Child Brides of India
By C. Stanton Leman
Chapter 7: Courtship (slow, rom, Mg)
After my morning ritual, I ended my morning prayers
with the supplication given me by the Imam if I was
contemplating marriage:
"O Allah! I intend to marry. Therefore destine for
me
the most chaste of women and one who would, for my
sake, guard herself and my property. Who shall be most
auspicious for increase in sustenance and bounties.
Then from her womb bestow a pure child who would be my
sweet reminiscence in my life and after my death."
The only word I changed in my supplication was the
word son. I felt that a child, of either sex, would be
my sweet remembrance in life.
I arrived at breakfast to smiles, and teasing looks,
with my mom being the usual agitator, saying things
like, "Sean's gotta girlfriend, dah-dah-dee-dah-dah,"
giggling all the while.
Dad, only slightly amused, just shook his head, and
continued reading the paper while he ate.
Finished with breakfast, Dad headed off to the office
and I was about to leave also when Mom said, "Sean,
all kidding aside, don't rush things, and be
understanding of her and her family, OK?"
"I will Mom. I'm kinda nervous, like the first day
of
high school. Silly isn't it?"
"No son, it isn't. Just like then, I assure you
that
you'll be just fine. Now go! You're keeping a
beautiful girl waiting! Bye! Love you"
"Bye Mom, love you too." With that I left for
Priya's
home.
I arrived at Priya's a little before ten. They lived
in a housing complex supplied to government workers.
It wasn't anything like our big home, kind of like an
American townhouse: neat, simple, but basic. I rang
the bell, and Salima answered the door and invited me
in. We exchanged the obligatory Muslim greeting, and
Salima directed me to the dining room, where Priya was
sitting at the table. Their home was comfortable and
clean, but spartan.
We gave each other the salaam greetings and sat.
Salima told me that Sarah had gone to her grandmothers
for the week, and then said she'd get us some tea and
stepped to the kitchen. Where we were seated at the
table, we were in plain view of her mother while she
worked.
Priya sat with her head slightly bowed, but said
nothing. I silently gulped, thinking "OK chicken, I
think she wants you to start talking." So I sat up in
my chair and said, "So," (great start asshole!),
"You'll have to excuse me, but I'm a little nervous."
She said, "But why? I won't bite you… yet,"
giggling
at the end.
"Whoa!" I thought, "I think I'm gonna be
a henpecked
husband!" That got me moving, so I said to her, "I
don't mind, just be gentle with me, promise?"
She replied, "I'm sorry for being so forward. I'm
nervous too, and it just slipped out. I really meant
nothing by it. Sometimes I try to overcompensate for
my insecurities."
"Forget it. I do too. As for insecurities, after
seeing you on several occasions, I haven't noticed any
insecurity problems. In fact, I'm beginning to think
you are more adept and secure than I am."
"Oh, but you're wrong! I'm very shy and insecure
inside, its just that all my life I have had to be
tough on the outside to hide my pain and fears to keep
from having more taunts heaped upon me."
Looking down, she continued, "Ever since I was a
little girl, and went outside to play with other kids,
I have been teased because of the color of my skin,
and it continues until today. I've had to work harder,
and try my best to prove to those around me that I'm
smarter, quicker, and more assertive to convince
others I'm a good and decent person despite being
dark.
One of the reasons my heart is filled with joy and
love for you is that you see right into my soul. My
soul is the real me. Inside, there is only a girl with
love to give. Sean, please don't be displeased with me
for speaking so openly from the heart, but that's how
I feel, and it feels I'm bursting out and can be
totally free with you without shame."
I looked at her and said, "I know your skin color
has
been your greatest burden. I'm overjoyed that you know
I love you anyway, But let's put this issue to rest
and look forward. I don't ever want you to feel again
that your color affects how I feel about you. In fact,
I think your skin color is beautiful. I can't imagine
you being any other way. Besides, I simply adore your
'chocolate blushes'!"
(A beautiful chocolate blush!)
Moving on to lighter fare, we talked about school, our
perceptions and experiences academically. I learned
that we had pretty much the same issues and
insecurities, particularly that having to compete and
interact with peers much older than ourselves.
I was surprised to find out that her family had only
one old computer that the girls used for homework, and
I couldn't believe that it ran on Windows '98! I vowed
to correct this, and soon.
We were on a roll, joking and laughing about similar
incidents in our academic life until I asked her about
her mental aptitude. I asked her if she knew what her
IQ was, and she halted, and then softly said, "Does it
matter?"
Puzzled, I replied, "It's not a big deal, I was
just
curious, that's all. Mine is 142."
She looked down submissively, and said, "Mine's
kinda
higher."
"145?"
"Higher"
"149???"
Almost audibly, she softly said, "A little
higher."
"151????"
"152. Oh Sean, please don't hate me!"
I laughed, which made her look at me puzzled when she
said, "Why is that so funny?"
Still laughing, I said, "I'm wondering what it'll
be
like trying to keep up with you for a lifetime!" (I
KNOW I'll be henpecked!)
Yes! Another chocolate blush!
Then she said, "You really don't mind?"
"Why should I mind? My mom always said 'Behind
every
successful man is a smart woman telling him what to
do!'"
With that, Priya, and even Salima, burst out laughing;
she'd been eavesdropping the whole time!
The three of us ate lunch and Salima told me a lot
about Priya's childhood, how she's always been very
sensitive and empathetic towards other, and being so
sensitive, is the reason she blushes so much.
I saw pictures of her as a baby and growing up. With
each new detail I learned about her, my feelings for
deepened.
I told Priya, with her mother present, that I also
would like to see her get her degree. I told her that
I would put it in our prenuptial agreement, which
would basically be her dower from me to her, that we
would also forgo having children until she had
completed school. She had tears of happiness when I'd
promised her this.
She was embarrassed a little when Salima told her that
she'd made an appointment with her doctor on Saturday,
three days hence, to have Priya put on birth control
immediately so that she's be safe in time for the
wedding.
It was getting close to dinnertime, and I thought the
last topic of discussion was enough for the day, so I
asked Salima if she and Priya would like to come over
to my home tomorrow at about the same time, and they
agreed.
The rest of the evening went pretty quietly, at dinner
and afterwards. I asked my mom about tomorrow, and she
was delighted, so I bowed out for the night, said my
prayers and supplications and went to bed. Sleep came
quickly and very peacefully.
Priya and Salima arrived at ten am with the usual
customary greetings and we headed to the veranda to
talk. My mom pulled out a couple of family albums she
carries abroad with her. She said it was like carrying
a piece of home wherever she went.
So now, it was Priya's turn to see photos of me
growing up, and to my embarrassment, Mom (being the
stinker she is) showed a blushing Priya my first nude
photo (at two moths old).
I kinda got 'weeded out' of the conversation when it
turned to female chat about children and upbringing,
ways to organize a home and such. I just sat there
taking it all in, with an occasional reply when called
to do so. Mom, again poking fun at the men folk said,
"Men are harder to train than the children; sometimes
they don't play well with others, throw tantrums, and
they require a lot more nose wiping and cuddles."
Leave it to Mom…
The next day was Friday, and our holy day of prayer,
so Priya and I didn't meet.
On Saturday, Priya had her doctor's appointment. We'd
made arrangements for me to come over on Sunday, so I
went shopping. I'd earlier called our company's
computer supplier and told him what I needed. I bought
a high-end desktop with a 22" flat monitor, a
multifunction printer, a compact computer desk, and
two super fast laptops with high speed wireless cards:
one for Priya and one for Sarah to use for and at
school. All the computers were fully loaded.
I needed a cell phone; so again, I went to our
company's supplier and got Priya and I new cell phones
with all the bells and whistles. I felt like a little
kid in a candy store: Sunday would be a 'Muslim
Christmas!'
When I arrived at Priya's about ten am, Adib answered
the door. After our greeting, I asked him to help me
carry in some boxes. He quizzically helped with the
booty, asking "What's all this?"
After greeting Priya and her mother, I turned to Adib
motioning everyone to look, "This, is the American
custom of Christmas—in-June!"
I asked Salima to tear the paper covering off the
boxes, and the room filled with gasps and cheers. I
then handed Priya her two gifts to unwrap. When she
saw the picture of a cell phone on the box she
"EEEEKKK'ed" and fumbled, trying to open the box.
"I'll show you how to use it in a minute," I
told her,
"Open the other package." She tore the paper away like
a 5 year-old on Christmas day! When she realized it
was a laptop, without thinking she leapt to her feet
and wrapped her arms around my neck in a strangling
hug. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around her. She
was so small, my arms went completely around her, and
I had a tiny, soft breast in each hand. Feeling a
twitch in my loins, I quickly started to firm. I
caught my self, and lowered my arms to her waist, just
reveling in holding my little pixie,
Adib smiled, then with an "Ahem," Priya
realized what
she'd unconsciously done, and there it was; a nice,
deep, 'chocolate blush!'
I told Adib that I'd have an IT guy from the company
over to do any necessary wiring, and that I'd make
sure I got him a high speed connection also. I pulled
Adib aside and told him that Sarah's present was also
a laptop for school, but to let her be surprised.
After spending about 5 minutes showing Priya how to
use the phone, she set it aside to fire up the laptop
and play. While Priya was engrossed with the laptop, I
explained that we all understand what education means,
and that the proper tools mean better results. He
wanted me to take it all back, but I told him it was a
gift to my new family, nothing more.
The next morning, after arriving at Priya's, Salima
told me that Sarah and her grandmother (Salima's
mother) would be there soon. There, in a corner of the
living room sat the new computer desk, complete with
computer and printer.
We'd been chatting for about 30 minutes, when Sarah
and her grandmother arrived. Salima introduced us in
the usual customarily Muslim fashion and I studied
her.
I immediately recognized where her mother, but more
precisely, Priya got their looks. She was a mature
woman of about 60 with a complexion slightly lighter
that Priya's. She had the same large, black,
expressive eyes; and the same radiant smile as Priya.
She too was only about 5 feet tall and with a petite,
but slightly rounded figure. She was dressed in
traditional Muslim dress with a hijab (a headdress
that covers the head and neck, only showing the face).
With the introductions complete, Priya and I returned
to the dining room table, sat and began to talk. The
three other women were quietly talking and giggling,
with occasional glances in my direction, so I guessed
what their topic of discussion was about.
Priya said, "They're talking about you. Your blonde
hair, blue eyes, and how handsome you are."
It was my turn to blush, and I said, "Yeah, I guess
my
features can be a novelty."
The three women quieted down, and began speaking in
hand covered whispers, and then, Salima and Sarah
started to head (I guessed) to Sarah's bedroom with
her bags. Priya's grandmother looked at us, then
followed the others.
I realized, that at the moment, Priya and I were alone
and unchaperoned for the first time. So did Priya!
She quickly, as if on a lark, smiled demurely leaned
over, pulled me to her with her left hand behind my
head, and gave me a soft, lingering, closed mouth kiss
on the lips with our eyes locked on each other!
I was surprised (and suddenly hard), but then her eyes
got as big as silver dollars, and were looking towards
the living room. She slowly broke the kiss, and with
her head down, sat back down in her seat. I waited for
the end to come…
I was suddenly filled with a wave of horror expecting
that this would be the end of our courtship, and that,
because we had crossed the line, we'd broken the trust
that her family hand in her… and me. I was lost. The
softness of her tiny lips overwhelmed me, and I
reacted with passion, only to be followed by sadness
in the realization that I might never taste her again.
Her grandmother walked over to stand between us and
looked at Priya, who now had tears in her eyes. She
put her hand under Priya's chin and lifted her face to
look at her. After a moment of silence, she softly
said to Priya, "You've been a naughty girl."
"Yes, Me Ma, I'm sorry." Priya whispered
bowing her
head down again.
"You, child," she began, "Are just like
your
grandmother." Priya looked up in disbelief, and her
grandmother, now with a Mona Lisa type smile
continued, "And like your mother too — but I didn't
tell you that did I?"" With that, Priya giggled,
blushed, and shook her head no.
She went on, "An old woman needs a little fun in
her
life so we set you up. I caught your mother when she
was courting, as did mine, and we thought it humorous
to continue the 'tradition.' My advice to you would be
to be more careful next time," her voice becoming more
serious continued, "But don't make a habit of this, do
you understand? Your mother trusts both of you to do
the right thing."
Softly smiling at her grandmother, Priya said, "Yes
Me
Ma, I understand."
Priya's grandmother looked at me, pinched a cheek in
each hand smiled, and said, "I've never kissed a
beautiful, blonde-haired boy before," and then
proceeded to gave me a soft peck on the lips!
I was stunned! Priya stared at her me ma with open
mouthed shock, then her grandmother looked at her with
a devilishly child-like grin and said, "Now, we've
BOTH been naughty, haven't we?" she giggled, and
blushed (So that's where she gets her chocolate blush
from!) She then went to the 'frig to remove some
mangos like nothing happened.
Priya and I sat in silence for a moment, trying to
recover, when the other two women suddenly entered the
kitchen: Sarah, with her hand covered mouth giggling,
and Salima with her classic Mona Lisa type smile. They
stopped, there was a moment of silence, and then
everyone broke out in laughter.
After refreshments and lighthearted conversation,
Priya gave Sarah her present. Perplexed, she opened
the package, and quietly began to cry, She was very
humbled and appreciative for the gift, thanking me
profusely while slowly running her hand over the box.
She set it aside out of politeness, waiting to indulge
herself later with her new present.
Shortly thereafter, I said goodbye to the ladies and
headed for home.
At dinner, I related Sarah's reaction to her new
laptop and the 'surprising' events of the day. After
I'd finished telling the story, both my parents
laughed, and my mom said, "I like that woman!"
After dinner, I excused myself early, completed my
evening ritual and went to bed, dreaming of our first
kiss.
Over the next week and a half, Priya and I talked of
everything under the sun; about our families,
differences in cultures and customs, our tastes in
food, but also seriously about our fears and
insecurities, and the things all of us hid from the
outside world.
We both admitted a strong reliance on our mothers, and
that we'd definitely have a marriage where our
families were an integral part. She stated that she'd
like to major in medical engineering and be a part of
bringing new treatments and procedures to medicine. We
agreed that waiting to have children was best for both
of us; her for her schooling, and me, because I didn't
feel ready to be a father yet.
At the end of the second week of courtship, I told my
parents at breakfast that I (and I was certain that
Priya felt the same) felt that it was time to ask Adib
for Priya's hand. My dad said, "Are you certain this
is what you want, are you absolutely certain?"
I replied with conviction, "Yes Dad, more than
anything else in the world!"
Mom, with tears in her eyes said, "Oh Sean. I'm so
happy for both of you!"
I called, trying to catch Adib at home before he left
for work, and was fortunate: he answered the phone. We
expressed our salaams, and then I began, "Adib, is it
possible for you to make time for us to talk about
Priya and I?"
He replied, "I could go into work late, if you'd
like
to meet this morning."
"You're more than kind," I said, "I can
be there in
about thirty minutes, is that alright with you?"
"I'll be waiting," he replied. We said our
goodbyes,
and I left to meet with my future father-in law.
After arriving, Adib and I exchanged greetings. Priya
was sitting on the couch with her mother. Adib
motioned me to the kitchen table, while Priya and
Salima remained on the couch. Now, things would become
a ritual of formality and custom where only the men
talked of a young virgin's future.
We sat, and I, silent for a moment was trying to
dislodge the frog in my throat when Adib laid his hand
on mine and smiled. I began, "Adib, I have come to you
this morning to humbly ask for Priya's hand in
marriage. I haven't asked Priya yet, thinking it
improper to do so without your permission, but I feel
that we're of one heart."
He replied, "I give my consent and my daughter to
you
in marriage. Have you considered what dower you will
present to Priya that will be acceptable for her to
accept your proposal?"
"Yes sir, in order to make my offering legally
binding, I thought I'd make our prenuptial agreement
and Priya's dower one in the same. I will stipulate in
our agreement that I guarantee to pay for, and she
will be allowed to complete her education until she
gets her degree. I also promise not to burden her with
children, so that she may concentrate on her studies.
I will set aside a trust fund for her in the amount of
ten million US dollars (audible gasps from the other
room) to have and use as she sees fit. She will not,
while we are married, ever have to touch a penny of
this money to support any part of her life unless she
so chooses. Furthermore, I will support her and our
children completely. Any interest this trust gains is
hers to keep, even in the unlikely event we divorce. I
will amend my will to name her as sole beneficiary to
my estate in the event of my death if we're still
married at the time of my death, but will amend my
will as necessary to include any and all children we
may have. Any and all children, boys or girls, will be
provided for equally in my life and in my death.
As a special wedding gift, I request that I be allowed
to pay for Priya's wedding clothes and those of Sarah
and her mother. Is this dower an acceptable gift to
Priya in your eyes?"
"As her guardian, if Priya accepts your proposal of
marriage and dower, I give my consent. It is her
decision, not mine, to either accept or reject the
offered dower. Priya? Come here."
Priya entered the kitchen with her hands folded in
front of her and looked down submissively and said,
"Yes Papa?"
He took her hands in his, and looked up into her eyes
and said, "Priya, have you heard Sean ask for your
hand?"
"Yes, Papa."
"Do you accept the dower he has offered, or does it
fall short in your eyes?"
"I accept, Papa. The proposal and the dower, it is
pleasing to me. I consent to marry."
From the around the corner, we heard a joyful squeal
(I guess there's more than one eavesdropper in this
female tribe!)
Adib, with his chest out in pride, called to Salima
and said happily "Salima, come here."
Salima entered as her daughter did, and said, "Yes
Adib?"
I spoke up and said, "I ask all of you to indulge
me
for a moment and let me do this the old fashioned
western way."
I looked lovingly at Priya, and said, "I know the
formality is over, but I want to ask you personally."
I got down on one knee with Adib, Salima and now Sarah
watching. Looking up into her eyes, I continued,
"Priya, I cannot imagine a day in my life without you.
I love you with all of my heart. Will you honor me
with your love and marry me?"
Her face was beaming a warm smile, her tearful eyes
wide and bright with joy as she replied, "Yes! Yes
Sean, I'll marry you!"
With tears streaming down her cheeks, Salima said,
"Our daughter is getting married!"
I again sat, as did Priya, Salima and Sarah, and I
jokingly said to Adib, "Well, besides buying the
rings, what do we do next? I've never even been to a
Muslim wedding!"
Adib said, "First thing is to go straight to the
registrar's office to post the notice of marriage.
While waiting for you, I called him and he knows we're
coming. Then, you and Priya may go purchase your
rings, alright?"
I said, "Fine, let me call home with the
news." I
pulled out my cell and dialed home. When Mom got on
the line and I told her it was official, she let out
an ear-piercing cry of joy.
I had a company chauffeur driven car waiting outside,
so Adib, Priya and I left for the registrar's office.
On the drive there, Priya was on her cell prattling on
a mile a minute in Tamil (I think) to her mother. We
went in to the registrar's office, signed the notice
and paid the fee. Leaving the building, Adib said he
was going to walk the block to work and left us.
Once in the car, Priya flung her arms around me and
kissed me hard, nearly climbing on top of me! When we
came up for breath, she pulled back in the seat, and
with the joy and anticipation every woman has about
shopping said, "Can we go home and pick up Momma and
Sarah, then pick up your mom also? They're going to
help me pick out my rings!"
"Sure, why not make it a family affair," I
said
resigned.
Needless to say, I spent the afternoon being dragged
around looking at rings. They were like a bunch of
teenage girls at the mall with daddy's credit card! I
was occasionally asked my opinion, but with women,
this was their show, and I was only there as the token
groom. Priya finally settled on a beautiful 1 caret,
round cut diamond solitaire in a platinum setting, and
a platinum wedding band with a row of diamonds across
the top. She (they) picked mine out, also in platinum
that matched hers. We waited while they sized our
rings. On the way back to Priya's home, she was too
busy swooning over the ring on her tiny finger,
flashing it and tittering with the 'girls,' with me
sitting back and amusingly taking it all in.
Mom and Salima agreed to a family dinner tonight at
eight to begin the planning of a Muslim wedding.
On the ride home, Mom squeezed my arm and said,
"Oooh!
This is going to be such fun!"
Continued in Chapter 8…
|