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Child Brides of India
By C. Stanton Leman
Chapter 6: Decisions, decisions (slow, rom Mg, no sex)
After saying my goodbyes, Priya and her family left
for the evening. I paused in the foyer before heading
to the living room to hear Dad's real feelings on what
had transpired this evening.
I didn't know what to expect from him, but I knew he
had a bad habit of privately blowing off steam before
settling down to a calm, coherent discussion.
How was I going to explain it to him? Hell, I didn't
fully comprehend what I was feeling: One thing I did
know was that I had to have Priya in my life! Knowing
less about her than I did Sarah, I still felt that she
was my soul mate. Armed with this, I walked to the
living room to face my parents.
When I entered the living room, Mom was sitting on the
sofa and Dad was pacing back and forth in front of
her. He stopped, and they both turned to look at me
for a second. My father motioned for me to sit next to
Mom, which I did.
Without speaking, Dad began pacing again, Mom just
looked at me with a look that said, "Get ready, here
it comes!"
Dad stopped, faced us and began, "Just what the
fuck
happened here tonight? Whatever happened to the 'I
could never picture myself pursuing a girl that age'
line of crap? What the fuck are we going to do about
THIS? No! Don't anyone answer that yet!
If I don't get this shit out of my system now, I'm
liable to say something I'll really regret later."
Looking at me, he began again. "Don't you realize
what
this will do to me?"
Mom interjected, "John, this isn't just about
you."
He spat back "That's exactly what I mean! When I
say
me, I mean me, you, Sean, the company: our future!
People go to jail for this shit back home! Even
thinking about it would bring everything to ruin. Not
counting the fact that Sean, and possibly anyone else
that considered, aided or abetted what we're talking
about could be prosecuted and go to jail!
Sean, could you really, possibly even think about
fucking an 11 year-old girl?"
Mom spat back, "John! There's absolutely no need to
talk like that about her!"
Dad looked at Mom with defiance and retorted, "Shut
the fucking hell up! It's a valid question."
I looked Dad in the eye and firmly stated " I can
certainly imagine making love to her, but not simply
fucking her, as you put it."
"Well, if memory serves me right, whatever kind of
gloss you what to put on it, making love requires a
certain amount of fucking!"
Trying to defuse the situation before he and I got
into verbal fist-o-cuffs, I said, "Why don't we
discuss this when you can have an objective
conversation without being crude and offensive?"
With that, he seemed to calm a little, then began
again, "Look son, my delivery might have been a bit
crude, but it's still a valid point. That point, or
should I say points, being: One, marrying an 11 year-
old girl; two, consummating that marriage and
maintaining a conjugal relationship with her; three,
no matter how smart or mature she may seem, the law
will see it as a form of controlling and taking
advantage of her, contributing to the delinquency of a
minor for carnal motives, and four, any other shit
that comes along that we haven't even thought of!
Sean, I know this must be as hard on you as it is on
us, but how do you feel right now? How do feel—
exactly—about her?"
I thought for a moment to try and best vocalize things
I hadn't had time to really sort out, and began
slowly, "I feel consumed: totally and helplessly
consumed. Consumed with love and desire, of a desire
to have her with me to love her forever; a desire to
share my life and that love with her, a desire that…
it's so hard to explain right now.
There's a passion and a deep desire to express these
things intimately, but I wouldn't call it lust: more
like a primal need that only she can fill: does that
make any sense?"
As I was revealing all this to my parents, and
acknowledging it to myself for the first time, I began
to vividly picture Priya my mind: her dark, seductive
and mysterious eyes; her radiant face, the warmth of
her smile, her small hands, tiny frame and hips, her
budding breasts all the way down to her delicate feet.
All of her wrapped up in a tiny, petite package of
pure innocence contained within the warmth and
flawlessness of her light, chocolate skin… my breath
quickened within me and I started to become erect.
Yes' I wanted her, every single cell of her. As I
hardened, I accepted my primal, carnal need to have
her, to consume her in every way possible to consume a
woman. Her age and innocence, I now realized, was an
added elixir of desire that somehow, fanned the flames
of my passionate need— and love-- for her. Was I a
'closet pervert?'
Was I kidding myself, or rationalizing? Was I using
love as a 'reason' to think with my dick, confusing
love with lust? I know little of love between a man
and a woman, but I think physical desire or maybe even
lust are all mixed up and a part of it all: I can't
imagine having one without the other if I'm desirous
of an intimate relationship, can I?
With tears in my eyes, I looked at Mom, then Dad and
said, "I need her… God help me, I so desperately need
her."
Mom started crying and hugged me, while dad just
simply shook his head.
I suddenly remembered the words of the Imam while
describing finding something within her. I told my
parents that the Imam had said something I didn't
really notice, at the time, would be all too prophetic
in describing tonight's events.
As if, like a distant voice instructing me to repeat
him word, word for word, I said, "The Imam told me 'If
Allah ordains the marriage, there will be something
about her that will move your heart to seek out the
source. Deep within her where that source resides, you
will find your bride. The rest is up to you and your
personal walk with Allah, Praise and peace be upon
Him.'"
My father, although not denying the hand of God in
tonight's events, didn't openly acknowledge it either.
He simply said, " If this is truly meant to be, then
we need answers immediately. First, Sean, you'll have
to contact that 'I-maam' or 'I-mom' or whatever he's
called tomorrow. Find out all you can about the
legalities of these kinds of marriages. I'll call Adib
in the morning about any marriages like this being
legally sanctioned by Indian law, and I'll also call
the US Consulate and see if INS will recognize such a
marriage: if it ain't legal, it ain't gonna happen!
Got That! Love or no love, you aren't going to go to
jail just because your sweetheart is 11 years old! I
can't fucking believe that I'm even considering this!"
Mom spoke up and said, "Sean, I agree with your
dad. I
think this is our only avenue to take. I don't really
care what our religions beliefs are, if it's not a
marriage legally sanctioned in India's courts, and you
can't obtain a legitimate marriage license, then to
me, it's not a real marriage sanctioned by God.
Let's go to bed, and tomorrow, do what we need to do
to resolve this one way or another."
Dad said, "I'm not sure how much sleep any of us
will
get, but your mom's right. Let's go to bed."
With that, Mom and I rose, then we all said good night
and headed upstairs to bed.
The next morning, after my morning rituals, I said my
morning prayers with even more fervor, pleading for
assurance and guidance. I then headed down to what I
fully expected to be a tense breakfast, which it was.
Mom and Dad said very little, but Dad was discussing
the day's duties as if we had a business deadline to
meet. To me, this was normal for him, and the best way
to organize our 'research.'
I did manage to get an appointment with the Imam at
1:30 this afternoon, and was sitting in the study when
Dad told me to call the US Consulate. I left to do his
bidding while he called Adib.
I called the embassy, and was finally connected to the
consul in charge of K-1 fiancé and K-3 spousal visas.
He told me that the US would accept a marriage as
legal if there was a valid certificate of marriage
registered with the Indian government in the Marriage
Certification Book in the district in which the
marriage took place. Muslim or Hindu religious
registrations of marriage aren't considered valid and
legal by the Indian or US government unless they are
validated by government registration.
Dad had finished talking to Adib about the same time I
finished my call, and we compared notes. Dad said that
Adib had told him the same thing, and basically the
procedure to get a valid marriage certificate. One of
them being, a 'notice of intention to marry ' had to
be recorded in a Marriage Notice Book for 30 days. If
no objections to the marriage were made within this
time, a legal marriage could take place. Adib assured
dad that whomever Priya married, she would follow the
law and get a legally registered marriage license,
although he would have to 'pull some strings' because
of her age, but that didn't pose any problem for him.
With Mom present for all of this, she seemed to be
optimistic about the chances for a legal resolution,
when dad said, "Well, at least we know you two will be
'courting' for at least 30 days. That should give us
some time to get to know whether or not you two have
what it takes to get to that point. I'm tellin' you
boy, she'd better be worth her salt!"
Mom agreed, but added, "She sure wrapped you around
her finger last night didn't she?" then added a
chuckle.
Dad just gave Mom a slight smile and a
"Hmmmf."
Leaving that one alone. I asked Dad whether he thought
it was necessary for me to still meet with the Imam,
or put it off until we were closer to an actual
marriage, and he agreed. So, I called the Imam back,
and thanked him for making time for me, but that it
wasn't necessary to meet just yet, and he was ok with
it.
It seemed that by 2pm, we were finished with our
'research.' All we had to do was wait until tonight to
meet with the Haaseems.
I went to my dad's country club for a swim and to work
out in the gym. I hadn't done any exercise since
arriving, and needed to work off some tension anyway.
While working out, I kept getting distracted thinking
of Priya. What would life be like, having such a young
and tiny bride? Does my size frighten her in any way?
Waking up each morning, her to school and me to run a
company. Even though, like she, I was 'advanced' at
the same age, I still relied a lot on my mom: would
she need to be near hers? I was amused to think that
one of my 'husbandly' duties would probably be to help
her with her homework.
Thinking of intimacy, I had a vivid picture of the
shape of her face in my mind, and what made her face
so beautiful was, it seemed to me, that it looked
perfectly symmetrical. I began to wonder what it would
be like to kiss such a small mouth, to touch her small
tongue with my own. She has a beautiful mouth, with
that warm and inviting smile. The shape of her lips is
not thin, but neither too full, sort of like a Nicole
Kidman mouth.
She's like a miniature woman in the making: her tiny
frame, small hips, her budding breasts: what would it
be like to feast at her tiny developing nipples? What
does the vulva of a chocolate girl that young look
like? Feel like, smell like or… taste like? Does she
even have any hair there yet? Would she enjoy making
love, or would she be frightened or terrified by our
size difference? Could she accommodate me? Could a
girl of that age harbor a passion for me as I do for
her? Can she even climax? I was getting hard thinking
of her body in such intimate terms, and tried to quell
the feelings within me that thought of her in such a
way. I headed for, and indeed needed a cold shower!
I arrived home in time to say evening prayers; I had
dressed in a casual pair of khaki pants and a long
sleeve shirt with the sleeves slightly rolled up.
We pretty much ate in silence, none of us knowing what
the evening ahead would bring.
The Haaseems arrived at 7. The mood was polite, but
not as informal as last night. We made our obligatory
Muslim greetings, greeting Adib, Salima and Sarah
politely and friendly, and moved to the living room.
When I greeted Priya, she smiled with her chocolate
blush, and I said to her "Assalamu aliakom. I've
missed you."
She answered, "Wa aliakum asslalm. I've thought of
nothing but you."
Our parents stood by and watched us greet, then
motioned us into the living room.
My Dad started by saying, 'I am not going to pretend
that I know your usual custom in these situations, but
here's what I have in mind. Since what we decide
tonight will affect all of our lives forever, then
all, and I do mean all: including Sarah, Priya and
Sean be present and have their input, do we all
agree?"
Sarah said, in a mild tone, "I believe that this is
between all of you. Everyone knows how I feel, and I
haven't changed my convictions at all since last
night. I'll just sit on the side and listen if that's
OK with you?"
Dad said, "Fine. As you wish, but if you have a
point
to make, speak up, OK?
"Yes sir," she replied.
"Adib? Salima? Is this acceptable to you?"
Both looked at each other and nodded.
Dad went on to explain what I'd learned from the US
Consulate, and Adib said that he wasn't surprised at
all, pretty much knowing what they'd say.
Dad summed up the talking points by saying, "So, we
all agree that if Priya and Sean begin this courtship,
before they get married they need to file a 30-day
notice to do so, is that correct, Adib?"
"Yes, that's correct. I will handle all of that on
my
own, but the two of them will have to accompany me to
the registrar's office to sign the notice and pay the
fee."
"Alright, what kind of timetable do all of you feel
we
should follow? Let's brainstorm here and hear comments
from everyone. Priya, you go first.
"Well sir," she began, "do you mean that
I can freely
speak my mind as an equal with you, Sean, Mrs.
Michaels and my parents?
"That's exactly what I'm saying Priya. It's your
life
we're talking about. If you're old enough and mature
enough to even consider marriage, then you're entitled
to speak with equal weight and consideration, and
without any recrimination."
"Then I will speak plainly without any fear. I
believe
that if the facts bear out what my heart already
knows, I feel that we could possibly file our notice
of marriage about the middle of next month, maybe
sooner. That would allow us to marry right before
Ramadan. Possibly before school starts in September."
Priya looked at me and smiled (and blushed again),
then back to look Dad straight in the eye.
"Sean, what do you have to say?"
"I feel that Priya and I speak with one heart and
mind. If our minds can verify what Allah has revealed
to our hearts in a moment, then it won't be long at
all." As I said this, I looked at Priya and smiled.
"Adib? Salima? Your thoughts please."
Adib began by saying, "John, Sean, Joan, last night
we
shared with Priya all of our thoughts and observations
that we've made over time regarding Sean when we were
considering him for Sarah's introduction. Because of
this, Priya may know much more about Sean than he does
of her. I believe that this is the reason for her
quick timeline. Do you agree, Salima?"
"Yes, I agree. I also believe that all of our
observations of their courtship will also either
confirm or deny any attempt to rush things by them."
My dad put in, "Adib, what Joan and I can't
understand, is that if Priya was a more suitable
partner than Sarah as far as academics and maturity,
why not introduce Priya first instead of Sarah?"
"John, I felt—and still do feel Sean is a man
worthy
of my daughter. I, and I speak for Salima also, feel
that at the time, because of her tender age, felt we
was not moved by Allah, praise be upon Him, to offer
Priya. We never thought of offering either of our
daughters at such a young age. It is Allah, in His
infinite wisdom who has chosen Priya."
"Why?"
"Because we believe that Sarah's account of the
events
of last night is correct. Allah provided a miracle and
answered many prayers that night. We as well as Priya
have joy and peace about her becoming a bride."
Dad knelt down eye-to-eye with Priya, and said,
"Priya, you are such a young girl. Do you have any
fears? Do you fully understand how your life will be
changed forever? Marriage is forever, for life,
sweetheart. Sometimes, decisions such as these alter
our hopes and dreams: they can be replaced with bigger
and better ones, or all that you've ever dreamed of
may be lost forever, do you understand this?"
Priya calmly smiled and replied, "Father. I have a
papa, but if I leave my parents home to live in this
house, you will cherish me and protect me as a father,
so I will call you 'Father.'
Father, although I am young in years, I am not a
foolish baby. Yes, I do have fears: just like anyone
else, and I will help my husband in all his endeavors,
but in return, he must help me achieve some of mine.
Before I agree to marry any man, he must be willing to
help me try to be what I am capable of being:
otherwise, how may I help him prosper? I want to
finish my education and get my degree. I want the
world to see that a brown skinned Muslim girl can
contribute something of value to the world. If a man
can have a wife and do these things, why can't I? THAT
is my greatest fear: that marrying a Muslim man who
won't treat me as a person, and will snatch my dreams
away. Maybe I think in a more western approach about
women, but being Muslim shouldn't keep me from my
dreams, nor should marriage, should it?" As my father-
in–law, would you want any less for me as a daughter?
We all sat in awe of this little pixie! She'd done it
again. With every word she spoke, my love for her
deepened. Yes, she'd done it again and wrapped my
father around her little finger like toying with a
strand of her hair.
Even though she'd opened the door to his heart and
walked right in, he still couldn't comprehend a child
bride, and he asked her, "What of the duties of a
wife: the intimate duties? The things men and women
share that are sacred unto themselves?"
She blushed, smiled, and then proceeded. "I am
capable
of having children, and I'm a normal young woman, with
the normal thoughts, feelings and desires of a young
woman. The fire that Allah has lit burns deep within
my heart and will certainly grow. When I am married,
it will burn just as deep in my womb for my husband.
You will have to wait for me to give you a grandchild,
but I promise you, I will."
I saw my father's tears. This was the first time in my
life I had seen my father shed a tear—for anyone or
anything—but he cried. He reached for her, and then
stopped abruptly looking at Adib for permission. Adib
nodded, and my dad held her in his arms, and said, "My
dearest child, with your words, I do believe I've been
touched by God."
My father, not accustomed to being so emotional in
front of others, coughed, as if to clear his throat,
stood, and said, "Well Joan, does it appear that we're
going to prepare for a wedding?"
Mom, wiping the tears from her cheeks smiled and said,
"I think Salima, Sarah and I can do a better job with
the wedding that you MEN can do with introductions!"
With that, everyone simply broke apart in uproarious
laughter. With the weight and brevity of uncertainty
and indecision behind us, we again retired to the
veranda for refreshments and conversations of plans
for the future.
Priya and I stepped a little ways off, and I said to
her, "We will help each other achieve our dreams
together!" With tear filled eyes, she nodded and
smiled.
Priya then looked shyly submissive at me and said,
"I
know the answer in my heart," lowered her head as she
continued, "but I need to hear it from your lips…" she
paused, then looked up at me and asked, "Does my skin
color make you ashamed of me?"
I smiled at her and said, "It's a part of you and
you're beautiful. I do love you completely, but to
answer your question, I especially love how you do
wear it so beautifully."
With that, she gave me a nice 'chocolate blush,' and
giggled sweetly.
The hour was getting late, and Dad said that he and
Adib had to work tomorrow, unlike the rest of us, so
we called it a night.
Priya asked her mother if I could come over tomorrow
at 10am to begin our courtship, and Salima chuckled to
my mother saying, "They don't waste any time do they?"
My mom laughed and said, "When you get sick and
tired
of him, send him home to Momma!"
With that, all the girls had a laugh at my expense.
Priya, said casually to me, "I'll dream of you
tonight, my blonde haired prince."
Salima gently grabbed her arm and said, "remember
child, be chaste and humble before Allah, peace be
unto Him, for what He giveth, He may also take away."
"Yes, Mama," she replied meekly, but she still
gave me
a tender smile while saying it.
As she started to get in the car, I watched her turn
and smile before Salima directed her inside to leave.
Returning to the living room to join Mom and Dad, we
sat for a while drinking tea, and dad said, "Sean, as
happy as I am for you, and as much as I look forward
to having Priya as a daughter-in-law, I can't feel
totally at peace until I see a valid marriage
certificate in your hands."
I replied, "You will Dad… you will."
Continued in Chapter 7…
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