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From: "C. Stanton Leman" <csleman.story@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Child Brides of India
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Date: Sun, 18 Mar 2007 13:10:02 -0400
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Please post these chapters of my story to the week-by-week indexes.
  Thanks,
  C. Stanton Leman

 
---------------------------------
We won't tell. Get more on shows you hate to love
(and love to hate): Yahoo! TV's Guilty Pleasures list.
<1st attachment, "Child_Brides_of_India_1_Intro_1_.txt" begin>

Child Brides of India
By C. Stanley Leman
Introduction

I'm a new author posting my first story, and this is 
the first piece of fiction that I've written since 
college. If you're looking for a quick stroke story, 
look elsewhere. For my first attempt, I'd like to 
concentrate on the development of the characters and 
their motives, and it starts out very slow. This story 
contains elements of "legalized" consensual sexual 
contact between adults and prepubescent/pubescent 
partners, as one of the main talking points of my 
story: can a child/young teen reasonably give consent 
even if understanding and care is given to obtain it, 
and what of the motives of the adult(s) in question? 
I've tried to write a story where love, cultures, 
customs, religion, and laws both secular and religious 
are the catalyst and moving factors. Add to the mix, 
the parties own insecurities, need for love, and 
circumstances, I hope, make for an interesting story. 

Although the main character is Muslim, I am not. 
Therefore I've done extensive research on Muslim 
customs, prayers, ceremonies as well as Islamic laws 
mentioned or discussed within for this story. However, 
not being infallible, a mistake or two may have 
possibly made. It must also be noted that various 
sects, denominations, and regions have slightly 
different interpretations and practices also. If I 
have erred in these areas, it's not my intention to 
offend anyone but purely an unintentional mistake. 

Many events in history, and some degree in people's 
personal lives, can be motivated by adherence to 
fervency of religious practice, or cultural customs, 
and the internal struggle of character and ethics 
within us while trying to confront and control the 
demons each of us struggles with called desire and 
lust. With justifications, 'reasons', and 
rationalizations, sometimes we aren't even quite 
certain ourselves what motivates us to do the things 
we do.

This entire story is a figment of my imagination, and 
is fictional. Any resemblance to anyone alive or dead 
is purely co-incidental and unintentional. 

I do not condone or advocate any acts contained 
herein: it is an erotic fictional tale. They are 
illegal in many countries. There is no excuse to abuse 
a child or use a child for one's own needs or 
fulfillment. 


The story codes for this entire story haven't been 
completely finalized, but are basically, slow, rom, 
ped, cons, Mg, Mf, Mfg, fg, Mgg, oral, anal, ws, in 
varying arrangements, but will be listed with each 
chapter.

Any and all criticism can be sent to csleman (dot) 
story (at) yahoo (dot) com. Drop me a line and give me 
some feedback as to what you think: should I continue 
or move on to something else?

I would really like to extend my gratitude and thanks 
to Daibhidh and Uncle Sky for their editing help, 
encouragement and support towards a new author!

 

Child Brides of India
By C. Stanley Leman

Chapter 1: Old Friends/New Horizons (set-up, no sex)

I guess my story begins while on my way home from 
college. My name is Sean Michaels, I'm an academic 
prodigy with a BE in computer engineering, an MBA in 
international finance and a PhD in engineering systems 
analysis all from Princeton. I am what many have 
jokingly called "the kid with everything and nothing 
to lose": looks, money and brains. 

Now, at 18, I'm 6 feet tall, weigh about 190, with 
medium blonde hair, blue eyes and a fit, cut physique. 
I never really thought my looks to be personally 
advantageous, although throughout high school and 
college I was referred to as the "hunky kid geek". 
Being born too smart for my own good, I was always 
several years younger than my peers at school. I dated 
occasionally, but nothing serious, not even a high 
school romance. Well, that's not entirely true. I did 
have one very close friendship that lasted a year, 
with a girl named Marie. We parted when her father's 
job transferred him to Paris. She was a fellow Mensa 
student in high school. I was 15 and she was twelve, 
and we were drawn to each other because we both felt 
the pressure of being surrounded by peers that were 
older and more socially adept. Our relationship was 
one of close friendship that kindred spirits share 
where we could talk of anything under the sun, seeing 
most things with the same perspective, the same fears 
and insecurities. I was attracted to her, but her 
tender age (and my shyness) kept me from trying to 
advance any intimate relationship further than holding 
hands, a mutual hug, and an occasional kiss. It was 
mostly a friendship of the heart in which we both 
relied upon each other for emotional support and 
understanding. 

While in high school, girls my age were in middle 
school, and high school girls liked upper classmen 
that were jocks-with cars. Besides, ever since I 
started public school, kids my age were far below my 
academic and interest level. College was even worse. 
College girls were dating men of twenty years and up 
while I was just getting my driver's license: hard to 
compete even for a genius. I was always the nice "boy" 
that was asked to tutor and always "just a friend": 
the kiss of death, I learned, for any guy regardless 
of age.

Physically, I tried very hard to compensate for my age 
by working out, swimming, golf, running track, and in 
college rowed. Although I enjoyed the activities and 
the results to my physique, they did little to enhance 
my chances for any real relationship. As I once 
overheard someone comment in the library, "...a man's 
body, but still a kid." I did manage to get laid a few 
times, so I guess you could say it wasn't ALL for 
naught.

The last two (money and brains), were assets and gifts 
I just had, and never made any apologies for having. 
My father, John, was a wildcat computer engineer that 
started his own private company during the DOT COM era 
and struck gold. He had purchased 3000 shares of 
Microsoft for me on its initial IPO to start my 
portfolio, and now I'm worth a more than most people 
make in a lifetime. I've never told anyone the extent 
of my financial holdings, but people that know me, 
know I'm affluent and being groomed for the corporate 
world.

My mother, Joan, was an educator who gave up formal 
teaching when I was born. She home schooled me until I 
reached the age of 12, when she said that she felt 
that she was failing me, holding me back from 
achieving my "full potential." She felt I could easily 
have entered high school much earlier. She also felt 
it was time for me to meet other kids and acquire the 
social skills I lacked with fellow students. 

As for brains, I liked being smart, intelligent and 
advanced: it was just the way I always was. Two years 
for high school, two for my BA, one for my masters and 
one for my PhD. I did however, have the insecurity of 
feeling somewhat alienated from my surroundings and 
social settings due to my age difference. I instead 
embroiled myself in my studies to acquire the 
necessary education and techniques required to assume 
control of a portion, at first, them all of my 
father's company when the time came, and continue on 
to build my own empire. 

Although my insecurities in personal relationships 
with the opposite sex where there, I learned to be 
very socially adept, tactful, and communicative- even 
if only for survival in my surroundings with peers and 
academics. Aside from girls, I was always in control 
and appeared to be at ease in any setting.

I snapped out of my introspection when the cab came to 
a stop at my front door. With all my credentials for 
success in hand, I arrived home to a welcome-less, 
empty family estate in Clarksville, Maryland, a 
wealthy suburb of Washington, DC. I paid the cabbie, 
gave him a generous tip, and walked through the front 
door. 

My parents (really, my Dad) didn't feel they needed to 
be at my doctorate graduation because, as my dad put 
it, "It's just fluff on a cupcake." Don't get me 
wrong, as an only child, my parents love me dearly and 
I them. They're in India right now where dad had moved 
our manufacturing plant to New Delhi, making the 
arrangements for me to begin taking over the plant as 
senior VP of Operations. 

Hauling my baggage up to my room, I dropped everything 
on the floor, and flopped on the bed with a sigh of 
relief thinking, "Boy, it's good to be home, even for 
just a coupla' days." As I lazily stared at the 
ceiling, it finally sank in that my life had reached a 
major turning point. 

The point being, now, I'm not fighting for grades, 
class ranking and degrees any more, now it's all about 
dollars, millions of dollars: my father's dollars, and 
my dollars. It's now about the profit/loss statements, 
P/E ratios, dividends, and NOI that are the standards 
by which the financial world will judge me brutally. 
The financial press has gotten an inkling of the move, 
and had a quiet, watchful eye on the company (and me) 
trying to decide if this will be a good move for the 
company or simply a case of nepotism as usual.

Trying to lighten up my mood and prime myself into an 
optimistic frame of mind for the future, I bounced off 
the bed and headed to the kitchen to raid the 'frig.

"Hmmmm," I thought, looking around the empty kitchen, 
"I wonder where Abby is?" She's our housekeeper/maid 
(more like my second mom). "Oh well, you're a big boy 
now, you can certainly feed yourself," I muttered, 
scolding myself. 

Sitting at the breakfast bar with my PB & J's and a 
glass of milk, I wondered, "What's India really like?" 
I'd done my research about the financials and the 
government corruption, but what of the people, the 
culture(s) and language(s)?" Being a new convert to 
Islam two years ago, I recalled reading that there is 
still a lot of unspoken animosity between Muslims and 
Hindus, with Muslims coming up short on the political 
and economic end of things since Hindus are the more 
predominate and therefore the ruling faction. I still 
didn't understand about their complicated caste 
system, but I DID understand the prejudice concerning 
skin color even among religious and economic equals. 
It's the same in America, only now it's become 
subtler. Women: now that's an issue. Although somewhat 
more equal and better in the educated and more 
affluent of society, they are still second-class 
citizens. As for children, being the lowest in the 
food chain right down there with the family's 
possessions, their seemingly nonexistent rights were 
constantly being trampled underfoot. 

I began to think about how all corporations, large and 
small, have implemented equal opportunity laws with 
regard to hiring, salaries, and workplace etiquette...
"What if we, as a company, used the same practices in 
India? Wouldn't THAT turn a few heads? It might cost 
more to implement, but once in place, it could 
possibly pay huge dividends in higher productivity, 
quality and employee loyalty in the end. Besides, 
isn't good business ethics simply good business? Hmmm, 
something to consider and run by Dad." 

Moving on to lighter fare, I decided that a few laps 
in the pool, get loosened up and then a workout in the 
gym would be more realistic and beneficial than 
hulking around the house trying to scheme how to 
change the world in my first move as a corporate 
leader.

I changed, I did a brisk 10 laps in the pool, then 
toweled myself off and headed to the gym for a few 
'reps on the nautilus. After an hour-long workout and 
cool down, I headed to my room and a shower.

After a refreshing shower, it was almost dusk, so I 
laid out my prayer rug and began my evening prayers. 
Before finishing evening prayers, because my life 
would begin a new journey and direction, you know, 
that uneasiness we all feel when our lives embark in a 
new direction, I finished up my prayers with my du'a 
supplication for guidance and reassurance from Allah:
"Oh Allah! I seek Your guidance by virtue of Your 
knowledge, and I seek ability by virtue of Your power, 
and I ask You of Your great bounty. You have power; I 
have none. And You know; I know not. You are the 
Knower of hidden things. 
Oh Allah! If in Your knowledge, my journey and 
endeavors in India is good for my religion, my 
livelihood and my affairs, immediate and in the 
future, then ordain it for me, make it easy for me, 
and bless it for me. And if in Your knowledge, these 
endeavors and the course of my life because of these 
endeavors is bad for my religion, my livelihood and my 
affairs, immediate and in the future, then turn it 
away from me, and turn me away from it. And ordain for 
me the good wherever it may be, and make me content 
with it."
I felt a noticeable peace about things after I'd 
finished my prayers. Calmly, and in a peaceful, more 
cheerful mood, I then headed to the kitchen to 
scrounge up dinner, when the phone rang. I glanced at 
my watch; it's 7:05pm. If it's dad on the phone, it'll 
be about 5:30am there: "Boy! He always was an early 
riser." I thought shaking my head and reached for the 
phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi son, I see you found your way back home alright. 
How's the old homestead?"

"Empty, but still here. Even Abby seems to have left 
me to my own devices. In a way though, it's kinda nice 
to have the run of the place."

"I know what you mean. I do my best thinking in quiet 
surroundings, that's why I get up so early. Kinda 
mentally plan out my daily routine and psyche myself 
up, if ya know what I mean?"

"Ditto Dad. What's up, anything in particular, or just 
calling to shoot the breeze at extravagant rates?"

"Well, I not only called to say hi, but also to talk a 
little about something in particular that I haven't 
yet wrapped my head around. Do you remember meeting 
that Indian government official at an Indian embassy 
dinner in Washington DC last year? You know, the 
Muslim man you spoke with at great length shortly 
after you converted to Islam?"

"Oh yeah, I remember... a Mr. Haaseem, I think."

"Yeah, that's him. Adib Haaseem. Since then, he's 
become an invaluable close personal friend and 
business ally. He works in the Indian Office for 
Foreign Business Affairs, and he's the only one I've 
met that can cut through all the bureaucratic bullshit 
and corruption to get me all the licenses, permits and 
approvals to get and keep things moving here in India 
and for our upcoming expanding facilities.

He's an honest and trustworthy man who's never asked 
for a bribe or perk of any kind. Anyway, he's known 
about you coming here to India to take things over and 
we met in my office yesterday for quite a while 
discussing the upcoming events. 

At first, we spoke strictly of business matters, and 
he made the suggestion that since you had to acclimate 
yourself with your new surroundings: you know 
geography, culture, food, and things like that... Well, 
he suggested that I give you a couple of months to get 
your feet planted. He even pointed out that Ramadan 
would be coming up in a couple of months after you 
arrive noting Muslim practice here in India is more 
strictly observed and practiced than in the U.S. I 
thought about it for a moment, and agreed that his was 
probably a good observation, and that you'd adjust 
better without the pressure of having to "jump right 
into the fire" so to speak. I agreed with him that a 
little time with the cultural learning curve was 
indeed a sound move. 

But then, the conversation took a different tone. He 
became more reserved... almost humble and turned to what 
he called "a matter close to his heart." I can usually 
read a man by his eyes, and his are usually bright, 
clear and open, but all of a sudden, I couldn't really 
get a good feel for his mindset. He then looked me 
right in the eyes, more softly and said that he'd 
never asked a personal or professional favor of any 
kind before and that he deeply valued our friendship. 
He asked me if I would be willing to arrange a meeting 
with you for a personal matter close to his heart, not 
business." 

"What did you say to that, Dad? How am I supposed to 
help him with a personal problem when we've only 
spoken once? I don't really know the man."

"That's what I was thinking, so I asked him 'what kind 
of personal matter?'" but he replied, that if he told 
me, would I agree not to disclose the nature of the 
matter to you before you two met. I told him that I 
didn't feel right in arranging a meeting on a matter 
that obviously was of great importance to him without 
giving you at least some idea of what he and you were 
to discuss. 

"Thanks for watching my back."

"No problem. What's a Dad for? Anyway, Here's the 
kicker, son. He then looked straight at me, and it 
looked almost like he had tears in his eyes, and said, 
"I would like for Sean to meet my daughter, Sarah" 

"WHAT? Did he really say that?"

"Yeah. At first, I didn't fully understand what he was 
really trying to say, I simply laughed and said, "Is 
THAT all? Sure! We can have you and the family over 
for dinner one night and he can meet the whole family! 
It is a little strange that we haven't done it sooner. 
I still haven't met your wife and daughters." He shook 
his head slightly and told me, "You don't fully 
understand what I have asked. I would like to ask Sean 
if we," At THAT I thought 'we?' "Could introduce the 
two of them so that they may, how do you say, 'get to 
know each other'. It would also give your family and 
mine a chance to meet and get better acquainted." I 
was astonished! I said to Adib "If I'm not mistaken, 
you've just asked me to help you begin arrangements 
for my son to marry your daughter: is that what your 
asking me?" 

"That's exactly what he's trying to say, Dad." 

"Are you positive? Listen. He then sat back in his 
chair saying, "It's more like an... introduction. I am 
not asking for anything more than that they meet, and 
that we all meet as two families in a social setting. 
If he and Sarah express a 'mutual interest' at the end 
of the evening to get to know each other better, then 
they can agree to spend more time together to become 
better acquainted. If either Sean or Sarah feel that 
they aren't interested- for whatever reason, then 
their meeting is nothing more than two families having 
a sociable dinner. Again, I'm not asking for anything 
more than for the two of them to be introduced to each 
other and talk. It's neither my intent nor desire to 
force my daughter or your son into something that 
either of them do not want or are uncomfortable with. 
My only request of Sean is that he and Sarah meet: 
nothing more." 

"Dad..." 

"I still couldn't believe what 'my friend' had just 
asked me."

"Daad?"

"Stop interrupting! Let me finish! So I asked him, 
"Why Sean? Why now? I don't keep track of his personal 
life, and I'd never try to 'suggest' to my son whom he 
should or shouldn't meet: it's just not in our culture 
to do these things. He's a grown man, and free to make 
these decisions on his own. So, I again ask you: why 
Sean?" 

Adib went on to tell me, "For several reasons. First, 
they are both Muslim, BUT..." and with this he raised an 
eyebrow and continued, "Muslims with similar interests 
in life: they're both academically advanced, both 
being of a higher IQ, although she's not to the degree 
as Sean, and advanced in studies above their peers, 
along with the some of the same insecurities that go 
along with that. Sean is an honest man who has shown 
to be in control of himself, of amiable temperament 
and with an open mind. He is also helpful and 
understanding with a gentleness beneath his outward 
confidence." 

A little shocked, because it appeared that he was 
speaking about my son with the intimate knowledge of a 
close friend or someone who'd spent a lot of time with 
you, so I cautiously asked him, "How do you know so 
much about Sean?" Adib went on to tell me, "I was 
impressed very much at our first meeting and 
conversation, and I have, of my own confession, 
'followed his progress' since then." 

I figured that I'd heard enough for the moment, and 
told him, "I'm a little taken back by your admission 
of having 'followed Sean's progress,' and I'm not 
quite sure what that means, but I cannot and will not 
give you any assurance that Sean will meet with you on 
this topic or even agree to your request. Even if, 
after approaching him, he chooses not to, will this 
impede any further relationship with me, my son or 
future business dealings?" Adib warmly smiled saying, 
"My dear friend, our friendship will certainly endure, 
as will my admiration of you and Sean. I will respect 
Sean's decision either way. I've done what I feel is 
my duty as a father and have made my request known for 
consideration. If it's the will of Allah, it shall all 
come to pass. I will take my leave for now, good 
friend. May the peace of Allah be upon you and yours 
always." All right. Now you can give me your take on 
the matter and say your piece."

"Dad..." I began, as I tried to string facts and get my 
thoughts together, "Yes, I'm a Muslim, but a rather 
new convert to the faith and not fully versed on all 
of the workings of certain aspects of the faith: one 
of those is namely, courtship and marriage. If my 
understanding of some of what I've heard from other 
Muslims is true, they don't 'date': not like 
westerners think of dating. The parents are the 
primary catalyst for the marriages of their children 
both men and women, and most children won't marry 
someone their parents don't approve of. Parents select 
potential spouses for their children based on criteria 
other than physical attraction. Namely, attributes of 
faith, education, personality traits, social standing 
and status, and things like that. Kinda like these new 
online dating services that advertise 'compatibility' 
profiles. Any way, after the parents select a suitable 
suitor, they approach his or her parents to arrange an 
'introduction.' This is all done in a closely 
controlled and chaperoned environment. To the parents, 
physical attraction is NOT a consideration, but a plus 
and use it to get the couple to want to know more 
about each other, but its not necessary because 
primary attention is given to whether they both like 
each other's qualities as a lifetime partner to ensure 
a life long marriage. This is what should decide 
whether or not the couple actually does marry. Both 
parties, meaning the potential couple, must agree and 
consent to a 'courtship' and mutual consent to marry 
each other or the marriage is declared invalid. I 
really do believe Dad that devout Muslims don't force 
their children to marry against their will. From what 
I've just told you about my understanding of Muslim 
courtship, Mr. Adib Haaseem is politely asking me to 
consider his daughter for marriage, going through you, 
the head of the family, as is the custom. Does this 
make sense to you, Dad?"

Silence...

"Dad?"

Still more silence...

"Dad? Are you there?"

"Yes son, I'm still here, just totally shocked: un-
fucking-believably shocked as a matter of fact. Aren't 
you? Damn! What now? They don't teach THIS shit at 
Princeton business school!"

"Well Dad, I'm not sure why I'm not shocked: quite 
surprised as to why me and the timing, but not 
shocked. That's probably why he engineered you into 
that 'cultural learning curve' idea, with a detour to 
get to know his daughter. Don't get me wrong I agree 
with the learning curve idea, but it's also a win/win 
situation for him. He didn't exactly lie to you about 
the arranged marriage part, he just redirected the 
conversation. Let me ask you Dad, just how good a 
friend is he? How sincere do you think his motives 
are?"

"I feel he was truly sincere and to answer your 
question, he's a very close and steadfast friend. 
That's why I'm so floored by this: I thought I really 
knew him better than that. I never saw it coming. How 
could he do this to me?"
 
"My first adult glimpse of fallibility in my father! I 
think he truly believes he's doing the right thing for 
his daughter and family. That motivation makes people 
do strange things sometimes. Well then, just for the 
sake of conversation, what would it hurt to simply 
meet the girl, what's her name? Oh yeah, Sarah. The 
least that can happen is that we have a nice sociable 
dinner together, I meet her, and that's that. The 
'worst' that could happen, is that I get swept off my 
feet. Ha, Ha! But then again, do you think that the 
tension around the 'unspoken event' wouldn't make for 
a reasonably comfortable setting for both our 
families?"

"I can tell you this son, all eyes and ears would 
certainly be, either directly or indirectly, on the 
two of you with every gesture, expression and word 
scrutinized and analyzed! I was so floored by the 
conversation that I didn't even get any info regarding 
his daughter: ya know? What she looks like, age all 
that other stuff." 

"He probably wouldn't have given you much anyway. Like 
I said, they're more concerned about the qualities 
that make a good spouse, not the physical aspect. Dad? 
Do you believe in love at first sight?"

"I certainly do, but I also believe that even though 
it happens a lot, it's not a common thing -- not true 
love anyway."

"So what are the odds? A thousand-to-one? A million-
to-one? I say we play the odds and accept his request, 
we make a dear friend happy, and leave it at that. You 
always told me I needed to adapt to ever changing 
circumstances. I'll meet many more people under 
strange situations before my life is over. Why shy 
away from it from the start?"

"It's up to you son, I'm not going to tell you yes or 
no. Yes, he's my good friend, but you're a man, and 
it's your decision whether this is the right thing to 
do or not."

"Tell you what. I'll pray about the situation, and 
think it over. I'll be leaving day after tomorrow and 
I'll give you my decision when I get there. How's that 
sound to you? Make sense?"

"Makes good sense to me, son. Whether you pray to 
Jesus or to Allah, praying to God never hurt any man's 
cause."

"Good. Now, how's Mom: does she like it there?"

"Mom's fine. She's having a great time! Spends most of 
her time sightseeing and spending a lot of my money of 
Indian art objects. Son, do you want me to..."

"Yeah Dad, tell her about it. She needs to know. If it 
happens, she'll be as much involved as everyone else 
in the room. Besides, I'd kinda like to hear what her 
take is on all of this."

"Yeah, OK son. I can hear her now. She'll have a 
golden cow! By the way, I'm sure I've got your flight 
information somewhere, or my secretary does, but give 
me a call before you take off with the your arrival 
time and flight number will ya?

"Sure Dad. And Dad? Don't worry about this too much. 
Like he said, it's all in Allah's hands. If it's 
ordained to happen, it will. Tell Mom I love her, and 
may the peace of Allah reassure your heart and hers. I 
love you Dad."

I love you too son, God bless, and I'll talk to you 
tomorrow. Bye now."

"Bye Dad."

I hung up the phone, and then turned to resume my task 
of making myself some dinner. As I took out some 
veggies and began to dice them up for a quick stew, I 
began to mull over the strange conversation I'd just 
had with my Dad. I wondered, "Why?' Behind every 
action is a motive. What was Adib's motive? Was it 
simply to arrange a marriage for his daughter because 
he truly felt I was a good candidate? Was it power? He 
seems to have plenty in the Indian government. Was it 
money? Getting a daughter married to a wealthy 
American definitely has its advantages, and maybe 
using this as leverage for yet other motives. He has 
definitely proven himself a cunning, patient man: he 
sure stood Dad on his ear and that's pretty hard to 
do!" I decided to follow the route of my potential 
adversary: with patience and cunning. I'll meet with 
Mr. Haaseem, and try and use this 'matter close to his 
heart' as a pry bar to try and see what was under his 
proverbial rock. With that, I piled all the veggies in 
the pot, set it to boil, then decided to check out 
what's on the tube. Finding nothing worthwhile on TV, 
I decided to eat and hit the sack early.

I awoke with a start when the alarm went off at 6am. I 
lay there for a minute until my head cleared enough to 
focus, and then started to move. Groggily, I rolled 
out of bed and headed to the bathroom for my morning 
ritual of relief, shower and shave, then got dressed 
for morning prayers.

At the conclusion of my morning prayers, I repeated 
the du'a I had made the evening before, again asking 
for guidance about things and events associated with 
my move to India. Again, when I'd finished I felt a 
strange calm about everything. I cautiously thought to 
myself, "Either Allah IS in total control, or I'm a 
fool walking into the lion's den..." Feeling the pangs 
in my stomach, I headed down to the kitchen for 
something to eat.

Abby, right on time like the old days, was setting a 
plate of eggs and home fries on the table with her 
usually cheery "Hi, sleepy head!" 

I smile and look at her for a moment with a sudden 
fond remembrance and reply, "you're always there for 
me aren't you?" 

"Always am, always will be. Look sweetie, I hate to 
cut you short," talking while removing her apron, "but 
I've got a lot of things to do today, so I better get 
an early start, so if you don't need anything else, 
I'm off. Oh by the way, there's a fresh pot of coffee 
on the counter. Bye, love ya, see you later."

I sat holding my fork, grinned and shook my head and 
said, "Love you too, see you late...r." She was already 
out the door.

My day was pretty much preplanned, namely, packing and 
getting ready for my flight to New Delhi early the 
next morning.

I did several loads of laundry: underwear, socks and a 
lot of casual stuff, folded it and got it packed. I'd 
get a laundry service over there to iron what I wanted 
later. Thankfully, Abby sent a couple of my favorite 
suits to the cleaners and they were hanging in the 
laundry room along with a couple of light weight suits 
I had ordered online, ready to pack. 

With the majority of my packing finished, except for 
some minor last minute things, I said my evening 
prayers, ate a friendly dinner with Abby, discussing 
my future plans, then decided to call Dad with my 
flight arrangements before turning in.

Dialing my Dad's number, the phone rang three times 
when a woman answered, "Hello? Michael's residence."

I asked for my Dad, and the voice on the other end 
responded for me to please wait a moment.

"Sean? Good to hear from ya again. Are ya packed and 
ready to go?

Yeah, Dad, just a few last minute things to put 
together. I called to give you my flight info. I'm 
flying Northwest, but the last leg is handled by KLM. 
I take off from BWI at 7:30am tomorrow, and land in 
New Delhi on Sunday evening at 10:30pm with an 
overnight layover in Amsterdam on Saturday. My flight 
number is 2345. I hope the late hour doesn't pose any 
real problem for you."

No problem, son. Mom and I'll be there to pick you up.
Any last minute jitters?"

Nah, Dad, it's just I hate those long flights. In a 
way though, it'll be a good thing: give me some time 
to think, ya know?"

Well, not to rehash to same thing over again, I'd say 
you've got some thinking to do."

"It won't be that big a deal, Dad. Like I said, don't 
worry about it too much. Everything will work out 
fine."

That remains to be seen. Well, I'll let you go to get 
some rest for the big trek tomorrow. We'll see you at 
the airport, OK son?"

"Sure, Dad. See you Sunday night. Love you, tell Mom I 
love her too, and let the peace of Allah reassure 
yours and Mom's hearts."

"See ya, son, we both love you too. Have a safe trip.
Bye, now."

"Bye Dad."

With that, I went to bed.



 Continued in Chapter 2...
<1st attachment end>


<2nd attachment, "Child_Brides_of_India_2.txt" begin>

Child Brides of India
By C. Stanton Leman

Chapter 2: Best Laid Plans (slow, no sex)

While my Dad and I were discussing his conversation 
with Adib Haaseem on the Thursday before I took off 
for New Delhi, there was another set of events 
happening at the Haaaseem residence in New Delhi...

"Assalamu aliakom," Salima, Adib's wife said when 
answering the phone.

"Wa aliakum asslalm," replied Adib to his wife, "Have 
you been preparing Sarah for the meeting? Praise 
Allah, peace be upon Him, I believe that Sean will 
agree to meet with her, although it may be a little 
awkward because both of the families will be present. 
I still have to await a call from either John or 
Sean."

"Yes, husband, I have Sarah and Priya at the dining 
room table discussing how and what takes place at an 
introduction."

"Why is Priya there?" 

"She is of marriageable age by Islamic law, and she'll 
need to learn this at some point in time. I felt it 
better to explain some of this to her as well, so that 
when the time comes for her, she won't be so shocked 
by the suddenness of it all as with Sarah. What I'm 
teaching them now is just the formalities, the 
gestures, posture, how to speak, reading the man's 
body language: things of that sort.

 Besides, if our hearts are right in this, it's my 
duty as a mother to educate Priya also. This way, 
Priya feels included, even if indirectly, and sees it 
as a mother explaining what lies ahead for both of her 
daughters. Being secretive and paranoid about things 
only invites resentment from her.

Frankly, I don't think Sarah is emotionally and 
mentally mature enough: she's only two years ahead of 
her class, nor does she have the physical presence and 
appearance to attract an American with Sean's 
attributes. She has a fuller figure than most 
Americans like, and she's not as quick witted. When 
she gets nervous, her English also begins to falter. 
If she can't allure him at first glance, I'm afraid 
things will go downhill for her from there."

"Well, Salima, once you get her alone, you need to 
impress upon her that we have diligently searched our 
hearts with Allah's help and believe that we've found 
a suitable husband and lifelong partner for her." 

"Adib, I just hope we're not putting too much pressure 
on Sarah. You know how she gets when she feels she's 
tasked to perform. She needs your reassurance and 
confidence in her abilities. I'm afraid that she kind 
of feels that this is some sort of test she has to 
pass to win our approval -- especially yours. She'll 
likely take a rejection very personally, even if she 
feels she's trusting completely in Allah on the 
outcome."

"Reassure her that all is in Allah's hands, and to be 
at peace with the results Allah presents to her. She 
needs to pray for guidance and dispel her fears. I 
will also do what I can to put her at ease. Your job 
is to assure she knows how to act: chaste and humble. 
Does she realize that we feel that we've found in Sean 
a man capable of fulfilling all of her needs: 
emotional as well as material?"

"Yes, but all of that doesn't matter if he doesn't 
want to pursue her. Any girl, regardless of her faith, 
would take a rejection personally in varying degrees. 
When a girl lays herself open to inspection, who and 
what she is, especially in a room full of people 
watching their every action, and she's rejected -- for 
whatever reason -- that's all she has to offer. She has 
no experience with boys, much less a man... Sean may be 
the right man for her, but if the time isn't right for 
her, Allah, peace be upon Him, may, in His wisdom deny 
your wishes for her."

"That may be true, but I also think Salima, we need to 
help her present her physical flaws in a more pleasing 
manner. Give her less to worry about. What do you 
think?"

"I think you're treading on dangerous ground here. You 
know what the Koran states regarding dress. She's not 
allowed to enhance or accentuate her physical 
appearance: good or bad. It would be like prostituting 
herself. You know very well, if he finds her 
attractive as a person, her physical flaws are 
immaterial."

"I don't mean openly displaying her charms in a 
favorable light, but listen for a moment. For example, 
if we dressed her in a black sari, it would give her a 
slimmer appearance, and it is an acceptable color. 
That's not displaying anything: good or bad. We could 
dress Priya in white, which would make her skin color 
appear darker than it really is. This could draw 
Sean's eyes to Sarah's fairer complexion."

"Adib! I can't believe you just said that! Attempting 
to make either of your daughters 'appear' any other 
way than honestly is a sin! Besides, how could you do 
that to Priya? You'd injure the heart of one child for 
the sake of another? You know how Priya has suffered 
because of this!"

"Look. Although she's darker than you, you found a 
loving husband in spite of your color didn't you?"

"Yes, but my father was as pained as I was because I 
suffered the same indignities as Priya: and still do. 
How can you rationalize your thinking to accommodate 
such a thought! My father took great care to try and 
shield me from it as much as he could. He also took 
great pains to find me a husband that saw past my 
color to see the real person inside. My love for you 
and yours for me had giving me the strength to 
overcome my pain. He would NEVER try to accentuate my 
pain in any way as a means to an end. I feel hurt that 
you'd even suggest this! You need to reconsider this 
carefully."

"You just have to find a way to impress upon her that 
this is Sarah's time: hers will come when Allah and 
her parents feel so moved, and we will try as hard for 
her as we are trying for Sarah. She just needs to 
sacrifice a little for her sister, she'll understand. 
Do as I ask and explain things to her. I'll talk to 
her also.'

"I will do as you ask, and take the girls out tomorrow 
and buy the saris, but there is a bitterness in my 
heart for my child that will NEVER leave until she has 
found a man who will shield her from these 
indignities. You have wounded my heart, Adib, and I 
fear we bring Allah's wrath upon us for this deed."

"What does Sarah have to say about the whole process 
of meeting a man for the possibility of marriage?"

"That's another thing. She feels unsure and a little 
frightened by the suddenness of the whole thing. 
Because of the very 'flaws' that you speak of, she's 
like many girls her age. She not only feels insecure 
about her body, and also her sister's better academic 
achievements, but also in your love for her right now. 
She's thinking you may be trying to 'marry her off,' 
or get rid of her because she's not pleasing in your 
eyes. I've tried to reassure her and reinforce the 
idea that it's because we love her immensely and are 
looking for a lifetime of happiness for her. But the 
more we discuss this, the more I fear she's not 
emotionally ready for the separation from us: and 
especially you. She really does crave your approval 
and love. 

I am also beginning to have doubts about Allah's, 
peace be upon Him, wisdom in this. This should be a 
time of expectation and happiness with a clear 
conscience and conviction that we're doing the right 
thing. I fear that if you try to force these events, 
you'll end up hurting not one, but both of your 
daughter's hearts and drive them away from us. I need 
to find a way, and the strength to try and explain 
your wishes to Priya... I fear I'm about to commit a sin 
against my daughter."

"Don't cry, Salima. Neither child should see any tears 
or confusion from you. I truly believe that I have 
Allah's, peace be upon Him, blessing in this endeavor. 
If things don't work out, we simply continue to look 
for suitable husbands for our daughters. If it's 
ordained to be, then it shall come to pass, don't you 
agree?"

"On that last statement, I do agree. I shall pray and 
encourage the girls to pray also more fervently on 
this matter for guidance, peace and reassurance." 
  
"We still have several days to ease the girl's minds 
and prepare them for the evening. I think you need to 
concentrate on Sarah and her fears. I'll do the same. 
Priya is a very intelligent and empathetic girl, and 
understands her sister's insecurities much more than 
you think she does. She'll be alright."

"Yes! It's her tender and empathetic heart that will 
make this pain all the worse! You're asking her to 
verify all the indignities to advance her 'fairer' 
sister's cause! It shall be on your heart if she's 
hurt by all of this."

"I'll be home tomorrow evening by 6, and we'll have a 
nice family meal together, and put things in their 
proper perspective. OK?"

"Fine. But I have to tell you, I'll do what I can, but 
you'll bear the brunt of making this right. I am 
slowly loosing my conviction, and being as close as I 
am to them, I'm not sure I can truly hide my feelings. 
How this all turns out may have an effect on our 
relationship... I hope you know that."

"Salima. We've been married for 18 years. I love you 
and my family more than life itself. In all those 
years, have I done anything to put any member of my 
family in jeopardy? Would I drive a wedge between us? 
Do you really believe that?"
 
"No, not consciously, but sometimes, in our desire to 
do the right thing, we can set into motion a chain of 
events we can no longer control, and with unexpected 
consequences. This is all I'm saying. Be absolutely 
certain of your motives: if they're pure, all will 
work out. If you try to force the will of Allah, we 
can spent the rest of our lives in painful repentance 
to no avail." 

"I love you Salima. I'll see you and the girls 
tomorrow evening. Assalamu aliakom."

 "Wa aliakum asslalm. I love you too."

After evening prayers and further discussion with the 
girls over dinner, some of it fraught with tears and 
pleadings followed by reassurances of love and 
support, the three of them retired early, each to her 
own prayers and supplications.

After morning prayers and breakfast, the three headed 
to the seamstress to purchase Sarah and Priya's saris.

Sarah's would be a black sari with the pallu trimmed 
in gold, with a black petticoat and choli, finished 
off with black beaded slippers. Priya's would be white 
with a pallu trimmed in light blue with a petticoat, 
choli and beaded slippers of powder blue.

(NOTE: I later learned these terms, but a sari is one 
continuous piece of material of 5-6 yards. Underneath, 
a skirt called a petticoat is worn which is waist-to-
ankle length, and tied at the waist with a drawstring 
along with a blouse or choli. The long choli extends 
to the waist, where a short choli ends right below the 
bust. The sari is worn by tucking in the plain end 
onto the petticoat at the right hip, and a number of 
pleats are made and folded. These pleats are tucked 
into the petticoat using the naval as a center, 
wrapping the fabric again around the waist and then 
draping the fabric over the left shoulder. This draped 
material and remaining material becomes the pallu. The 
remaining material can then be either wrapped under 
the right armpit or over the shoulder, wrapped around 
the back, over the left shoulder (or used as a head 
covering), and the remainder draped around the bust 
over the right arm. It can be wrapped to either hide 
or accentuate the figure. Sorry for the interruption.) 

Both girls were excited about buying such beautifully 
detailed dress saris, but at the same time, quietly 
subdued. Each knew the significance of the choice of 
colors, and while Sarah was thankful for the 
flattering color, she guiltily felt what was on 
Priya's mind.

Priya was outwardly as happy as she could bring 
herself to be. She felt, however, betrayed by her 
father's actions, and tried to hide the sting in her 
heart.

Salima looked at Priya and thought, "Oh, my dear 
child! Your eyes cannot hide what your smile tries to 
cover. I know all too well your pain, and I pray to 
Thee, O Allah, my strength and my hope: Please turn my 
child's pain to joy, let her heart be quieted by Your 
gentle reassurance."

With purchases in hand, they all returned home to 
await Adib's return for dinner and discussion. 



Continued in chapter 3... 
<2nd attachment end>


<3rd attachment, "Child_Brides_of_India_3.txt" begin>

Child Brides of India Ch 3
By C. Stanton Leman

Chapter3: Arrival: Advice and Consent (slow, no sex)

I was one of the last to clear airport customs. Mom and 
Dad were there, waiting for me with smiles, hugs and 
kisses all around. We got my luggage loaded in the 
limo and headed for what was now to be my new home.

We first talked of inconsequential things: the house 
back home, the end of college, my unexpected 'cultural 
learning curve' sabbatical, and the upcoming 
challenges I might face in a few months. Then, my dad 
broke the ice about our earlier conversation.

"Well, son, have you given any thought to what you'll 
do about that matter we discussed?"

My Mom jumped in and said, "John. First off, we're all 
family here: there's no need to be so cryptic. Second, 
why not let him get home and settled in before 
discussing anything specific. Let's have this 
conversation in more comfortable surroundings when we 
have time to devote to the issue."

"Thanks, Mom," I replied, "But to give you the short 
of it, I have given it some thought and prayer, and 
I'd like to get some advice from an Imam about what my 
duties and responsibilities are during the meeting 
with Adib, and the 'introduction,' if I choose to 
agree to it. 

I believe there is a type of protocol or decorum that 
is required, and what do I do about my decision 
afterwards -- either way. There's just so much I'm not 
clear about, and I don't want to offend anyone, or 
worse, not correctly follow the teachings of Islam in 
this matter. Does that make any sense?"

"Makes perfect sense, son," my Dad said cutting in, 
"You need to get all the information you think you 
need to make an informed decision. I just regret that 
I've put you in this position."

"Good!" My Mom chimed in, "Now we can put off 
arranging our son's wedding to another day, and I can 
have him for a couple of days all to myself!" 

"Gosh, Mom, you're sure taking this pretty lightly 
aren't ya?"

"No, in a way, it's kinda exciting to actually see the 
workings of other cultures first hand, especially 
where women are concerned, but in another, I guess 
it's my way of coping with a strange situation that 
could affect all our lives. Don't let the humor fool 
ya: your happiness is my first and only concern."

"That's why, Mom, I want to get this right the first 
time. IF and when I do decide to marry, I'll have to 
follow Islamic precepts to do so: no matter whether I 
marry here or anywhere else." 

We'd pretty much talked the topic out for the time 
being, and I began asking mom about her cultural 
excursions and spending spree. Soon, we were pulling 
up to the house, and me to a chance to work off the 
jet lag in a real bed.

After recuperating a few days, and acclimated myself 
to the time difference, I used the services of my 
Dad's Indian secretary in an attempt to set up an 
appointment with the Imam of the Jama Masjiid mosque, 
the largest mosque in India, which also happens to be 
in New Delhi. It took her several days, but she was 
able to arrange for me to meet with him through a 
Muslim translator that Thursday, two days hence.

I arrived at the mosque in time for evening prayers, 
and afterwards, with a Muslim colleague of my father's 
translating, the Imam and I made our introductions, 
and so we began our meeting.

"Assalamu aliakom," I spoke as I placed my hands 
together in front of me and slightly bowed... I hope 
this is correct, I wondered.

"Wa aliakum asslalm," he replied with a smile, and 
with that, he extended his hand, which I shook 
respectfully.

He, seeing my apprehension as to how to start, quietly 
began, "I understand you are a new convert to Islam, 
and would like to discuss a matter of concern to you. 
Praise be to Allah, peace be upon Him. You are seeking 
direction regarding the correct practice of courtship 
and marriage according to Islamic law, is this so?"

"I think so, Imam," I replied, I then went on to 
repeat, in detail, the conversation I'd had with my 
father regarding Mr. Haaseem's proposal for an 
'introduction' to his daughter. I also explained what 
my understanding of the custom as I had related to my 
dad. I then asked him, "Is this a formal request by 
him to meet and consider his daughter as a possible 
bride?"

"Yes, it is," he replied. "Matters such as these are 
spoken of politely and indirectly as a matter of 
custom. Otherwise, it might be taken in offense. It is 
important to understand that during conversations such 
as these, respect is shown to all persons concerned: 
especially the woman. If she's a virgin of legal age 
or not, she's usually never present at the father's 
first request, and sometimes neither is the intended 
male suitor. Many times, these initial requests are 
made between the fathers of the intended couple. I 
take it from the events you've just explained she's a 
believer?"

"Yes, Imam, She is from a Muslim family. Mr. Haaseem 
has requested to meet with me personally (through my 
father). Is this because I'm of legal adult age and 
have the right to make my own decisions?"

"The first step is verified in that it's preferable 
that you marry a Muslim. You must remember, my son, 
that legal age in Islamic law doesn't necessarily mean 
fully grown. In Islamic law, when a boy reaches 15 
years of age, or becomes sexually potent, he is 
considered a man. But there is also the concept of 
Rashd, which is translated as "a mature ability 
towards sensible conduct." This is to insure that he 
is capable of maturely discharging his duties as a 
husband and to his family. For the girl, the term 
Rashidah means the same thing. The normal acceptable 
minimum age, in Islamic law, for a virgin girl is, by 
interpretation, to be 8, or having reached puberty 
with menarche being the indicator. At that age, she 
must still be able to demonstrate a certain level 
Rashidah. If she demonstrates the maturity to consent, 
with her guardian's consent, to marriage, and being 
able to know what it means and to consent to 
consummation of the marriage, it is a valid marriage 
contract" 

Now, it was MY turn to be shocked, as I interjected, 
"Are these marriages actually legal in India? Isn't 
this a form of pedophilia? How can a child of 8, who 
still plays with toys, have the mental and emotional 
maturity to properly examine the consequences of such 
a decision on her life?"

After a moment of silence (I guess to calm the 
conversation), he began again. "Each case is 
different, as are people. And yes, Indian law 
recognizes many of these marriages. Although the usual 
norm is to marry someone more to one's own age, there 
are parents who arrange marriages for their virgin 
daughters at an early age. In any event, the girl must 
consent, or the marriage contract is invalid." 

"What do I do if this girl, Sarah, falls into this 
category?"

"Then each man decides for himself. If the girl's age 
is unacceptable to you, then terminate any further 
meetings. If she does demonstrate maturity beyond her 
years, then look at her qualities more critically, 
because people, especially the young, change over 
time."

"God forbid, that I be attracted to a child..."

"Whatever her age, Allah, peace be upon Him, has your 
bride handpicked, and will present her to you when He 
deems all is ready to be ordained."

"So, what questions may I ask the father concerning 
the girl in order to decide on meeting her?"

"Let us back up for a moment," the Imam said looking 
at me seriously, "Are you considering taking a wife? 
Have you prayed about this? Or is this a matter that 
has been thrust upon you by the girl's father by his 
request?"

"That's part of my problem," I said. I then went into 
detail about the prayers and supplications I'd made 
regarding my coming to India, my new job and any 
direction these events may take my life, and the 
feeling of peace that I'd experienced after praying. I 
also went on to tell him that I'd prayed about this 
meeting and introduction and what it might bring, and 
again, I had no misgivings or feelings of negativity 
about any of it. In light of this, I interpreted my 
feelings as Allah having not yet revealed His will for 
me, but had no fear of agreeing to the idea. I just 
needed guidance on how to properly proceed according 
to Muslim law.

"If what you're telling me is true, I'd say, after 
meeting with her father, and you are satisfied by your 
initial inquiries that she is acceptable for you to 
meet, then meet the girl. It may be that Allah, peace 
be upon Him, has a help-mate for you in your new 
journey."

"Alright then," I went on, "Again, what questions may 
I ask the father concerning the girl in order to 
decide on meeting with her?"

"General questions, such as, her name and age. You may 
ask general questions as to her physical appearance 
such as height, does she have any physical or mental 
deformities. Her health: can she bear children? But do 
not ask pointed questions about physical appearance so 
as to determine her physical desirability, how do you 
in the west say, her sexiness: this is forbidden.

Most important is her other qualities: how strong is 
her faith? Is she of strong character: can she act in 
your best interests, forsaking her family in deference 
to her husband? Is she good-natured? How well does she 
get along with her siblings? Her parents? With others? 
Is she family oriented? What of her schooling and 
education? When you talk to her, does she seem like 
you and she would be compatible: is she easy to talk 
to? Can you talk freely to each other or is it 
strained? Is she prone to secrets? It is a sin to 
mislead or lie to each other.

Islam considers marriage a holy contract, and not to 
be taken or entered into lightly. By evaluating the 
qualities of a woman for marriage, you must ask 
yourself, does she possess the qualities that are 
complimentary to mine that will ensure a lifelong 
partnership."

"I see," I replied while trying to digest all he'd 
said, "And what if I feel we have no 'connection:' not 
so much a physical one, but a mental and emotional 
connection that sees qualities she might possess that 
are yet to be revealed by getting to know her better?"

"Then, compliment her in the name of Allah, and 
truthfully tell her that you feel it is not meant for 
you to be her husband. Women are fragile creatures, 
and as such, you are admonished to be kind and gentle 
to her, and show her respect; even though she may feel 
rejected, that pain is far less than an unhappy 
marriage. 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."

"What if we make that 'connection,' and we're both 
moved to get better acquainted?" 

"Your understanding of Muslim courtship is correct. 
The Prophet Mohammad, peace be upon Him, has stated 
"Not one of you shall meet a woman alone unless she is 
accompanied by a relative." The Prophet, peace be upon 
Him, also said, "Whenever a man is alone with a woman, 
Satan is the third among them." These admonishments 
are to prevent lust from being a factor. We must 
always follow the commands in the Koran, which tells 
couples to "lower their gaze and protect their 
modesty." This may be evidenced by the girl only 
glancing at you momentarily, and not looking you 
directly in the eyes for any length time. Both of you 
are to look at each other with a critical eye, not a 
lustful one.

If both of you wish to continue, want to know each 
other better, and start the 'courtship' phase, then 
the two of you can arrange to meet, in the presence of 
one of her relatives to talk and spend time together 
for the purpose of getting to know each other better, 
but it will always be chaperoned.

If the two of you are seriously considering a possible 
marriage, you both should seek Allah, peace be upon 
Him, for help, guidance and peace before proceeding, 
this is done by praying a prayer for guidance. It is 
called the salat-l-istikhara. I will send the text of 
it to you. Then, if both agree, they pursue the final 
steps toward marriage.

I believe I've given you enough direction as to how to 
proceed -- either way, for the immediate future. If and 
when the time comes, we can meet again and discuss the 
procedures for Nikah, or the actual marriage contract 
and ceremony. Go in peace, and all praise and honor be 
to Allah, the Knower of all unknown, be your strength 
and guidance. Assalamu aliakom."

"Thank you, Imam, for your time and guidance. Wa 
aliakum asslalm." With that, we parted and I made my 
way home, contemplating all that had transpired these 
past seven days.

Both of my parents must have been anxiously awaiting 
my return. They were sitting in the study, stating 
that they'd held dinner until I got home. With that 
said, we headed to the dining room to eat.

Dinner began uncomfortably quiet, but again, it was my 
father that broke the silence.

"Well? Are you going to say something, or do we have 
to pull it out of you?"

Mom looked at Dad, and then placing her hand on his, 
she said, "John, calm down. He'll speak when he's 
ready. I think we already have an idea what he's going 
to say anyway."

"Mom, Dad, I'd like to discuss this in more detail 
after dinner, but I've decided to meet with Adib and 
meet Sarah."

My mother, trying to relieve some of the tension said, 
"There now, it's all out in the open. Now can we have 
a nice, friendly family meal?"

My father didn't look so accepting. With a cryptic 
look on his face as if contemplating for a moment, 
slightly nodded, smiled and said, "Sure."

After a somewhat more relaxed dinner, thanks to Mom 
(the perpetual mediator), babbling on about her 
delving into Indian and Muslim culture. She said that 
she had needed to learn more about her son's faith and 
new lifestyle.

After dinner, Dad asked the maid to serve coffee in 
the study, where we then proceeded. Dad sat behind his 
desk, Mom on the couch, and I sat in an armchair, 
turning it so I was semi-facing them both.

I sat for a moment collecting my thoughts, then began... 
"Dad, I know you somehow feel responsible for all of 
this, and you're obviously concerned: both about 
meeting with Adib, and with his daughter. First of 
all, it's not the end of the world. Second, I know you 
feel a little 'betrayed?' by your friend -- is that the 
right word? Anyway, I've prayed about it, thought 
about it, sought the advice of the Imam, and I feel a 
strange calmness about the whole thing. I'm not 
shocked, frightened, or put off by any of it. 

Without trying to sound too religious or pious about 
things, only God knows what the future holds: for me, 
my family, my future, and also for Adib and HIS 
family. I do know that I haven't had any heartfelt 
feeling that this is a bad thing: either religiously 
or personally, to do. Try to put yourself in Adib's 
shoes. If you felt something or some action on your 
part was in my or our family's best interest, you'd 
probably do the same thing: no matter how strange it 
may seem to anyone else. Right? So try not to be too 
hard on your friend."

I went on to retell of my meeting with the Imam, and 
without repeating word for word, told them that the 
Imam said that it was a plea on Adib's part to meet 
with Sarah for the consideration of possible marriage. 
I also told my parents that simply meeting for the 
first time is only the first step, and that many of 
these introductions don't go any further, and that 
both the man and woman must agree to all the steps 
along the way.

My mother looked at Dad, then at me, then back at Dad. 
I guessed that she was chomping at the bit to say 
something, but was deferring to my father to make the 
first comment.

Dad, rocked back in his chair, and began. "I've given 
this a lot of thought, and there are a lot of 'what 
ifs' about the whole thing. For example, 'what if' 
she's a minor? What's her age? They marry girls -- even 
children here. Their customs are not ours. They view 
these things differently. 'What if' she's still in 
school? Do you want to get involved with a schoolgirl?
Would a marriage like this be recognized as legal back 
in the States? 'What if' she being coerced in some way 
to get married? 'What if' you and this girl 'hit it 
off' and decided to... what do you call it -- court. 
How's this going to affect the real reason why you're 
here: namely, to run a company... or have you forgotten 
that?" 

"Whoa, dad, slow down, you're starting to 
hyperventilate! Let's take things one at a time. You 
seem to forget that even though I'm a college graduate 
with a PhD, I'm still only 18 years old. If she's say, 
16 or 17, that's still an acceptable age range for 
dating and marriage in the US. If she's younger, I'm 
not sure what US law is regarding such marriages, but 
I do know that the US government usually recognizes a 
legal marriage made in a foreign country by an 
American as being legal. 

As to her being a schoolgirl, if she IS 16 or 17, she 
will still be in school, as would probably an older 
girl because she'd be attending college. College 
students marry all the time."

Now for the shock part... I went on to explain what the 
Imam had revealed to me regarding Islamic 
interpretation of legal age and requirements, the 
conditions of 'a mature ability toward sensible 
conduct' towards marriage by both parties, and how 
that might apply to a very young girl. Finally, about 
the need for the girl's consent for a valid marriage 
contract. Also, that these marriages were recognized 
as legal in Indian secular law. Once I finished these 
revelations, I waited for the hammer to drop...

All I saw were open mouths, and silence.

Mom spoke first. "What if this girl is 8 or 9? What 
will you do then? What if she's 11 or 12?"

I looked at both of them and said, "Having those 
examples to deal with, not having yet met the girl, 
I'd decline an introduction. I cannot imagine a 
scenario where I'd pursue a girl of that age: and it 
makes me shudder to think of a child of 8 in any 
intimate context. If she were, say, 11 or 12, she'd 
have to be my equal, in the sense of being very 
mentally and emotionally advanced in education, 
interaction with older peers, and a history of 
demonstrated ability to adapt in an adult environment. 
I'm using myself as a gauge: does that make any sense? 
If I am, at 18, considered in the eyes of older peers--
you, Dad, being one, is old enough to run a company, 
then there are certainly young women who have the same 
abilities as I: don't you both agree?" 

Not waiting for an answer, I continued, "Look, let's 
put this age issue to rest for our purposes: if Sarah 
is below the age of 16, which is only 2 years my 
junior, I will not proceed with an introduction as 
Adib has requested. Having said that, she'd still have 
to demonstrate maturity beyond 16 in order for us to 
be compatible anyway. I see no problem meeting him or 
his family in a purely social setting such as a dinner 
or a public function. Does that alleviate your fears?" 

Dad then spoke up. "OK, son. I agree with what you 
said about the age issue. I guess everything will now 
hinge on what Adib has to say about his daughter."

Mom kinda lowered her head and mumbled something that 
dad and I could make out, and dad asked, "What is it 
you have to say: get it all out now, or you give up 
the right to bitch about it later. Come on, out with 
it!"

Mom looked at the ceiling, as if for inspiration, then 
looking at each of us in turn began: "Not all of my 
'excursions,' as you call them, John, have been 
cultural. Because I was an educator, and Sean's 
teacher, I have also been observing their educational 
system here also. One fact stands out, and that is, 
there are an awful lot of kids, boys AND girls, that 
are like Sean: pure geniuses. A lot of these kids put 
ours to shame! 

I was just remembering this, and thinking, that 
meeting a girl such as Sean describes is within the 
real realm of possibility here. What if, by the will 
of God, or Allah, or whatever Higher Power that's 
controlling our lives, were to put Sean in such a 
position. I mean, with the right girl, say 11 or 12, 
at the right time, and their hearts connect: what 
then? Do we dismiss those same qualities that we hold 
so special in Sean simply because she's a girl?" Her 
voice was slowly gaining volume and force while she 
continued her diatribe, "Were we right in our duties 
as parents to allow Sean to grow up, assume 
responsibility for his actions and decisions at such 
an early age? And what now? He's 18 and going to run a 
company! Your company! Is he more responsible because 
he's YOUR son?" Having finished, she relaxed and sat 
back putting her hands in her lap.

With that, I looked at Dad, who was chewing the inside 
of his cheek, and back at Mom, who had an imploring 
look on her face waiting for his response. I wanted to 
hear what Dad's answer to that would be, and I wasn't 
about to put MY two cents in ... not just yet. 

He looked at Mom, and slightly turned his head as if 
to work out a kink, then replied softly, "When the 
hell did you become an advocate of child marriage? 
Laying the love issue aside, there are real legal 
ramifications to consider here! What if the US doesn't 
recognize such a marriage: could he be prosecuted in 
the US? These questions will need answers if this kind 
of scenario comes to light. Legalese aside, what you 
say is true about recognizing the same qualities in 
someone other than Sean, but I have to say, she'd have 
to be pretty damn special for me to go along, or even 
consider it!"

I guessed it was time for me to put in my 'two cents' 
worth, so a said calmly, "I agree with you Mom, in 
that, although you and Dad are Baptist, and I'm 
Muslim, we all agree that God's will for us is unknown 
to us except the day we're living in. Yes, anything 
under the sun is possible, though not very probable. I 
don't know what God has in store for me, I just trust 
in my faith: isn't that what you've both taught me? I 
believe we've covered the 'what ifs,' pretty well, but 
the purpose of this discussion, I believe, has come 
full circle. As I said at dinner, I've decided to meet 
with Adib, and discuss Sarah, and I'll try to get as 
much information about her as I feel is necessary to 
make a decision. There's one guideline we all agree 
on, and that's if she's under 16, the deal's off. 
Agreed?"

Mom said, "Agreed."

Dad's reply was "Amen to that."

I then looked at Dad and said, "Now for the next step: 
give Mr. Haaseem a call, and set up some time to meet. 
I'd appreciate it if you'd to be there also."

"I wouldn't miss this for the world!"

"OK Dad, make the call." With that, Mom and I both 
rose, and started to leave the room. When we reached 
the doorway of the study, I turned to close the door, 
and I could hear my Dad say, "Hello Adib? Yes, it's 
me, John..." 



Continued in chapter 4...
<3rd attachment end>


<4th attachment, "Child_Brides_of_India_4.txt" begin>

Child Brides of India Ch 4
By C. Stanton Leman

Chapter 4: Meeting Adib (slow, no sex)

Last night, after my meeting with the Imam at the Jama 
Masjiid mosque, and a heated discussion after dinner 
with my parents, my Dad called Adib Haaseem to arrange 
the long debated and awaited meeting between Mr. 
Haaseem, my father and I to discuss the 
'introduction,' as it was now called, between Adib's 
daughter, Sarah and I. 

Because the 'Sabbath,' for lack of a better word, for 
Muslims is Friday, we agreed to meet Saturday morning 
at 10am here, at our home in Dad's study. He did 
request that my mother not be present, because these 
matters were customarily handled between men. My mom 
was a little insulted, but acquiesced, deferring to 
Islamic tradition.

Dad said that Mr. Haaseem was elated, praised Allah 
for answering his prayers, would pray for a cordial 
'meeting of the minds,' and would see us promptly at 
ten on Saturday. This gave us a full day's respite 
tomorrow which my mother proclaimed as a 'mother/son 
day' to begin after morning prayers and breakfast. My 
father said that was fine, he had business matters to 
attend to anyway.

It was the middle of June, and the weather was warm 
and humid. New Delhi, like many other ancient Asian 
cities, has the juxtaposition of ancient and modern 
architecture in close proximity. It is, in a lot of 
places, dirty, dusty and filled with throngs of people 
going about their daily lives. We started out our day 
by seeing a couple of Hindu temples, had a pleasant 
lunch at a sidewalk caf�, and visited a few shopping 
bazaars.

While we were walking in a local park, my mother got 
quiet all of a sudden. We stopped to sit for a moment, 
and she looked at me and smiled. She placed her palm 
to the side of my cheek and said, "I fear I'm going to 
loose you to this strange and mysterious land... 

You know... you're my single most precious contribution 
to this world. You, my son, are my greatest 
accomplishment in life! 

I know that your father helped mold you, along with 
your incredible mind and education, but I gave you 
life. You are of my flesh. I can sometimes actually 
feel what you think and feel. I know you better than 
anyone, and I'll always be there for you: always.

I feel something is going to happen to change our 
lives forever. I don't know what, but for some strange 
reason, I strangely feel a calm about it. Maybe it's 
silly women's intuition gone awry, I don't know... just 
a feeling is all." With that, she wiped a tear from 
her cheek, composed herself and looked at me with a 
smile.

Softly wiping away an errant tear from her cheek with 
my finger, I said lovingly, "Mom? I don't know what to 
say, except that I love you. With all the outward 
appearances of a confident brainiac, I have 
insecurities that I couldn't have dealt with if it 
hadn't been for your understanding and support. No 
matter what happens here, or anywhere else in the 
world, I know you will always be there for me and I 
for you, if I can. I love you mother, I deeply, deeply 
love you." 

On the way home, our conversation in the park wasn't 
mentioned again as talk returned to the exotic sites, 
sounds and surroundings.

Upon arriving home, I showered and prayed my evening 
prayers with all the special supplications for the 
events to follow. I went to the study, where mom and 
dad were watching a movie, told them I wanted to 
retire early, and went to bed.

Restless, I laid awake thinking of Sarah, and what she 
must be going through. At 18, I have a lot of 
insecurities when it comes to meeting women, and she's 
undoubtedly feeling the same, if not more. I then 
decided to ask Adib for a 'variance' in the actual 
method of our introduction, if there was one. I would 
suggest that instead of the two of us going off to a 
corner of the room, within earshot of all present, 
that we take a more informal, less stressful approach 
and work the verbal 'feeling each other out' into the 
normal, casual conversation normally encountered in a 
social setting. In this way, I could gauge her 
demeanor and carriage in an adult environment, along 
with social and verbal skill. It might also alleviate 
some of her tension and stress level--it wouldn't hurt 
mine either.

After my morning ablutions and prayers, I donned a 
business suit, and then went downstairs to awaiting 
parents for breakfast. Dad, being more nervous than 
either my mom or I, was rambling on about staying 
calm, keeping your cool, not making rash decisions 
under emotional stress, and on, and on... My mom finally 
said "John. Shut the hell up and eat your breakfast!" 

Shortly before ten, I asked my father to let me take 
the lead and do most of the talking. I continued by 
saying that he could sit back, watch the dynamic and 
critique me later. This initial interaction would have 
a direct bearing on what tone our future working 
relationship might take on, and he agreed. 

Mr. Haaseem arrived promptly at ten, ringing the 
doorbell. I walked behind my father to the door to 
formally greet the man I'd met for the first time over 
a year ago in Washington, D. C.

We exchanged greetings, handshakes, and all the other 
pleasantries of etiquette, and then proceeded to the 
study. Dad asked Pita, our maid, to bring a pot of 
tea.

Mr. Haaseem was as I remembered him. He had a 
wheatish, ruddy complexion, not too tall: maybe 5' 
10", and carried a little weight on him with a slight 
stomach, probably about 190 pounds. Slightly balding, 
he had black, wavy hair that was starting to grey at 
the temples. He was personable with a warm, friendly 
smile that came easily.

Standing next to him, in contrast, my father stands 6' 
4" tall, an average Caucasian complexion, medium brown 
hair speckled with grey throughout, and maybe 220 
pounds with a solid - not heavy, but solid frame. 

We sat, dad on one end of the sofa, Adib on the other 
end, with me in an armchair between and facing the 
two. My father broke the awkward silence of waiting to 
see who'd begin by saying, "Well Adib, here we are: 
you, me and Sean, just as you requested. Before we go 
any further, I make one request of you, my friend, be 
completely open, honest and forthright in this matter--
just like we do in business. I know this is, using 
your own words, 'a matter close to your heart,' but I 
feel the time for subtlety is over. Let's discuss this 
with open hearts, open minds, and open communication. 
Don't you agree?"

"Yes, John," Adib began, "I agree. I first must 
apologize for the way I approached the matter. I was 
thinking more about our custom, and not properly 
considering your customs in these matters. I should 
have approached you in a more understanding way, and 
again, I apologize. 

We have been friends a long time, and regardless of 
the outcome this morning, we, I hope will continue to 
be good friends. Sean, you are new to my country and 
the business, and my feelings toward you are the same 
as toward your father. I have great respect and 
admiration for you, otherwise I wouldn't have even 
considered making such a request of you."

I began, "Mr. Haaseem--"

He cut quickly cut me off saying "Adib. Call me Adib."

"Adib," I began again, " just so there's no 
misunderstanding culturally or otherwise, please tell 
me exactly why you want me to meet Sarah, and what do 
you hope will come of our meeting?"

"Again Sean, I apologize for abruptly raising the 
issue, but in all openness, I would hope that your 
meeting Sarah might lead to a courtship and possibly 
marriage."

"Good!" My Dad said. "Now it's truly out in the open."

I started again, "I think I have a pretty good sense 
as to why you may feel that I might, in some way, be a 
compatible spouse for your daughter, since you've had 
the advantage of 'following my progress.' Anyway, I 
have no such knowledge of Sarah, and I feel that 
today's discussion is for me to basically get a sense 
for who Sarah is. Am I correct in saying so?"

"Yes, it is."

"Before I proceed, if I make a mistake, or offend you 
in any way, please forgive me. Even though I've met 
with an Imam for instruction and guidance on these 
procedures, if I err, it is unintentional."

"I'm sure you'll be guided by Allah's wisdom, peace be 
upon Him," Adib replied.

"Let's just talk generally about Sarah. How old is 
she, and if she's still in school, what grade is she 
in?"

"Sarah is 16, She's an advanced student, she will 
finish high school this year." With that, I glanced at 
my father, and I could see a sigh of relief on his 
face.

"So, what little I know of the Indian grade structure, 
that means she's about 2 years advanced academically?"

"Yes, that's right."

"What I'd like for you to do now, is simply talk about 
your daughter as if your talking to a new friend, and 
being the proud parent, explaining how you feel about 
her and the qualities she has that make you so proud 
of her. If I want to ask a question, I'll jump in. 
That way our time together won't seem so much like a 
question/answer session similar to a police 
interrogation. By doing things this way, I feel that 
we're treating Sarah with more respect, and not so 
much like something to be 'negotiated.' Don't you 
agree?"

"You are most kind, and I thank you for thinking of 
her so graciously. Now, where to begin?"

"Just talk about Sarah."

"Well... Sarah is my first born of two daughters. She's 
16, had a good mind and is an excellent student that 
gets high marks at school, is 2 years advanced in her 
studies, and she will graduate this year from 
secondary high school. She's about 5' 6" tall with 
dark brown, shoulder length hair, warm, friendly brown 
eyes. Although she is of a... fuller figure, she's not 
what you would call heavy: maybe, how do you say it, 
athletic perhaps? 

Sarah is close to all in her family, does her chores 
and helps her mother willingly and without complaint 
She's a good natured, quiet girl who is pious, humble, 
and chaste. She has not been allowed to 'date,' as you 
call it, but has several girl friends. As you may well 
know, being younger than her classmates, she is 
somewhat shy. This is one of the reasons I have 
considered you because you are acquainted with such 
feelings."

With that, I motioned that I wanted to ask a question. 
"How well does Sarah interact with her older, fellow 
students and adults? Does she accompany you and your 
wife to adult social functions, such as the one where 
you and I first met?" 

Adib replied, "As I said, she is somewhat shy, but 
adapts and makes an attempt to fit into her 
surroundings, and yes, she has accompanied my wife and 
I to several functions."

"And how does she fit in at these types of functions, 
and more immediately, how comfortable with a situation 
like the one we're here to discuss?"

"She is somewhat... reserved. By that I mean, she 
sometimes finds it awkward to inject herself in 
conversation. Let me say in all honestly, that this 
may very well be a result of our faith, which 
encourages a women to defer to males, other adults 
unknowingly overlooking her because of her age, and 
unfortunately, here in India, women are usually more 
passive in conversation: especially when men are 
present. To be specific about the two of you meeting, 
my guess, as her father, would be that she's a little 
apprehensive. Not because of being around adults, it's 
just that she understands that this will be the first 
time she actually will be having one-on-one 
conversation with a male, and possibly discussing 
matters that reveal more of a personal side of 
herself."

"I see. Do you know her feelings about meeting a 
possible spouse? By that I mean, has she prayed about 
this? Is she ready, do you feel, for this, or is it a 
situation where she is following your advice because 
you feel I'm the right person at the right time in her 
life, and by custom, the parents are usually the ones 
to take the lead in these matters?"

'Yes, she has prayed: both in solitude and with my 
wife concerning this matter. As with all parents who 
have discussions with their children of matters that 
are of an intimate manner, Salima, my wife, has 
lovingly explained the reasons and process every 
Muslim girl goes through to become acquainted with and 
joined to a man for lifelong marriage. Sarah is also 
aware that, with her entering the concluding years of 
her education, it is time for her to consider these 
matters in her life."

Adib paused, as if waiting for my comment. I then 
leaned forward in my chair a little with my hands 
clasped together and said, "I'd like to ask you a few 
final questions, and then, possibly a few observations 
and comments and I'd like you to be painfully honest. 
OK?"

Looking me straight in the eyes, he replied, "I will 
do my best."

"Alright then." I began again, "If you were to go home 
today, and tell Sarah that I didn't wish to proceed 
with a meeting for the purpose of a possible marriage, 
how do you think she'll feel? What do you anticipate 
her reaction to be?"

"You are candidly asking me to reveal her weaknesses 
aren't you"

He knew what I was asking. How will she deal with an 
adult topic, for the first time concerning a man; with 
the adult reality of life that comes with rejection? 
My thoughts genuinely turned to Sarah.  I vowed to be 
kind and respectful of Sarah, regardless of what I 
wanted to know, so I replied, "Believe it or not, I am 
thinking of her mental and emotional welfare. I THINK 
I may understand what she might feel, this being her 
first experience with the process of courtship and 
marriage, but I'd like to hear it from one who knows 
her heart."

With this, Adib eased a little in his chair and said, 
"You are a kind and gracious man, and my respect and 
admiration of you is increased ten-fold. To answer you 
frankly, I believe that a rejection today would be 
harder for her to bear. I say this because Sarah might 
feel that she hasn't been given the opportunity for 
you to really see her as a person, and then, having 
had a glimpse of one another, deciding that it was not 
in Allah's will, peace be upon Him, for any further 
relationship." 

"Adib, I thank you for your candor. I feel I have 
enough information to make some decisions. Before you 
jump to any conclusions, let me finish what I have to 
say, alright?"

"Yes, I understand."

"Let me begin by saying, that unfortunately, I do not 
believe that Sarah and I would make a very compatible 
couple, and here's why. Although Sarah is two years 
advanced in school, we are nowhere close to being 
academically compatible. Being only two years younger 
than her peers, this should not, in my experience, 
pose any real alienation from them. In America, boys 
and girls of this age range are more than capable of 
meeting as relative equals both academically and 
socially. The insecurity she is experiencing may 
simply be she lacks the confidence to inject herself 
to demonstrate her equality with them.

As for dealing with adults, you are aware that a 
person, regardless of age, has to WANT to participate 
in social interaction if they are to be acknowledged 
and included. Since I will be taking over my father's 
assets here in India, I will need a spouse who can 
show a maturity--regardless of her age--to stand on her 
own in these adult social settings and contribute to 
her husband's endeavors.

Having said that, I vowed to myself, and made a 
promise to Allah, peace be upon Him, that I would 
genuinely look upon Sarah as a person, and treat her 
with the dignity and respect one should give a woman 
of faith.

In keeping with these promises, I will agree to your 
family's introduction of Sarah and I for a couple of 
reasons. First, I truly believe that you feel Allah, 
peace be upon Him, has moved your heart to be where 
we, meaning your family and mine and specifically 
Sarah and I, are at this point in time. For that 
reason, Sarah may feel this way also, I don't know if 
she feels Allah, praise be to Him, has led her heart 
in this direction also. If she feels so moved, she 
may, at our meeting, with God's help, exhibit a 
strength, maturity and decisiveness that she hasn't 
before displayed. Who can know the will of Allah, 
peace be upon Him? Finally, I'll treat Sarah as a 
person, with respect and not dismiss her as we would a 
business proposition that should be shelved. With that 
said, unless we, meaning you, your wife, my parents 
and I can see the movement of God's hand in all of 
this, there will, in my opinion, be no courtship or 
marriage. Does this seem fair and reasonable to you?"

"Again, Sean, My heart soars with admiration and 
respect for you in this matter. You have clearly shown 
a maturity and sensitivity beyond your years. You have 
endeared a lifelong friend in me."

I smiled and looking at my father, who up to this 
point had surprisingly kept absolutely quiet, smiled 
also. I know what he was thinking: a win/win for 
everybody.

To finish up, I again began. "Now that we've agreed to 
an introduction, I have a favor to ask of you, dear 
friend."

Adib smiling, said, "If it's in my power to grant, 
anything."

"To make things less stressful, especially with both 
families looking on, I'd like to request that, instead 
of Sarah and I going off to a corner of the room 
within earshot of everyone, that we get to know one 
another more casually in the mood befitting a dinner 
between families. This can best be determined by our 
initial conversation before dinner, If she's too 
nervous about a one-on-one situation, we can use the 
informal approach. Questions and answers can be easily 
carried on by normal conversation before, during and 
after dinner. This might help keep Sarah from feeling 
self-conscious and less intimidated in the presence of 
a man. What do you think of the idea, or is it too... 
breaking with tradition?"

"You have given my daughter great respect with your 
thoughtful kindness. I agree, I think it best as you 
have suggested."

"Fine." I said, standing up and extending my hand to 
close our meeting, "Now with that out of the way, when 
do we meet each other's family for dinner?"

Sarah, with me and my family are at your convenience."

I looked at Dad inquiringly, and he said, "I can't 
wait to finally meet your family! How about tomorrow 
evening? Say, seven o'clock?"

Adib, shaking my father's hand said, "Seven it is!"

Making our way out of the study to see Adib out, we 
praised Allah and made our obligatory farewells.

When Adib had left, we proceeded to the kitchen for 
lunch, and I turned to Dad and said, "Well?"

He smiled and said, "Considering the subject matter 
under discussion, I couldn't have done better myself. 
In fact, I could never have anticipated or even 
planned that outcome. I'm very proud of you son: very 
proud.

Now, let's get some lunch and fill your mother in on 
the details: she has a dinner to plan."

Over lunch, I filled Mom in on the details of our 
meeting with Adib. She took everything I'd said rather 
calmly, and praised me for my concern for Sarah's 
feelings. But about the resulting dinner that we had 
set for tomorrow evening, my mother jokingly said she 
was going to punish both of us for such an impromptu 
gathering. She said that we had 'volunteered our great 
organizational skills' to help organize everything so 
that we all, at least, had time to dress and get 
ready. 

After lunch, Mom quickly made a list of the necessary 
items needed for the dinner, then began barking out 
orders and handing out assignments like an assembly 
line foreman. She was used to performing this task 
considering the many times she'd had to entertain my 
father's prospective and current clients. And so it 
was, each of us off to do the 'master's' bidding.



Continued in Chapter 5...
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<5th attachment, "Child_Brides_of_India_5.txt" begin>

Child Brides of India Ch 5
By C. Stanton Leman

Chapter 5: Introductions and Dinner (Mg, rom, no sex)

Under Mom's calm but firm direction, everything for 
dinner was fished by five pm. The extra maid, chef and 
waiter were assigned the job of completing the meal 
preparations as we all went our separate ways to begin 
to get ready. After completing my bathroom ritual, I 
said my evening prayers, and again, fervently asked 
for guidance and help to see Allah's will in all of 
this. After finishing my prayers, I began to get 
dressed. I chose a navy blue pin striped suit with a 
pale blue shirt and matching tie, then headed 
downstairs to give any last minute help Mom might 
need.

I found Mom in the kitchen, giving last minute 
instructions to the staff. I stood in the doorway of 
the kitchen, and simply gazed upon my mother. She had 
decided to dress the culture. She had on a turquoise 
colored hand painted sari with gold trim. Underneath, 
she wore a dark blue petticoat and long choli. Her 
hair was put up, using the remainder of the pallu as a 
headscarf. For the first time as a man, I looked at 
her as a woman. She seemed oblivious to my presence, 
busy with details, but I looked at her with deep, 
loving emotion. She stands about 5' 9", with medium 
blonde hair like mine. She has light blue eyes and an 
easy, friendly smile. As I looked at her, I noticed 
that at 42, except for the usual fullness that comes 
with age, she had a very nice figure and ample 
breasts. When I looked at her face, I saw that her age 
had given her a noble, patrician beauty that one would 
admire in a mature woman. I was broken from my trance 
when she finally noticed me, stopped and smiled.

Walking over and straightening my tie, she said, "Dad 
will be down in a minute, he had to wait on me to 
finish primping. Well, how do I look?" 

"Lovely, simply lovely. I love you Mom," I said.

"Well, lover boy, you ready for your date?"

"Mom," I said, "Why is this all so funny?"

"I think it's kinda cute that a 16 year old girl will 
have her first 'date' with my manly son who appears 
just a tad bit nervous himself! Besides, why be so 
serious? You've already decided she's not your cup of 
tea, so relax and enjoy the conversation, company and 
this nice dinner your mother slaved over, huh?'

"You're right Mom, you're always right."

"Yeah? Well tell your father that! We'd better head to 
the living room, it's almost time." 

With that, we walked arm in arm towards the living 
room, as Mom yelled upstairs, "John, its almost time."

"Just a minute honey, I'll be right down," was his 
distant reply.

With all three of us standing in the living room, my 
dad looked out the window, and said, "They're here, 
lets move to the foyer."

The foyer is rather small for receiving more than two, 
maybe three people at most, so we all stood in kind of 
a curved line on the left hand side in the hall, where 
the foyer empties into the hallway. We stood with my 
mother closest to the wall, me in the middle and my 
father to my right. The doorbell rang, and I took a 
deep breath. My mother squeezed my hand as Dad moved 
to the door.

My father answered the door, greeting Adib with a 
handshake, motioning him inside. Adib entered and 
stepped towards me with outstretched hand. Because of 
the restricting width of the foyer and his size, I 
could only get a glimpse of the rest of his family, 
but all the women appeared to have their heads 
covered. 

I took his hand, shaking it and said, "Assalamu 
aliakom."

He replied, "Wa aliakum asslalm."

I thought he was going to stand and introduce his 
family, but my father, either out of nervousness, or 
simply having a brain fart, wrapped his arm around 
Adib's shoulder and led him to the veranda, speaking 
lightheartedly to him as they moved.

Then I saw Salima for the first time. It appeared that 
Sarah was behind her, followed by the younger 
daughter.

Salima was, to my surprise, a very beautiful woman for 
having had two children, which might put her, I guess 
to be about 38. She is very short, standing only about 
five feet tall, and petite with a slender build, dark 
olive complexion, with friendly brown eyes, and medium 
length black hair. She had high, somewhat smallish 
breasts proportional for her frame. 

With my hands folded in front of me, I bowed slightly 
and greeted her by saying, "Assalamu aliakom. I'm 
Sean, and this is my mother Joan. You must be Salima, 
I'm very pleased to meet you."

My mother smiled and said, "Hi, I'm Joan, it's a 
pleasure to finally meet you and your daughters, 
Salima"

Salima replied, "Wa aliakum asslalm. I too have been 
looking forward to meeting both of you. Please, let me 
introduce my daughters." With that, she gently 
motioned for Sarah to step forward. "This is my eldest 
daughter Sarah. Sean, Sarah. Sarah, Mrs. Michaels."

With my hands folded in front of me, I slightly bowed, 
and greeted her by saying, "Assalamu aliakom. It's a 
pleasure to meet you." My mom then took her hand and 
greeted her.

Sarah, to my surprise, was prettier than the picture 
her father had painted of her. Her height, weight and 
complexion seemed accurate, at 5' 6'' and about 120-
130 pounds, but she didn't look 'full' to me. She had 
an average frame for an athletic girl, showed no signs 
of fat, and had a nice figure with ample sized 
breasts. Although she had respectfully bowed her head 
slightly, she had a cute face. She looked up at me 
briefly, smiled a pretty smile, which she shyly 
covered with her hand and blushingly said to me, "Wa 
aliakum asslalm. It's a pleasure to meet you and for 
you to invite us into your home."

My mother said, "Sarah, it's our pleasure to have you 
here, and your comment was very sweet." My mother 
stepped towards her, taking her arm, led her a little 
ways into the hall to make room for the last of the 
introductions.

Motioning her forward, Salima said, "and this is our 
youngest daughter, Priya."


Again, with my hands folded, I slightly bowed, and 
greeted her by saying, "Assalamu---------"


Everything within me instantly exploded! It felt like 
a white-hot spear had pierced both of us at the same 
time, right to our cores. I gasped "Oh!" I know she 
did also because I could hear it above my own, Salima 
also had to have heard it. Seen it. Did mom? Or Sarah?

As she slowly came into view and as I bowed to greet 
her, our eyes met: and I cannot describe what is 
beyond words to explain, but I was looking directly 
into the most innocently beautiful, dark, and 
sensuously captivating large black eyes. 

The windows to her soul, like pools of molten 
obsidian: so deep, dark and mysterious... slowly pulling 
me into the soul I instantly knew I would someday be 
mated to. I so desperately wanted to slip inside and 
wrap myself in their warmth forever. 

Although our glance lasted but only for a few, brief 
seconds, time seemed to stand still. When this 
seemingly endless gaze ended, she slowly began to 
smile. As her lips parted and widened, her smile 
seemed to light up her face. "Oh, to have that smile 
in my life every day," I thought.  Her color darkened 
ever so slightly as she raised her hand to cover her 
mouth. I noticed her tiny hand, her slender fingers 
and nails, and the pink of her palm...

My 6' frame towered over her like Gulliver and the 
Lilliputians. She was a young - very young pixie of a 
girl at about 4'9 or 10, about 80 to 90 pounds with a 
pubescent figure. She had a very slender- not skinny- 
build with the slightest outline of a curve to her 
hips, but from the front, I didn't notice any swelling 
of a breast. Her shiny blue-black hair was pulled back 
over her tiny ears. She had skin the color of light 
milk chocolate that was absolutely and perfectly 
flawless.

This entire sequence occurred in a matter of seconds.

She then gracefully covered my incomplete greeting by 
saying, "Wa aliakum asslalm. I am very pleased to meet 
you, and you also Mrs. Michaels."

As she passed by me to step into the hallway, I could 
see her light blue covered torso through the fine, 
white pallu, and then got a glimpse of a hint of her 
right breast, which appeared to be about the size of a 
small apricot, and through the scarf, her long, waist 
length black hair was set in a French braid.

I was momentarily stunned, embarrassed, confused... I 
was lost in another world! I regained my composure as 
quickly and as best I could, and looked at Salima. I 
was expecting to see anger, rage, disgust, but 
instead, she gave me a Mona Lisa-like smile.

Mom broke the gaze by saying, "Please, let's join the 
others on the veranda for refreshments and tea."

For the first time in my life, I felt as if I was 
ready to emotionally break down: I had never 
experienced such a strong feeling of a lack of 
control. I quickly composed myself to continue what 
was, apparently, going to be an arduous night. Me? 
What about Sarah? Oh God above, what's come over me"

Needing an additional moment to recover completely, as 
graciously and innocently as I could, I said, "Let me 
check on the refreshments." As I turned to go to the 
kitchen, I saw Salima pull up Priya, who was by mom's 
side, to speak to her. I didn't see Sarah, so I 
assumed she continued on to join our fathers. I 
stepped through the kitchen door and leaned against 
the wall with my head down. 

I shook my head, and mockingly said to myself, "Hummf! 
The ever-in control super whiz kid! God truly is the 
great equalizer!"

Just then, my mother walked through the door. She 
smiled and laying her hand on my cheek said, "Loose 
something out there, super kid? Maybe your heart?" She 
paused for a moment and finished. "Perhaps I should 
ask Priya if she's seen it," then gave an attempted 
tension-breaking chuckle.

I turned to look her, and with an unpleasant gaze, 
looked her in the eye, saying nothing.

She then said, "Look, you asked and prayed for Allah, 
peace be upon Him, to show you His will. Well, He did. 
Now, what are you going to do about it?"

I said, "What, are you turning Muslim?"

She said, "No, I'm showing respect for your faith, and 
I expect you to follow it! Listen to me. Allah, 
Christ, Jehovah, Shiva, Buddha or whoever the hell is 
on duty tonight, has knocked you on your ass and given 
your heart to an eleven year-old girl, and hers to 
you. Yes, she's eleven-and-a half years old! Now... pick 
yourself up by the bootstraps and play the hand that's 
been dealt you. If this is truly meant to be, we'll 
work out the details later. Everyone is beginning to 
wonder where we are, so follow your heart, trust in 
your faith, and let's get going!" With that, we both 
picked up a tray of drinks and headed out the door to 
the veranda.

Upon entering the veranda, we found everyone was 
standing together in light conversation. Mom and I 
finished serving drinks all around, then we began to 
split up into groups: my dad and Adib, then mom, 
Salima and Priya, which finally left Sarah and I to 
begin our one-on-one conversation.

Feeling the age-old insecurities around women 
resurface, there were shy glances and smiles (covered 
by a hand on her part) for a few moments, then I began 
with, "So, it seems that this Muslim courtship thing 
can be a little awkward, don't you think? It kinda 
feels like we're in a fishbowl with all eyes on us: 
even if, when you look around, it isn't really true, 
doesn't it?"

She looked around, giggled and said, "Yes, I was 
thinking the same thing. Excuse me if my English isn't 
very good, I'm a little nervous, but this is the first 
time I've been allowed to actually speak alone with a 
boy -- I mean a man, outside of a group setting."

"Don't feel too self conscious about it, it's hard for 
men and women to first meet, even when people around 
them seem not to notice them."

She then said, "Thanks for understanding, I don't feel 
so scared, now that we've begun to talk. Maybe my 
English will be better. How do you like India?

I told her I very much liked what I've seen, which 
hadn't been much, but I really did enjoy praying at 
the Jama Masjiid mosque, and meeting with the Imam had 
been very enlightening. Even some of the Hindu shrines 
were very beautiful. As for the culture, I've learned 
very little: only what I've obtained by observation.

She went on to explain a little about life in India, 
and the surprising fact her that her family not only 
spoke English, but also Tamil, Hindu and some Urdu. 
She also talked about a few of the customs, and 
general topics which she seemed more comfortable 
talking about, but then she said to me, "I know you 
and Papa have met, and he's already told you quite a 
bit about me, but I don't really know much about you."

I replied, "Well, to put you mind at ease, actually 
seeing and meeting you is much better than the girl 
(did I just say girl? I should have said woman) I had 
pictured in my mind: honestly. He didn't tell me that 
all of you spoke 4 languages!"

Smiling, she said, "You're very kind, but India is a 
country of many languages."

I continued to tell her my age, a little about my 
interests, hobbies, my educational level, and why I 
came to India. I didn't think it right to try and 
describe my personality traits, since I wanted her to 
make those judgments on her own. We had been talking 
for about ten minutes, and I kept trying to discreetly 
gaze at Priya as often as I felt comfortable with 
doing so, when Mom announced that dinner was being 
served in the dinning room.

We all proceeded into the house and on into the dining 
room, where mom announced the seating arrangements.

Because of the unequal numbers in each family unit, 
mom sat dad at one end of the table, with Adib at the 
other. The side seating arrangements were a 3-2 
setting with Salima sitting to Adib's right, then 
Sarah, then Priya on the end, next to my dad. On the 
other side, Mom had split the side into thirds, with 
her sitting slightly away, but to the right of my 
father with me to mom's right. This placed me in a 
position as to be able to look almost directly across 
at Sarah and her mother with Adib to my right.

Once seated and the first course being served, Mom, 
being the gracious hostess, turned diagonally towards 
Adib and Salima, and began the dinner conversation 
with, "I am so very glad we have the opportunity to 
finally meet each other as families. Although business 
and friendship are important, families are what are 
most important to all of us. I hope everyone enjoys 
the meal."

Adib replied, "Mrs. Michaels, you are the consummate 
hostess, and you have done it again with a fine 
atmosphere and setting for our families to meet on 
such a short notice, my hat is off to you."

Salima added, "Yes, I am impressed that even though on 
short notice, you have been very sensitive to our 
Muslim faith and culture. I find it enlightening to 
meet westerners that look upon us in such friendship."

Mom said, "Well, Sean had a lot to do with that. 
Loving our son as you do your girls, when Sean 
converted to Islam, we have honestly tried to 
understand his faith, even though some if its customs 
and precepts are so different from our Baptist, 
Christian faith."

Although Adib knew pretty much as to why I converted 
to Islam from our initial meeting in Washington, and 
he'd filled Salima in at some point in time, I'm sure, 
for the benefit of the girls Salima asked me, "Sean, 
why DID you convert to Islam?" 

I explained that 9-11 had a lot to do with it. I had 
several devout Muslim friends, and how they actually 
wept, as did we, over the events, prayed for the 
survivors, and for peace for those lost and their 
families. I went on to explain how they enlightened me 
that real Islam is a faith of peace, and the desire to 
live a harmonious life with all of God's people. That 
having different beliefs gave no one of any faith a 
license or sanction to kill other human beings 
indiscriminately. 

I went on to explain that their discussions drove me 
to start reading the Koran to learn more about the 
teachings of Allah, and from there, I decided that 
those teachings were a path I'd like to follow, and 
so, I converted about two years ago.

I then tried to direct the conversation towards Sarah, 
so I asked her, "Sarah, I understand you're several 
years advanced at school: have you decided to go to 
college, if so, what would you like to major in?"

She looked up, and around the table then replied, "I 
think I'd like to go to medical school, and possibly 
become a pediatrician. There are so many children here 
in India that don't have basic medical care."

Dad finally spoke up saying, "That's a well thought 
out and noble endeavor to undertake. I applaud you for 
it. Would you like to go to medical school here or in 
the US?"

"I haven't thought too much about it yet."

Mom, I guess, in an attempt to make this a double 
'introduction,' first continued my father's praise by 
saying, "It hurts all of us the most to see children 
suffer," then asked Priya, "And what about you, Priya, 
what are your educational plans?"

Priya looked up, wide-eyed and surprised, I guess 
because she'd been called upon, recovered and looked 
around the table at each of us and said, "I'd like to 
enroll at the India Institute of Technology and get my 
degree in computer engineering."

Dad exclaimed, "Bravo! A girl after my own heart! 
You're thinking quite a bit ahead for still being in 
middle school aren't you? What would you like to 
specialize in?"

Sarah, I assumed, trying to deflect her insecurity of 
being academically much slower than her sister, troed 
to cover it with pride for her, offered the revealing 
fact by looking at Dad saying, "Oh no, she's actually 
in the eleventh grade, one below me."

After a few perked looks at Priya, both attempting to 
deflect any embarrassment to Sarah by her sister's 
revelation, and based on the response received from 
Dad, she didn't miss a beat. She must have 
instinctively found what button to push with Dad, 
because she quickly interjected, "I'm not sure yet, 
what types of services does your company engineer for 
its clients?" With that, she coyly indirectly looked 
over at me, then at Mom and definitely darkened 
slightly (is that how a chocolate girl blushes?), and 
then looked again to my father. I felt my face flush a 
little also.

Jackpot! Dad then went into a ten-minute diatribe 
about the services we engineer for all acumens of 
engineering design and research, such as nano 
technologies, robotics, medical R & D, and cutting 
edge medical procedures.

Priya again glanced at me, gave me another 'chocolate 
blush,' and returned to her plate. I looked at Sarah, 
who quickly turned her sight to her plate taking a 
bite of food, then to Adib, who had a shit-eating grin 
on his face, and Salima, still with that same Mona 
Lisa smile.

In a way, I felt ashamed. Ashamed at the fact that I 
was supposed to be so mature and adept, ashamed 
because I felt Sarah was being hurt: both by my 
insecurity and what I was now feeling for Priya, 
Priya's obvious superiority over Sarah-- and this 
evening, over me. It was beginning to become obvious 
to everyone who was 'stealing the show,' and what was 
being said between the lines with body language and 
gestures. I felt uncannily outclassed by my newfound, 
11 year-old heartthrob.

I think Sarah sensed this in me, and deflected the 
conversation back upon me by asking, "Sean, how do you 
feel about taking over your father's company here in 
India?"

I did indeed, now feel humble, and replied, "I'm 
looking forward to the challenge, hoping to make some 
changes for the better, especially for the employees, 
and to working closely with your Father. Having been 
here only a short while, I have found India to be 
interesting, and very revealing."

Salima looked at me, and her smile changed from the 
mysterious to one of coy acknowledgement and replied, 
"Yes... India can be a sensuously mysterious land."

My mom, not hesitating a moment, put in with "Yes it 
can. Indeed... it surely can."

Adib, momentarily caught off guard by the obvious 
double entandre made by his wife then quickly said, 
"I am looking forward to it also. In just the short 
time you've been here, Sean, you have convinced me 
that you are your father's son."

Dad nodded his appreciation to Adib from across the 
table and said, "I really appreciate the compliment, 
especially from a friend as close as you," and raised 
his glass to him.

Salima spoke again in the direction of my mother 
saying, "I also am very pleased that our husband's 
friendship has now been increased to include both of 
our families."

Mom, I guess, not to be outdone in the double entendre 
department said, "And I'm sure our friendship will 
become even closer over time."

The three males looked at the women, and I think we 
were all of one mind in thinking "When did we loose 
control?" The women, both young and old are the ones 
directing this show!"

There is an observation in business management that 
states: "He who speaks last in an exchange, leaves 
with the power." My mom showed she was no slouch when 
it came to exchanges, and not wanting Salima to rebut, 
quickly followed her remark with, "Well, it looks like 
we're all about finished with dinner. Dessert anyone?"

The men, desperately looking for a change of scenery, 
quickly indicated full stomachs, and we all agreed to 
adjourn.

Standing, Mom said, "Since no one is in the mood for a 
heavy dessert, we'll serve tea and cakes in the living 
room." With that, we all filed out to the living room.

Once in the living room, everyone was standing, more 
or less in a loose crowd exchanging pleasantries about 
how good the meal was, how nice an evening it had 
turned out to be, then we drifted back into small 
groups: again Dad and Adib, Mom, Salima and Priya, and 
as if by some conspiracy,, Sarah and I.

Sarah was facing me with her back turned to the other 
women, and the women were standing such that Priya had 
her back to me, with Mom and Salina facing me. Dad and 
Adib had retired to the study.

We were talking about what life was like in America in 
comparison to India, when I noticed Priya again. I 
tried to be discreet, but I had the repeated urge to 
look at her, even if only her back. I was doing quite 
well at glancing without Sarah's (apparent) knowledge, 
and I saw that Priya had slipped her right foot from 
her slipper. She had her foot curled back so that the 
top front of her arch and toes were resting on the 
carpet. For a quick moment (or so I thought), I stared 
at her lovely foot. It was tiny like the rest of her. 
Like her palms, the underside was a lovely shade of 
pink. She had a little heel, with a slender arch that 
was slightly wrinkled due to the curvature of her 
foot. Her little toes all in a row against the carpet 
like a string of tiny, round, pink pearls...

When I broke my gaze to look at my mom, both she and 
Salima smiled at me, Priya, was unaware that she was 
even being watched. I thought to myself, "Boy, you've 
been a complete ass all night!"

We had been talking for about ten minutes, when Dad 
and Adib returned to the living room. Sarah and I were 
finishing our topic of discussion, when she said, 
"Excuse me Sean, I'd like to speak to my father a 
moment."

"Sure." I replied, and watched her take a few steps 
toward her dad. I overheard her ask him, "Papa? May I 
speak to Sean in the dining room for a minute? You can 
see us from here, OK?"

He looked at me then asked her, "Is everything OK?

"Yes Papa, everything's fine. I'd just like to talk 
privately for a moment. I'll explain in a few minutes, 
OK?"

"OK Sarah, if everything is fine. Just sit where I can 
see you."

"Yes Papa, I will. Thanks."

She turned and stepped towards me and said "Can we 
speak quietly in the dining room for a moment?"

"Sure," I said, and we walked to the corner of the 
table that was visible in Adib's view and sat: my back 
to her father and her facing towards him.

She looked slightly embarrassed as she bowed her head, 
and then slowly raised it as she began to speak. 
"Please, don't say anything until I'm finished, will 
you promise me?"

"Yes, I promise. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Sean. In fact, everything is finally 
right. For the first time in my life, I feel certain 
that everything is right. I have been very nervous and 
anxious about marriage, meeting you, whether I'd 
measure up to the expectations of others: Papa, Momma, 
Priya, and you and your family. I have fervently 
prayed for Allah to quiet my heart and speak to me 
about you, me, marriage, everything." 

She sighed, took a breath and continued "And He has." 
Then, a single tear dropped onto her cheek, which she 
didn't wipe away. I assume that at that point, Adib 
had seen her tears and started towards us because 
Sarah raised her hand as if to motion him to stop. I 
wanted so much to dry away that tear, but knowing it 
was forbidden to touch, held back.

She continued... "You and I, and everyone present 
tonight know that it's not Allah's will, peace be unto 
Him, that we are meant to be."

I said, "I'm so sorry Sarah, the last thing I ever 
wanted to do was to hurt you. I feel so terrible about 
what you've been through tonight. It really breaks my 
heart to see your tears, tears that I've caused---" 

She cut me off by saying, "Oh no! You don't 
understand. These aren't tears of sadness, they're 
tears of joy! For the first time in my life, I've 
heard and felt the will of God, and I feel an 
incredible peace -- a peace I cannot understand. It 
wasn't the will of Allah to come here tonight with my 
family on my behalf, but for Priya's. It was so that 
you and Priya would meet! Don't you see? You and she 
are super smart, confident, so sure of who and what 
you are. The two of you are a perfect match. From the 
moment both of your eyes met, He ordained it!

I feel joy! Joy for Priya. Joy for you, and the joy of 
feeling that I have been used by Allah to fulfill His 
will! And I Have peace: a peace in knowing that Allah 
is watching over me. It's not my time, it's Priya's. 
Mine will surely come, and Allah will choose it for 
me, just as He's done for Priya and for you.

Don't feel sad or sorry for me, I have been an 
instrument of God. I will always remember this night 
in my heart, and never doubt God's love for me. OK? 

Let's return now, there's one last thing to do to 
bring the will of Allah to fruition." With that, she 
rose and smiled, and walking side by side, we entered 
the living room."

While walking back, I couldn't help but remember my 
words to Adib yesterday about Sarah, realizing how 
prophetic they were. She had been moved by God and is 
demonstrating a newfound maturity, grace and 
conviction to act in such a decisive manner, but they 
weren't to attract me, they were to bring the events 
of the evening out into the open.

Once inside, folks were arranged in the room 
differently. Mom sat on the far end of the couch, 
Priya in the middle, with Salima on the near end. Dad 
was sitting on the arm of the sofa, next to mom, and 
Adib likewise next to Salima.

Sarah stepped up to face her father, and began, "Papa, 
I know that you have sought the will of Allah in 
searching for a pious and righteous husband for me, 
and you did it out of love. You hoped to bring your 
daughter here tonight as a potential bride, and you 
have: but it wasn't me... it was Priya!

Oh papa! I have heard His almighty voice in my heart 
and am filled with joy and peace. Joy for being His 
instrument. Joy for Priya, and joy for Momma. 

Just look at her Papa, look at Priya. See how she 
shines? She's been given a heart, and surrendered her   
own, can't you see that?" Looking around at all in the 
room then continuing, "Can't you all see that? I am so 
happy I could just dance! Everyone present has tried 
all evening to avoid what is common knowledge, for my 
sake. We have seen the hand of God! Can't all of you 
see? We've all been part of a miracle! A miracle of 
love: what greater gift can we hope for from our God?"

Adib, with tears in his eyes, lovingly enfolded his 
daughter in his arms and wept. Salima held her face in 
her hands sobbing. Priya, with tears on her cheeks, 
looked me straight in the eye -- and never looked away.

I felt that she was looking for affirmation of the 
love her sister openly extolled, and up to now was 
openly unacknowledged. I looked at her with all that I 
felt in my heart, gently smiled, and mouthed the words 
"I love you." She gave me another chocolate blush, and 
looked to her mother for affirmation and then to her 
father.

Mom was sobbing as if Sarah war HER daughter. Dad 
looked at me, then looked at Priya, and simply sighed 
and shook his head.

When everyone seemed to be regaining control of 
themselves, Salima went into a prayer of praise to 
Allah:

"O Allah, you have heard the painful cries of a mother 
for her child! You have sought to lift up my brown-
skinned daughter and carry her above all the 
indignities and pain of her life! You have brought her 
a love: a love that covers her shame! Praise and glory 
be yours forever!"

Priya sat, with hands folded in her lap, and silently 
cried as her mother's prayer brought back the memories 
of society's indifference and indignity her complexion 
had heaped upon her.

Things quieted down and Dad stood up and asked Adib, 
"May I speak to your daughter directly?"

Adib replied, "Yes John, you may."

Dad looked at me and said, "Son, is this really what 
your heart desires? Do you wish to seek Priya's hand 
in marriage?"

"Yes Dad, I do."

He then turned to Adib and said, "Adib Haaseem, do you 
agree for Sean to seek Priya's hand?"

"I do John, if that is her desire."

He lastly turned to Priya and said, "Priya, is it your 
desire to begin a courtship with Sean?"

"With my father's consent, I desire nothing more."

Dad stepped back for a moment, then began to address 
everyone by saying "First Adib, I suggest that you 
take your family home, I'm sure you have a lot to 
discuss, as do we. Because of Priya's age, there are 
issues -- legal issues - to be addressed and dealt 
with. 

I suggest that we all meet here on Tuesday evening, 
say about seven? After having time to discuss things 
with our families separately, we can then decide how 
we will proceed. Sean, Priya, this doesn't mean that 
you two will be able to proceed toward a marriage, but 
it doesn't prevent it either. We just need to be 
absolutely positive and clear about any decisions we 
make. Do we all agree?"

Everyone nodded and said, "Yes."

With that, everyone rose to get ready to part company 
for the evening. After saying our praises to Allah and 
the obligatory farewells, I stood at the door and 
watched as they left. Priya, walking next to Salima, 
turned and gently smiled before turning to get in the 
car. I closed the door, quietly whispered to her and 
myself, "I love you Priya," and then headed to the 
living room, anticipating my father's uncontrolled 
sentiments on how he REALLY felt. 



Continued in Chapter 6...
<5th attachment end>


<6th attachment, "Child Brides of India  6.txt" begin>

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 fianc� 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?
Waki