Child Brides of India

By C. Stanton Leman

Chapter 15: Devil Warfare (mg, rom, no sex)

That Friday Priya and I awoke and arose quietly, saying only what was needed. I was worried and afraid for what Singh might put her through and I think she was gearing herself up for mental warfare.

We showered, dressed and prayed and went downstairs. Breakfast was more of the same, all of us quietly somber without really saying too much. After breakfast, I asked Priya what she wanted to do, and she said, “Shopping. I need to buy something.”

Puzzled, I said, “Okay, shopping it is.” We got ready and left. Getting into the car, I asked her what she wanted to buy. Brushing me aside, she gave the limo driver the address. He nodded and off we went. She sat quietly, holding my hand praying all the way to the store.

Once inside, I realized it was a women’s clothing store specializing in Muslim garb. Priya spoke to the saleslady in Tamil, telling her what she wanted. After trying on several sizes, Priya set her purchases on the counter. She had bought an abaya (a simple black dressing gown that covers everything except the hands, feet and face) that is the custom for fundamentalist Muslim women to wear and a black hijab.

Once back in the car, I asked her if she wanted to go anywhere else and she said, “No, let’s go home and get ready to meet the devil.”

Priya was in a ‘zone’, and I knew better than to try and inject myself. We arrived home and Priya went upstairs to change. I sat with Mom drinking coffee and she asked, “Is she all right? I’ve never seen her like this before.”

I replied, “Neither have I. She’s in some kind of meditative state praying unceasingly. She bought traditional Muslim garb this morning and when we left the store, she said she wanted to go home to ‘get ready to meet the devil.’”

Shaking her head, Mom said, “I hope she doesn’t go overboard and appear like a young fanatic.”

“I’ll mention that to her,” I replied.

Just then, Priya entered the room dressed as a traditional Muslim woman with only her hands and face uncovered. Priya sat and Mom asked her if she wanted something to drink and she requested water. Giving her the water, Mom asked her, “Are you all right, Priya?”

Priya smiled after taking a sip of water and said, “Don’t worry, Mom. I know what I’m doing and I won’t portray myself as an extremist.”

“I’m sorry I said that,” Mom replied. “I’m just worried.”

“No offense taken,” Priya smiled and said. “Have faith in your daughter.”

With tears in her eyes, Mom smiled and said, “I believe in you.”

Priya looked at me and said, “Are you ready? It’s twelve o’ clock; we’d better leave.”

She and Mom hugged and kissed each other goodbye and we left for the embassy.

We sat outside Paul’s office for about fifteen minutes when a secretary directed us to a conference room where Paul and Singh were waiting. When we entered the room, Paul introduced himself and Dr. Singh and asked Priya to be seated. He directed me to sit in a chair against the wall, directly behind Priya to observe the proceedings.

Priya asked for and was given a glass of water, which she placed in front of her. Paul started out by saying, “Mrs. Michaels, I’m sure you know why you’re here. This hearing will determine several things. First, if your maturity level, despite your age, is such that your marriage is valid. If valid, you have no fear of your father or your husband being prosecuted. Second, having shown that you are competent and have a genuinely loving marriage, you will be granted all the privileges due you as the spouse of an American citizen. Do you understand what I’ve said so far?”

“Yes sir, I understand perfectly.”

“Good. Let’s proceed. This interview will be conducted by Dr. Amir Singh and will be recorded for the record. Do you agree to have this interview taped?”

“Yes sir, I do.”

“Will you agree to swear your testimony here today will be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?”

“I cannot swear an oath to Allah. I will speak the truth and Allah will be my judge.”

“Okay, fine. Let’s begin. If I have a question, I’ll just jump in, but for the most part, it will be entirely Dr. Singh’s interview. Are you ready to begin?”

“Yes sir, I’m ready.” With Priya’s reply, Singh began his questioning.

“Hello, Priya.”

“Mrs. Michaels, if you please, sir.”

“As you wish. Hello, Mrs. Michaels.”

“Hello sir.”

“Let’s begin by entering some information into the record. You are an eleven year-old girl of Muslim faith?”

“No sir, I’m an eleven year-old, married Muslim woman.”

“Whether you truly are a woman or not will be determined today.”

“May I speak, sir?”

“You may.”

“I am legally married both under strict Muslim precepts and have a valid marriage certificate according to the laws of India. That gives me certain legal rights. Until you can prove that I or my husband has broken any laws, I have the right to be given the respect due any other married woman in India, as I respect your position.”

“All right, Mrs. Michaels, as you wish. In your own words, can you tell us the circumstances and events of your first meeting with your husband?”

Priya went on to tell the same story I had relayed four days ago nearly word for word. Singh then asked her, “So it was love at first sight?”

“Yes sir.”

“What is your definition of the feeling of love?”

“Love isn’t a feeling sir, it’s an action. If we profess love for someone, it means nothing unless we validate that profession with a positive action. The feeling that you speak of is God lowering our defenses so that we are able to let someone see our child within.”

Paul interrupted and asked Priya, “Excuse me, but how did you arrive at that observation?”

“My life’s experience, sir. No one that has professed love for me has ever broken a promise to me in demonstrating that love. The ‘feeling’ I had of being in love allowed me to validate my love for someone I had no previous relationship with.”

Singh then continued his questioning by asking Priya, “What did you do to validate this feeling of love you felt for your espoused?”

“I bared my soul and exposed my secrets, weaknesses and feelings to him, leaving me completely vulnerable to be hurt.”

“Why did you put yourself in such a position?”

“I believed with the same conviction then, as I do now, that Sean loves me and would never hurt me. Loving someone means that you know their weaknesses and failings, love them anyway and will protect that person’s weaknesses as their own. Love is a reciprocal thing. I gave of myself and he gave of himself.”

“So you had sex before marriage.”

“No sir. We were chaperoned and not left alone. I was speaking of matters of the heart.”

‘What’s your favorite color?”

“Pink, sir.”

“How long was your courtship?”

“About eight weeks, sir.”

“Don’t you think that was a rather short time to get to know someone?”

“No sir. Our courtship only verified in our minds what our hearts already knew.”

‘Who is Emma?”

“My husband’s second cousin; she’s seven, sir.”

“What’s the name of the Michaels’ maid?”

“Here in India, her name is Pita; their maid in the U.S. is named Abigail, but they call her Abby.”

“What’s Sean’s favorite food?”

“Prime rib beef, sir.”

“How much is your husband worth?”

“I don’t know, sir, he hasn’t told me and I haven’t asked.”

“Why not?”

“Why should I? My husband provides for all my needs. I am fed, clothed and loved: not only by him but also by his family. What more do I need to be happy?”

“How do you feel about his wealth?”

“Money is a concern to all that live, in that it is a necessary tool. My husband’s station in life will afford our children the advantages of an excellent education even if something were to happen to him. I will also have the privilege of teaching our children charity towards those less fortunate in our county”

“You aren’t hurt by it either, are you?”

“You offend me sir! Neither I, nor my husband has ever mentioned money in any of our conversations either before or since our marriage, nor do I need wealth to be happy as you suggest. If my husband made an average wage and I had to scrub the floors of my house, I’d do it with joy and out of love for my husband - not his paycheck!”

“How long did you and your father negotiate your dower?”

“We didn’t. The first we heard of his offer was when he asked for my hand. He offered and I accepted. I promptly accepted his proposal of marriage and wasn’t concerned about the dower. I am deeply in love with Sean and wanted to be his wife. I later told him that such a large gift wasn’t necessary, but he said that if I didn’t accept what he offered from his heart, the marriage was off, sir.”

“Surely you don’t expect us to believe that there was no negotiation for the dower. These negotiations are well known throughout India!”

“With all due respect, sir, you again offend my honor. Without proof, you accuse me of being a thief and a harlot, selling my innocence for money. I don’t need my husband’s money.

“I have an IQ of 152 and although eleven, sir, I will graduate high school at the end of the upcoming school year. I plan to complete my BE, master’s and doctorate degrees before I’m eighteen. With these credentials, as you well know, I will not even have to look for a job. I will have offers to refuse from around the world: especially America. Given time, I’m quite sure I could attain a certain degree of wealth on my own. Sir.”

“I see… How did you know that what you felt for your husband was true love?”

“Allah blessed me and put it there. I knew I loved him as I know my mother’s touch: one just knows. There are things of the heart and soul that are unexplainable in words. Anyone who is in love with someone may grasp to find a reason, but in the end, they just know.”

“Were you frightened on your wedding day?”

“No, I was nervous, but not afraid. I was happy.”

“After the ceremony, did you have any feelings of fear or regret that maybe you might have made a mistake?”

“I had no fear or regret. I had a feeling of loss.”

“If you feel you made the right decision, why would you feel any loss?”

“Whenever we let go of something in our lives, a loved one who’s died or something that is good and pure, we feel a loss before letting go and moving on with our lives. I remember telling Sean that I’d never sleep in my bed again, or say goodnight to my Momma, Papa or my sister, Sarah. And that to move on, I had to close the door on a childhood where I was loved and protected in order for me to become a woman and a wife.”

Paul interrupted with, “That’s a very astute observation, Mrs. Michaels.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Singh began again with “What about the duties of a wife. Did you think about sex before you were married?”

Taking a slow sip from her glass, I sensed that she was boring a hole through him with her stare as she drank. Priya responded, “Yes, I thought about it.”

“Tell us what was on your mind concerning this issue?”

“Apprehension.”

“About what?”

“My mother told me that all brides are uncertain on their wedding nights and not to worry. If my husband’s love was true, he would treat me with kindness and love and take away my fears.”

“When the time came, were you afraid?”

“No sir.”

“Did he show concern for you before he took you? And if so, how did you respond?”

“When he took me to our bedchamber, Sean was very gentle and loving. He asked me if I was ready to consummate our love. I told him I was a woman in name and asked him to make me a woman in life.”

“What happened next?”

“Sean performed the Muslim custom of washing my feet.”

“And then?”

“We consummated our love, sir”

“Did you suffer pain?”

“Not as much as your questions inflict. No, there was no pain, only a sting like getting an injection. Sir.”

“Did you climax?”

I saw Priya’s knuckles turn white as she gripped the arms of the chair and her hands were shaking. She was silent for a moment, composed herself and took a drink of water, and slowly began her response.

“With all due respect, sir, I do not believe that the United States government wants or needs to know my sexual responses in bed to approve me for a visa. At the beginning of this interview, I told you I was a woman. Since you seem to gauge my maturity on whether or not I can achieve an orgasm, I will answer your question with one of my own.

“Does the tiger in the jungle have stripes?”

He looked at her and said, “Why yes.”

“The correct answer is: yes, too many to count. SIR.”

Paul jumped in with a hand covering his mouth saying, “I think we’ve heard enough to make a decision.”

Priya looked at him and said, “Sir, may I speak?”

Paul responded by saying, “Yes you may.”

Priya leaned forward and looked Singh right in the eyes and said, “Dr. Singh, you have sought to use this interview as a means to offend, degrade and humiliate me instead of treating me as an honest person and considering the facts on their merit.

“The rights of children in our country are shamefully ignored and you have validated that fact by treating me as a child, insulting me and trying to manipulate me by ignoring mine. I believe that I am owed an answer as to whether you have disproved the undeniable fact that I am a mature woman capable of executing and maintaining the covenant I have made before God and my husband; and I will not leave this room until I receive your apology.”

I could see Paul saying to himself, The shit has hit the fan now. He turned and said to Singh, “Do you wish to respond?”

Looking down for a moment and then back up to Priya he said, “You are a very remarkable young woman, Mrs. Michaels, and I apologize if I’ve offended you.”

Priya bowed her head slightly in acknowledgement and said, “Thank you, Dr. Singh.”

Paul then reached over to the middle of the table and shut off the recorder. I soared in my heart with Priya in her triumph. The taste of victory sure is sweet!

Paul got on the phone and asked his secretary to come and escort us to his office. I rose from my chair and walked to Priya and she looked at me and smiled. I don’t know how she did it; her eyes were filled with tears, but not one had fallen to her cheeks. Paul’s secretary arrived and he asked us to wait in his office. We said goodbye to the ‘devil’ and left the room.

As soon as we left the room, Priya was shaking from the adrenaline and started to cry. Once seated in Paul’s office, his secretary brought her a bottle of water and she drank half of it before coming up for breath. We waited about five minutes, and Priya regained her composure as Paul stepped into the office and sat behind his desk with our folder.

He looked at both of us for a silent moment, and then clasped his hands together and leaned forward saying, “Mrs. Michaels, you truly are a very remarkable young woman! There are grown women who’ve been married for years come here for a visa and are unable to defend themselves as you have today. With the report and transcript of this meeting today and my recommendations, I think you can expect to return here with your passport to receive your visa very soon. I shouldn’t say this, but Dr. Singh may suffer repercussions from his handling of your case. You handled yourself with a lot of dignity and grace under very difficult circumstances and are to be commended.”

Paul went on to explain that once the paperwork was processed and sent back here to the embassy, she’d receive a packet with instructions to be completed and returned. With that we rose and said goodbye to Paul, and left for home.

The entire way home, Priya cried and I could do nothing more than hold her. She proved her ‘salt’ (as Dad would say) today, and had done what she set out to do. There was no doubting now that she might have the pubescent body of a young girl, but she was all woman!

When we got in the house, Mom, seeing Priya’s red eyes rushed to her, holding her in her arms. Looking over Priya’s head at me, her eyes asked me what happened. I just smiled and Mom hugged Priya, rocking her back and forth.

We walked into the study, and Dad looked a wreck. He looked up inquiringly and I said, “She kicked ass and took names!”

Dad just slumped in his chair, the tension drained from his body and he covered his face sobbing. Priya went to him and held him to her breast, holding him close as if rocking a babe. She comforted him by saying, “Now, now, Father, how could you doubt me, I’m a chip off the ole’ block, remember? Am I not my father’s daughter?”

Dad didn’t know whether to keep crying or laugh. He looked up at her and said, “God certainly broke the mold when He made you, child!”

Mom was hugging my arm so tight she was cutting off the circulation!

Everyone was kind of stressed out, so Dad insisted we go out for a light evening meal. His suggestion made all of us realize that we were hungry and we agreed. Everyone freshened up and we left for dinner.

We had a nice, quiet and relaxing dinner after the taut tension of the day’s events. We laughed and joked, and as I saw my father interact with my wife, I felt he loved and admired her as much, if not more than me and I was happy.

We returned home with full stomachs, and the only thing left to do was retire, so we all said goodnight and made our way upstairs.

We gave much thanks to Allah that night at evening prayers, climbed into bed, and feel asleep in each other’s arms.