Child Brides of India

By C. Stanton Leman

Chapter 6: Decisions, Decisions (Mg, slow, rom, no sex)

After saying our 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 was still certain 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 gave me 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 could 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 eleven 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 want 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 eleven 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 chocolate colored 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 U.S. 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 eleven fucking 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 differing religious 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 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 U.S. Consulate. I left to do his bidding while he called Adib.

I called the embassy and was finally connected to the consul in charge of K-1 fiancé and K-3 spousal visas. He told me that the U.S. 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 are not considered valid and legal by the Indian or U.S. 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 went over 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 thirty 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 thirty 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 little finger last night, didn’t she?” then added a chuckle.

Dad just gave Mom a slight smile and an “Hmmf.”

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.

It seemed that by two pm, we were finished with our ‘research’. All we had to do was wait until that evening to meet with the Haaseems.

I went to my dad’s country club for a swim and to work out in the gym. I hadn’t done any exercise since arriving and needed to work off some tension anyway.

While working out, I kept getting distracted thinking of Priya. What would life be like having such a young and tiny bride? Does my size frighten her in any way? Waking up each morning: her off to school and me to run a company. Even though like she, I was ‘advanced’ at the same age, I still relied a lot on my mom. Would she need to be near hers? I was amused to think that one of my ‘husbandly’ duties would probably be to help her with her homework.

Thinking of intimacy, I had a vivid picture of the shape of her face in my mind, and what made her face so beautiful was, it seemed to me, that it looked perfectly symmetrical. I began to wonder what it would be like to kiss such a small mouth, to touch her small tongue with my own. She has a beautiful mouth, with that warm and inviting smile. The shape of her lips is not thin, but neither too full, sort of like a Nicole Kidman mouth.

She’s like a miniature woman in the making: her tiny frame, small hips, and her budding breasts: what would it be like to feast at her tiny developing nipples? What does the vulva of a chocolate girl that young look like? Feel like, smell like or… taste like? Does she even have any hair there yet? Would she enjoy making love or would she be frightened or terrified by our size difference? Could she accommodate me? Could a girl of that age harbor a passion for me as I do for her? Can she even climax? I was getting hard thinking of her body in such intimate terms and tried to quell the feelings within me that thought of her in such a way. I headed for, and indeed needed a cold shower!

I arrived home in time to say evening prayers; I had dressed in a casual pair of khaki pants and a long sleeve shirt with the sleeves slightly rolled up.

We pretty much ate in silence, none of us knowing what the evening ahead would bring.

The Haaseems arrived at seven. The mood was polite, but not as informal as last night. We made our obligatory Muslim greetings, greeting Adib, Salima and Sarah politely and friendly and moved to the living room. When I greeted Priya, she smiled with her chocolate blush and I said to her, “Assalamu aliakom. I’ve missed you.”

She answered, “Wa aliakum asslalm. I’ve thought of nothing but you.”

Our parents stood by and watched us greet then motioned us into the living room. My Dad started by saying, ‘I am not going to pretend that I know your usual custom in these situations, but here’s what I have in mind. Since what we decide tonight will affect all of our lives forever, then all — and I do mean all including Sarah, Priya and Sean need to be present and give their input. Do we all agree?”

Sarah said, in a mild tone, “I believe that this is between all of you. Everyone knows how I feel and I haven’t changed my convictions at all since last night. I’ll just sit on the side and listen if that’s okay with you?”

Dad said, “Fine. As you wish, but if you have a point to make, speak up, okay?

“Yes sir,” she replied.

“Adib? Salima? Is this acceptable to you?”

Both looked at each other and nodded.

Dad went on to explain what I’d learned from the U.S. Consulate and Adib said that he wasn’t surprised at all, pretty much knowing what they’d say.

Dad summed up the talking points by saying, “So, we all agree that if Priya and Sean begin this courtship, before they get married they need to file a thirty-day notice to do so, is that correct, Adib?”

“Yes, that’s correct. I will handle all of that on my own, but the two of them will have to accompany me to the registrar’s office to sign the notice and pay the fee.”

“All right. What kind of timetable do all of you suggest we should follow? Let’s brainstorm here and hear comments from everyone. Priya, you go first.

“Well, sir,” she began, “do you mean that I can freely speak my mind as an equal with you, Sean, Mrs. Michaels and my parents?

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Priya. It’s your life we’re talking about. If you’re old enough and mature enough to even consider marriage, then you’re entitled to speak with equal weight and consideration without any recrimination.”

“Then I will speak plainly without any fear. I believe that if the facts bear out what my heart already knows, I feel that we could possibly file our notice of marriage about the middle of next month, maybe sooner. That would allow us to marry right before Ramadan, possibly before school starts in September.”

Priya looked at me and smiled (and blushed again), then back to look Dad straight in the eye.

“Sean, what do you have to say?”

“I feel that Priya and I speak with one heart and mind. If our minds can verify what Allah has revealed to our hearts in a moment, then it won’t be long at all.” As I said this, I looked at Priya and smiled.

“Adib? Salima? Your thoughts please.”

Adib began by saying, “John, Sean, Joan, last night we shared with Priya all of our thoughts and observations that we’ve made over time regarding Sean when we were considering him for Sarah’s introduction. Because of this, Priya may know much more about Sean than he does of her. I believe that this is the reason for her quick timeline. Do you agree, Salima?”

“Yes, I agree. I also believe that all of our observations of their courtship will also either confirm or deny any attempt to rush things by them.”

My dad put in, “Adib, what Joan and I can’t understand, is that if Priya was a more suitable partner than Sarah as far as academics and maturity, why not introduce Priya first instead of Sarah?”

“John, I felt — and still do feel Sean is a man worthy of my daughter. I and I speak for Salima also; feel that at the time, because of her tender age, we were not moved by Allah to offer Priya. We’ve never thought of offering either of our daughters at such a young age. It is Allah, in His infinite wisdom that has chosen Priya.”

“Why?”

“Because we believe that Sarah’s account of the events of last night is correct. Allah provided a miracle and answered many prayers last night. We as well as Priya have joy and peace about her becoming a bride.”

Dad knelt down eye-to-eye with Priya, and said, “Priya, you are such a young girl. Do you have any fears? Do you fully understand how your life will be changed forever? Marriage is forever, for life, Sweetheart. Sometimes, decisions such as these alter our hopes and dreams: they can be replaced with bigger and better ones, or all that you’ve ever dreamed of may be lost forever. D o you fully understand this?”

Priya calmly smiled and replied, “Father. I have a Papa, but if I leave my parents home to live in this house, you will cherish me and protect me as a father, so I will call you ‘Father’.

“Father, although I am young in years, I am not a foolish baby. Yes, I do have fears just like anyone else. I will help my husband in all his endeavors, but in return he must help me achieve some of mine.

“Before I agree to marry any man, he must be willing to help me try to be what I am capable of being; otherwise, how may I help him prosper? I want to finish my education and get my degree. I want the world to see that a brown skinned Muslim girl can contribute something of value to the world. If a man can have a wife and do these things, why can’t I? My greatest fear is marrying a Muslim man who won’t treat me as a person and will snatch my dreams away. Maybe I think in a more western manner about women, but being Muslim shouldn’t keep me from my dreams nor should marriage, should it?” As my father-in–law, would you want any less for me as a daughter?”

We all sat in awe of this little pixie! She’d done it again. With every word she spoke, my love for her deepened. Yes, she’d done it again and wrapped my father around her little finger like toying with a strand of her hair.

Even though she’d opened the door to his heart and walked right in, he still couldn’t comprehend a child bride, and he asked her, “What of the duties of a wife: the intimate duties? The things men and women share that are sacred unto themselves?”

She blushed, smiled, and then proceeded. “I am capable of having children, and I’m a normal young woman, with the normal thoughts, feelings and desires of a young woman. The fire that Allah has lit burns deep within my heart and will certainly grow. When I am married, it will burn just as deep in my womb for my husband. You will have to wait for me to give you a grandchild, but I promise you, I will.”

I saw my father’s tears. This was the first time in my life I had seen my father shed a tear - for anyone or anything - but he cried. He reached for her and then stopped abruptly looking at Adib for permission. Adib nodded and my dad held her in his arms and said, “My dearest child, with your words, I do believe I’ve been touched by God.”

My father, not accustomed to being so emotional in front of others, coughed as if to clear his throat, stood and said, “Well, Joan, does it appear that we’re going to prepare for a wedding?”

Mom, wiping the tears from her cheeks smiled and said, “I think Salima, Sarah and I can do a better job with the wedding that you men can do with introductions!”

With that, everyone simply broke apart in uproarious laughter. With the weight and brevity of uncertainty and indecision behind us, we again retired to the veranda for refreshments and conversations of plans for the future.

Priya and I stepped a little ways off, and I said to her, “We will help each other achieve our dreams together!” With tear filled eyes, she nodded and smiled.

Priya then looked shyly submissive at me and said, “I know the answer in my heart,” lowering her head as she continued, “but I need to hear it from your lips…” she paused, then looked up at me and asked, “Does my skin color make you ashamed of me?”

I smiled at her and said, “It’s a part of you and you’re stunningly beautiful. I do love you completely, but to answer your question, I especially love how you wear it so beautifully.”

With that, she gave me a nice ‘chocolate blush,’ and giggled sweetly.

The hour was getting late, and Dad said that he and Adib had to work tomorrow, unlike the rest of us, so we called it a night. Priya asked her mother if I could come over the following day at ten to begin our courtship and Salima chuckled to my mother saying, “They don’t waste any time, do they?”

My mom laughed and said, “When you get sick and tired of him, send him home to momma!”

With that, all the girls had a laugh at my expense.

Priya said casually to me, “I’ll dream of you tonight, my blonde haired prince.”

Salima gently grabbed her arm and said, “Remember child, be chaste and humble before Allah, peace be unto Him, for what He giveth, He may also take away.”

“Yes, Mama,” she replied meekly, but she still gave me a tender smile while saying it. As she started to get in the car, I watched her turn and smile before Salima directed her inside to leave.

Returning to the living room to join Mom and Dad, we sat for a while drinking tea and Dad said, “Sean, as happy as I am for you and as much as I look forward to having Priya as a daughter-in-law, I can’t feel totally at peace until I see a valid marriage certificate in your hands.”

I replied, “You will Dad… you will.”