Child Brides of India

By C. Stanton Leman

Chapter 61: Saying Goodbye (Mgg, rom, cons,)

We arrived home about ten. We sat in the dining room and Dad commented, “Sweet Jesus, Joan, she looked absolutely beautiful. When I saw her dressed like an Indian bride, I just lost it.”

Mom smiled and replied, “It seems so strange, in a spiritual way, that it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but at the same time one of the simplest of tasks. As I was washing her I pictured Mary washing the body of our Lord and what she must have felt as she anointed Him with oils and wrapped Him in linen. I know that I was washing only a shell, but for a few moments, it felt like I could sense her spirit was with us.”

Leeya climbed in my lap and said, “Emmy was really beautiful wasn’t she, Sean? I told her to get the yellow dupatta. She even smelled beautiful.”

“Like I said, Sweetie,” I replied, “she is the most beautiful bride in heaven.”

“I feel…” Priya said in low humble tone, “I feel responsible for her dying.”

Mom turned to her and laying her hand on hers replied, “Why would you think such a thing?”

Priya looked up and said, “Because I told everyone that she would be Sean’s wife and we brought her here to India. If she hadn’t come, she’d still be alive.”

I tried to point the flaw in her thinking by saying, “Nonsense! By her own admission, Emmy said that she’d fallen in love with me a year ago. Your premonition only verified what every one of us believed was ordained by God. Don’t do this to yourself; it’s self destructive and simply not true.”

Mom nodded and added, “Sean’s right, Sweetie, God has written the number of our days in His book. We get no more time that He’s allotted to us. God deemed it her time and there’s nothing anyone could have done to change that.”

“I don’t know,” Priya said, “it’s just that it doesn’t seem right that she should die. I’ve never had anyone close to me die before and I can’t find a reason. Why did she have to die?”

Mom said comfortingly, “Because God called her and it was her time. All we can do is try to accept it and move on with our lives. You, Leeya and Sean have your whole lives ahead of you. Spend that time building your family and loving each other. God seems to make things come out all right if we trust Him. Does that make any sense?”

“Yes, I guess so,” Priya answered. “It’s just so hard and it hurts so much. Momma, I know that you’re not Muslim but you have taught me more about the love of God than anyone!”

Mom smiled at her and said, “That makes me feel very humbled. It is my belief that Christians, Jews and Muslims [and I only put them in alphabetical order] believe in the very same God. We just do it differently. It’s so very sad that over centuries, there still continues to be bloodshed over our belief in God, and in the name of God when we are all brothers and sisters believing in the same God. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“Sean, Priya, Leeya?” Mom said, “All of you need to remember something. The pain you’re feeling is directly proportional to the love you shared with Emmy. God knows you loved her very much or you wouldn’t be hurting so much. Losing that love is what hurts, but remember what Leeya said about love: love heals, it doesn’t hurt. Love each other and that love will, in time, heal your hearts. Right, Munchkin?”

“Right, Momma,” Leeya said.

“Well,” Dad said, “we’ve got another big day to get through tomorrow so I suggest we get some sleep.”

Everyone agreed, so we rose, said our goodnights and went upstairs.

Being distraught and somewhat overwhelmed by the events of the day, I’d forgotten when a Muslim handles a corpse they need to follow a ritual of bathing while praying certain ablutions.

I asked Priya about it and she found the required ritual and prayers amongst one of her books. We took turns washing ourselves in the tub while reciting the proper prayers. It took us about an hour to complete. After bathing, we readied for bed.

Leeya was very somber and withdrawn. Without saying a word, I lay down beside her, scooped her up in my arms and embraced her. She clung to me tightly and just sobbed. I held her to me and let her cry. She cried for a good ten minutes before crying herself out.

When she was composed enough to speak, she whispered, “I can’t stop thinking that you’re gonna die and I’m scared.”

“Shhh,” I soothed her, “it’s normal to have feelings like that when someone we love dies suddenly”

I tickled and joked with her and scowled, “But I ain’t gonna die! I’m too horny to die yet. Both of you are stuck with me forever!”

Leeya pushed me away giggling sand said, “Stop it! I’m serious!”

I looked at her questioningly and asked her, “What do you want me to say? I’m not gonna die! I’m not! I only made a joke to make you laugh, not to treat your feelings like they didn’t matter.”

I sat her up and grabbed both her arms and said, “Look. What Mom told me is true. I think we all need to remember that every day we go about our lives, think about everyday things, thinking life is wonderful and that things will always be this way. We are selfish and only think about our problems and what we want to do or not do and we sometimes forget what’s important in life. What’s important is to always say to those we love “I love you”. We need to give each other lots and lots of hugs and kisses and do nice things for people. Emmy’s death should make us realize that we should always try our best to love each other every single day. I can’t tell you when I’ll die. When God says, “Come home,” I’ll go, but we can’t live in fear of death. I think Emmy’s death has made us think about how important we are to each other and how much it would hurt if we were not here. That’s why you’re scared. If we remember how important we are to each other, we’ll get better and soon we’ll be happy again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand,” she replied, but added with emphasis, “you just better not die or I’ll kill you!”

Snickering I replied with a smile, “Well, I don’t wanna git kilt, so I better not die, right?”

Leeya smiled with an affirmative nod and replied, “Right!”

I looked at Priya and she smiled, slapped my arm and replied, “Right!”

“Alright number one and two,” I said as I pulled them both down on their backs next to me, “I need some cuddles. How about you?”

“Yeah,” Priya added, “lots of cuddles!”

Leeya pinched my butt and said, “Hey, don’t forget me too!”

I grabbed each of my wives in a one-armed hug and squeezing them to me said jokingly, “Ah, two beautiful girls to sleep with, it doesn’t get any better that this!”

Leeya reached around, squeezed my dick and said, “You letch!”

In mocking surprise I replied, “Hey, where’d you hear that? Has Priya been telling lies on me again?”

“I got ears,” she said coyly, “and I ain’t dumb either.”

“You little nymphos should talk,” I chided, “Maybe I should call each of you letchettes. How’s that sound?”

“Stupid,” Priya giggled, “nymphos is better.”

“What’s a nympho,” remarked Leeya

“A nympho,” I answered, “is a very, very horny and naughty girl.”

“You’re right, Priya, we’re nymphos,” Leeya quipped, “but he’s still a letch.”

“Alright you two little harlots,” I replied, “Let’s get some sleep.”

“What’s a harlot?” Leeya asked.

“Go to sleep number two,” I jokingly ordered.

Both girls said in unison, “Goodnight, Letch.”

“Goodnight, Nymphs,” I replied.

In silence as we tried to get to sleep, I knew that deep inside we were all hurting but it felt good to joke a little. It felt good to laugh and take our minds off of morbid thoughts: even if it was only for a few minutes. I lay awake for probably an hour as I recalled the day’s events. My mother’s words resonated in my mind, “…but He will mend it with something just a precious if not more than what it cost you. Trust Him.”

I made a vow to myself right then and there that whatever God’s reason was for taking Emmy away, I would watch closely for the test He was preparing me for and grab it by the horns. I wanted that blessing my mother spoke about. I’m going to embrace the pain. I’ll go through the change because I want to make Emmy’s death really mean something in my life!

_________________________________

I don’t know what time I went to sleep but I was awakened at six by Priya. I groggily got up and we took a family shower. I took the time to take notice and relish the beauty of my two wives: their skin colors, textures and curves. Leeya had only the curve of her tiny butt cheeks, but to me, she had a feminine beauty I loved all the same.

Mom said that she wanted me to wear my wedding sherwani, pants, shoes and kufi hat to the funeral. I asked her why and she replied, “Because I want to celebrate her living.”

“All right, Mom,” I replied. “If that’s what you want.”

As I dressed, the girls started to cry when they saw me putting on my bridal clothes. Priya said, “You can never wear those again to a wedding now that you’ve worn them to a funeral, it’d be bad luck.”

“Well,” I replied, “I don’t plan on getting married soon. Do you have any more premonitions on the subject?”

“No,” she said, “I don’t know where we go from here. Emmy’s death has shaken my confidence about life. I will follow you and let you lead this family.”

Leeya, seeing an opening said, “Okay then, let’s change places: I’ll be number one wife and you can be number two.”

“Unfortunately,” Priya responded, “I will have to die for you to be number one wife. Do you still want to be number one?”

Shaking her head vigorously she replied, “No! I’d never want to be number one at that price!”

“Come on girls,” I said, “let’s finished getting dressed.”

The girls finished one at a time. Priya dressed in an ivory white sari and after she’d finished dressing, helped Leeya wrap her shell white sari around her tiny body. When we were all dressed, we went downstairs.

No one was in any mood to eat breakfast, so we just had tea and English muffins. Monaavi arrived at eight and I was surprised at how attractive she looked. She wore a pure white sari with hand painted turtledoves on it.

After our light breakfast, we readied ourselves and left for the cemetery at nine. Upon arriving at the cemetery, we were met by the Haaseems. Haseeba was with them and she appeared to be hiding behind Sarah. I called for Haseeba to step forward so I could embrace my ward since I hadn’t seen her in a while.

Haseeba reluctantly stepped from behind Sarah and I immediately knew something didn’t look right. I looked at her right in the eye and she had a guilty look on her face and I asked, “Tell me, Haseeba, what’s the problem. Something’s wrong and you don’t look right. Come here; let me get a better look.”

She had her head down as if embarrassed about something and when she turned into the light, I saw it: a bruise under her left eye.”

I grabbed her left arm, pulled her to me and tilted her face up and into the sun to get a better look. I asked her “What happened, fall down or something? Before you answer, let me warn you, don’t you fucking lie to me or I will be angry! Now, how’d you get that bruise?”

Haseeba hung her head in shame, began to cry and replied, “Sean, you have been like a father to me and I’ll not lie to you. After you spoke to Mahmoud, he came home angry that I had spoken to others about his orders that I not go to college. We got into a big fight because he also wanted me to stop taking birth control, but I continued behind his back. When he found my pills, he hit me.”

”Why didn’t you leave the house, call me, anything but stay with that fucking animal?” I asked.

With her head buried in my shoulder and sobbing, Haseeba added, “He smashed my cell phone and I was scared, Sean,” she replied with frustration, “I was afraid that he’d beat me up if I tried to leave.”

Holding her in my arms, I turned to Adib and said, “You knew about this?”

“I found out about it this morning. Sean,” Adib explained. “I saw the bruise just like you did when we picked her up this morning. Mahmoud has left the house. I don’t know where he is.”

“I’ll find that fucker,” I vowed with a vengeance. “If I have to pay for someone to find him and beat the living shit out him, I’ll get him! No man is ever going to touch one of the women in my family like that and get away with it!”

Adib touched my arm and asked contritely, “Mercy please, Sean, have mercy on him.”

I shot him a look that would kill a king and said, “After I have personally bruised him as he bruised his wife, then I might have mercy and let that slimy piece of shit live without being disfigured or disabled!”

I grabbed Haseeba’s arms, gave her a quick shake and ordered her, “You will, from this day live forward in my house; tomorrow we go to the Imaam and get you a divorce and you get on with your life, understood?”

Nodding, Haseeba replied, “Yes, Sean, I’ll obey you as my father.”

Adib looked scared and I snarled at him, “You’d better be scared because I will repay him seven times what he heaped on his wife. If you try to help him in any way, you’ll pay right along with him. I make an oath to Allah!!”

Everyone gasped and Priya said, “Surely you don’t swear on Allah’s name?”

Turning to her with anger I shot back, “I swore it, it shall come to pass!”

I went to the limo and got a bottle of water. I needed to calm down so that I could attend Emmy’s funeral in a somewhat proper frame of mind. Things quieted down after everyone realized that the matter was closed: I would find that wife-beating piece of shit and extract my revenge.

Leeya walked over to me at the car and asked, “You’re gonna beat my daddy up aren’t you?”

Looking at her directly I answered, “Yes, Sweetie, I am. He’s hurt his wife and he deserves to be punished just like your mother needed to be punished for beating you.”

“Let the Imam do it,” Leeya asked. “Let them carry out your vow. That way you don’t make yourself God and judge.”

I think I’d just been scolded by a five your-old with the truth, so shaking my head I replied, “If and when I find him, I’ll take your advice and turn him over to the Imam, does that meet with your approval, little wife?”

“Thank you for hearing me.” Leeya said as she hugged me. “You always treat me like your wife and not a baby. I can accept whatever the Imaam does to him. I just don’t want to have a curse come upon you from being as low as him.”

Chuckling, I asked her, “You sure you’re only five, or are you woman just hiding in a little girl’s body?”

With a cute, curt twirl, she started to walk back to the others and giggled over her shoulder, “I’d like to think I’m a lotta woman for five.”

Being put in my place I simply agreed by saying, “That you are, Babe, that you are!”

Having been duly chastened, I returned to the family. I asked Mom who was going to lead the service. She said that Dad had contacted a Baptist missionary to preside over the funeral. I asked Mom why the wedding garb and what she had planned as a eulogy. She told me that she planned on a eulogy of love taken from the Song of Solomon. She wanted to focus on our love and not on her death.

We went inside and I was surprised to see Emmy’s casket was on display with open lid and placed on an inclined platform facing the audience.

The Haaseem’s along with Haseeba gasped with awe at Emmy’s beauty. Haseeba commented that she was the most beautiful girl that they had ever seen.

Once seated, the minister began the service with us singing “Amazing Grace.” After some prayers and readings from the Bible, Mom stepped to the podium. She began with, “As I thought about what I could say that would convey what kind of girl Emily Marie Michaels truly was, it dawned on me that the very reason she came to India was because of the deep and intense love she had in her heart for Sean.”

Opening her Bible, Mom said, “So today, I would like to celebrate Emmy’s love. Her dying wish was to be buried in her wedding dress. It was her desire, in her love for her cousin, to come to India and become a beautiful Indian bride in all its reality. So as we gaze upon Emily Marie the bride, let me read from a book of love from God’s word. All of what I will read is the expressions of love between King Solomon and his bride, a Shulammite girl. She was reputed to be the most beautiful in all of Israel. It is most fitting in its imagery, having an ancient oriental tone to it.”

Mom began her Biblical parallel narrative with, “Emmy fell in love with Sean at the age of seven and pined for him until his return to her one month ago:

“Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth— for your love is more delightful than wine.

Pleasing is the fragrance of your perfumes; your name is like perfume poured out.

No wonder the maidens love you!

Take me away with you—let us hurry! His left arm is under my head, and his right arm embraces me.

My lover spoke and said to me, "Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, and come with me.”

“Upon reuniting with his cousin,” Mom continued her tale: “Sean is smitten with love for Emmy and expresses his heart to her:

“You have stolen my heart, my sister, my bride; you have stolen my heart with one glance of your eyes, with one jewel of your necklace.

How delightful is your love, my sister, my bride!

How much more pleasing is your love than wine, and the fragrance of your perfume than any spice!

Your lips drop sweetness as the honeycomb my bride; milk and honey are under your tongue. The fragrance of your garments is like that of Lebanon.

You are a garden locked up, my sister, my bride; you are a spring enclosed, a sealed fountain.”

“The similarities,” Mom said “are striking: Emmy was an only child as we listen further:”

“But my dove, my perfect one, is unique, the only daughter of her mother, the favorite of the one who bore her.

The maidens saw her and called her blessed; the queens and concubines praised her.”

“Sean was smitten,” Mom continued, “As are all that cast eyes upon Emmy’s beauty, of which her lover gives her praise:”

“How beautiful you are, my darling! Oh, how beautiful!

Your eyes behind your veil are doves. Your hair is like a flock of goats descending from Mount Gilead.

Your teeth are like a flock of sheep just shorn, coming up from the washing. Each has its twin; not one of them is alone.

Your lips are like a scarlet ribbon; your mouth is lovely.

Your temples behind your veil are like the halves of a pomegranate.

Your neck is like the tower of David, built with elegance. On it hang a thousand shields, all of them shields of warriors.

Your two breasts are like two fawns, like twin fawns of a gazelle that browse among the lilies.

Until the day breaks and the shadows flee, I will go to the mountain of myrrh and to the hill of incense.

All beautiful you are, my darling; there is no flaw in you.

How beautiful your sandaled feet, O prince's daughter!

Your graceful legs are like jewels, the work of a craftsman's hands.

Your navel is a rounded goblet that never lacks blended wine. Your waist is a mound of wheat encircled by lilies.

Your head crowns you like Mount Carmel. Your hair is like royal tapestry the king is held captive by its tresses.

How beautiful you are and how pleasing, O love, with your delights!

Your stature is like that of the palm, and your breasts like clusters of fruit.

I said, "I will climb the palm tree; I will take hold of its fruit." May your breasts be like the clusters of the vine, the fragrance of your breath like apples, and your mouth like the best wine.”

“And like all those that share an unquenchable love,” Mom said, “Sean and Emmy shared a measure of intimacy:”

“I slept but my heart was awake. Listen! My lover is knocking: "Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one. My head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night."

I have taken off my robe— must I put it on again?

I have washed my feet— must I soil them again?

My lover thrust his hand through the latch-opening; my heart began to pound for him.

I arose to open for my lover, and my hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with flowing myrrh, on the handles of the lock.

His left arm is under my head and his right arm embraces me.

Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you: Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires.”

“Like Solomon’s Shulammite bride,” Mom narrated, drawing yet more parallels said, “Emmy had sisters that sought to protect her from her passion and protect her innocence until her marriage:”

“We have a young sister, and her breasts are not yet grown.

What shall we do for our sister for the day she is spoken for?

If she is a wall, we will build towers of silver on her.

If she is a door, we will enclose her with panels of cedar.”

Mom said as she closed her requiem of love, “And finally, once passed and now a spirit, Emmy finds that death can only keep them apart physically, but that love transcends death and time and space:

“I opened for my lover, but my lover had left; he was gone.

My heart sank at his departure. I looked for him but did not find him. I called him but he did not answer.

Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame.

Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot wash it away.

If one were to give all the wealth of his house for love,

It would be utterly scorned.”

Mom was gently crying as she finished her eulogy by saying, “Sleep my little angel, sleep. Sleep the blissful sleep of longing and waiting for you lover to return. It is said that it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. Emily Marie Michaels loved and she loved with a pure and consuming love. She goes to heaven with a gift that many of us pine in our hearts to have tasted. As we lay her to rest in this land of mystery, she is content in knowing that she truly was… a child bride of India.”

Mom slowly left the rostrum and silently sat. Dad put his arm around her as she, along with the rest of us, silently cried. The minister ended the service with a prayer of hope and the hymn “It Is Well with My Soul.”

When the service had ended, I closed and locked the lid on Emmy’s casket. Dad, Adib, the minister and I carried Emmy to the waiting hearse and we walked behind the hearse to the gravesite. We placed her coffin on the stand, overtop the grave and took our places,

After several readings from the Bible, we bid our farewell to Emmy with each of us laying a single rose on her coffin. Everyone placed a white rose symbolizing purity, innocence and youthfulness, while I placed a blood red rose symbolizing romantic and sincere love, courage and passion.

Weeping, we turned and left to continue our lives without Emmy. On the way home, Mom and the girls wept fretfully as Dad and I tried in vain to comfort them. Having made my vow to God, I felt a peace, a quiet strength in knowing that there was a purpose to Emmy’s death and that I would soon come face to face with that reason. God would not unnecessarily torment me by delaying His will.

Once home, we had a small family wake in which Muslims and Christians came together in prayer for comfort, peace and healing. After we’d prayed, Mom said with a sigh, “Now comes the hard part: the part of living without Emmy in our lives. Let us come together and promise to love, cherish and protect our families from the sorrows of this life with His enduring grace.”

Salima embraced my mother and softly said, “I have come to the realization that we are all God’s children and worship the same God. May the peace of Allah, all praise and glory be His, bring you His enduring peace and comfort in your time of sorrow.”

Mom kissed her cheek, smiled and replied softly, “He has given me peace. I now need His comfort and grace to continue.”

While we were all sitting in the living room, I said solemnly, “In keeping with Mom’s invocation to protect our family, there a matter that I feel needs to be addressed immediately. Haseeba has been abused and her future is in turmoil. I need for this family, both families to help me protect one of our own against a fellow family member.”

“Haseeba,” I continued, “entered into a solemn marriage in good faith and love based on the promises made by her husband, Mahmoud. Promises he made to her and to me. He has broken that faith along with his promises and has abused his wife. No woman should live in fear of her husband, nor should she suffer because of his sin.”

I went on by saying, “The Koran teaches that “None honors women except he who is honorable, and none despises them except he who is despicable. (Hadith).”

I went on to say, “Mahmoud has proven himself to be a despicable man. I understand that repression and society impose a certain dispossession on Muslims in India, and with dispossession come poverty, certain inferiority, a demeaned self-image and other forms of inferiority. The patriarchal nature of Muslim marriage places the man in a position of great power over his wife or wives and with it comes a great responsibility and duty that is a privilege a woman submits herself to in good faith.”

I pointed out “Mahmoud has abused this privilege many times. He’s neglected this privilege by allowing Tallie to abuse Leeya, and continuing his behavior of blind neglect and insensitivity by ignoring his responsibilities to Leeya and by treating his vows to Haseeba with contempt. For this he needs to be punished. Leeya has pointed out to me that the best way to handle this is to turn the matter over to the Imaam.”

I began to lay out my plan by saying, “This is what I propose to do. I would like to use Dad’s investigator to locate Mahmoud. After finding him, turn him over to the Imaam for punishment and for Haseeba to obtain a divorce. I will take back possession of their home, of which I still have 51% ownership and I will sign over the deed to her.”

I pointed out that Mahmoud offered only his love and promises as a dower, which Haseeba accepted in good faith to be worthy of his promise. Since his profession of love and commitment mean nothing, he owes her nothing as payment except her freedom.

I said to everyone, “I owe this man nothing and will terminate his employment with our firm. I expect people that work for me to be honorable and trustworthy and he has proven that he cannot be trusted. What happens to him will be between him and God. I only ask that as his brother, Adib, you do what is right and cast him away for our families’ sake. If Mahmoud has any further contact with Haseeba, I will directly extract a pound of his flesh for harassing her.”

Adib, looking down in shame, sighed and said, “I disown him as we have disowned Tallie. He poses not only a physical threat but also a spiritual one to our family. I will follow you Sean in this matter and accept the Imam’s decision”

“I will find him,” I replied, “then we’ll let matters take their course. Now, where is Haseeba going to stay in the meantime? If she stays here, she’ll have to share a room with one of the girls until I can have an addition put on the house. How about if she returns and stays with Sarah?”

Sarah took Haseeba’s hand and replied, “I’d be more than happy for her to stay with me, Momma, Papa?”

Adib and Salima nodded and Adib replied, “She is as a daughter to me according to our faith. She is welcome in love to share our table.”

Mom said, “Good. It’s settled then. Haseeba, you’ll stay with Sarah and Sean will take care of the rest, agreed?”

With tears on her cheeks as she silently cried, Haseeba nodded.

Adib said to Haseeba, “We’ll go to your house and collect some of your things until it’s safe for you to return home, alright”

“Yes, Sir,” she replied,

With that said, everyone seemed to think that we should call an end to our meeting. We said our salaams to the Haaseem’s and Haseeba, and the girls gave their family kisses and hugs as they departed.

Once settled again in the living room, Priya asked Monaavi if she’d like to stay for dinner, but she said that she was saddened by the day’s events and felt like going home.

Monaavi made the comment that she’d never seen such a beautiful girl and that Emmy was the most beautiful Indian bride she’d ever seen. I summoned our driver and we politely said our salaams as Priya and Leeya accompanied her home.

As Mom and Dad went to the dining room, I retreated to the study to be alone with my thoughts. I was in deep internal turmoil. Turmoil over the fact that we’d just laid Emmy to rest and trying to grieve in a positive way, but having to deal with Haseeba and the problem of Mahmoud made it vividly clear that life does go on and we need to tend to the living.

As I replayed Mom’s eulogy over in my head, I pondered her words. Understandably, she spoke of an idyllic love. I, for my part, felt that I’d failed Emmy miserably. I had such a myopic view towards her, blinded by her beauty. I was captivated by the physical and all the while fooling myself and ignoring my own lesson of trying to get her to see that there is more to love than the very thing I only concentrated on.

I wanted her so much, lusted for her to the point I felt that I may have denied her the very thing she needed most from me: love - pure love for love’s sake. Could I have loved her if she wasn’t so beautiful? What if she were defective, deformed or handicapped in some way? What if she needed a non-sexual love, could I have met her needs?

My demon hadn’t consciously reared its ugly head in quite a while: was I ignoring the existence of this part of me? What of my desire for a young girl’s charms: had I convinced myself that I could indulge myself without any consequences to my life or a young girl’s, while at the same time craving her with such intensity without a cost?

With horrid shock, I wondered if that cost was Emmy’s life? What if I was the cause of Emmy’s death? What if she had to die for me to see the potential harm I could cause a child by partaking of such pleasures? So far I had been lucky in that the girls I have married and loved as children have benefited and grown out of that love. What will the future hold for me? How can I be so sure that Priya’s certainty about me not wanting another child’s charms is true?

Would I? Could I desire my own child? A craving such as mine cannot surely just go away… can it?

Would I embrace the challenge? Could I dare look at myself and give a prepubescent or pubescent girl that I loved and cared for a pure, nurturing, non-sexual love for the enrichment of her spirit and purely for love’s sake? With a sigh, I somehow knew that I would get the answer to all these questions in due time. I also shuddered to think that I’d be tested with the very thing I craved so much.

I was roused from my introspection by the sound of my young wives’ return. I asked how Monaavi was: she seemed visibly shaken by the events of the day. Priya said that she was just overwhelmed by the sight of such a young girl’s death. It especially hit home for her because she has spent so much time nurturing and teaching young girls.

It was now five. None of us felt much like eating, but we knew we had to eat something. Pita made a large garden salad and we sat in relative silence as we all picked at and tasted our food. Even our parents, normally encouraging during times such as these, were of the same frame of mind.

After attempting to eat at least something, we retired upstairs for evening prayers and bed. After praying, both Priya and Leeya hugged themselves to me and Priya spoke for the two of them saying “Sean, make love to us, make us feel alive again…”