Child Brides of India

By C. Stanton Leman

Chapter 7: Courtship (slow, rom, Mg, no sex)

After my morning ritual, I ended my morning prayers with the supplication given me by the Imam if I was contemplating marriage:

“O Allah! I intend to marry. Therefore destine for me the most chaste of women and one who would, for my sake, guard herself and my property. Who shall be most auspicious for increase in sustenance and bounties. Then from her womb bestow a pure child who would be my sweet reminiscence in my life and after my death.”

The only word I changed in my supplication was the word ‘son’. I felt that a child of either sex would be my sweet remembrance in life.

I arrived at breakfast to smiles and teasing looks with my mom being the usual agitator, saying things like, “Sean’s got a girlfriend, dah-dah-dee-dah-dah,” giggling all the while.

Dad, only slightly amused, just shook his head and continued reading the paper while he ate. Finished with breakfast, Dad headed off to the office and I was about to leave when Mom said, “Sean, all kidding aside, don’t rush things and be understanding of her and her family, okay?”

“I will, Mom. I’m kind of nervous — like the first day of high school. Silly isn’t it?”

“No, Son, it isn’t. Just like then, I assure you that you’ll be just fine. Now go! You’re keeping a beautiful girl waiting! Bye! Love you”

“Bye, Mom, love you too.” With that I left for Priya’s home.

I arrived at Priya’s a little before ten. They lived in a housing complex supplied to government workers. It wasn’t anything like our big, luxurious home; kind of like an American townhouse: neat, simple, but basic. I rang the bell and Salima answered the door and invited me in. We exchanged the obligatory Muslim greeting and Salima directed me to the dining room where Priya was sitting at the table. Their home was comfortable and clean, but spartan.

We gave each other the salaam greetings and sat. Salima told me that Sarah had gone to her grandmothers for few days and then said she’d get us some tea and stepped to the kitchen. Where we were seated at the table, we were in plain view of her mother while she worked.

Priya sat with her head slightly bowed, but said nothing. I silently gulped, thinking, Okay, chicken, I think she wants you to start talking. So I sat up in my chair and said, “So,” (great start asshole!), “You’ll have to excuse me, but I’m a little nervous.”

She said, “But why? I won’t bite you… yet,” giggling at the end.

Whoa! I thought, I think I’m gonna be a henpecked husband! That got me moving, so I said to her, “I don’t mind, just promise me you’ll be gentle.”

She replied, “I’m sorry for being so forward. I’m nervous too and it just slipped out. I really meant nothing by it. Sometimes I try to overcompensate for my insecurities.”

“Forget it. I do too. As for insecurities, after seeing you on several occasions, I haven’t seen any insecurity problems. In fact, I’m beginning to think you are more adept and secure than I am.”

“Oh, but you’re wrong! I’m very shy and insecure inside. It’s just that all my life I have had to be tough on the outside to hide my pain and fears to keep from having more taunts heaped upon me.” Looking down, she continued, “Ever since I was a little girl and went outside to play with other kids, I’ve been teased because of the color of my skin and it continues until today. I’ve had to work harder and try my best to prove to those around me that I’m smarter, quicker, and more assertive. I’ve tried very hard to convince others I’m a good and decent person despite being dark.

“One of the reasons my heart is filled with joy and love for you is that you see right into my soul. My soul is the real me. Inside, there is only a girl with love to give. Sean, please don’t be displeased with me for speaking so openly from the heart, but that’s how I feel and it feels like I’m bursting out and can be totally free with you without shame.”

I looked at her and said, “I know your skin color has been your greatest burden. I’m overjoyed that you know I love you anyway, but let’s put this issue to rest and look forward. I don’t ever want you to feel again that your color affects how I feel about you. In fact, I think your skin color is beautiful. I can’t imagine you being any other way. Besides, I simply adore your ‘chocolate blushes’!”

A beautiful chocolate blush!

Moving on to lighter fare, we talked about school, our perceptions and experiences academically. I learned that we had pretty much the same issues and insecurities of having to compete and interact with peers much older than ourselves.

I was surprised to find out that her family had only one old computer that the girls used for homework and I couldn’t believe that it ran on Windows ‘98! I vowed to correct this — and soon.

We were on a roll, joking and laughing about similar incidents in our academic life until I asked her about her mental aptitude. I asked her if she knew what her IQ was. She halted, and then softly said, “Does it matter?”

Puzzled, I replied, “It’s not a big deal, I was just curious, that’s all. Mine is 142.”

She looked down submissively, and said, “Mine’s kinda higher.”

“145?”

“Higher.”

“149??”

Almost audibly, she softly said, “A little higher.”

“151???”

“152. Oh Sean, please don’t hate me!”

I laughed, which made her look at me puzzled when she said, “Why is that so funny?”

Still laughing, I said, “I’m wondering what it’ll be like trying to keep up with you for a lifetime!” I know I’ll be henpecked!

Yes! Another chocolate blush!

Then she said, “You really don’t mind?”

“Why should I? My mom always said, ‘Behind every successful man is a smart woman telling him what to do!’”

With that, Priya and Salima burst out laughing: she’d been eavesdropping the whole time!

The three of us ate lunch and Salima told me a lot about Priya’s childhood, how she’s always been very sensitive and empathetic toward others, and being so sensitive is the reason she blushes so much.

I saw pictures of her as a baby and growing up. With each new detail I learned about her, my feelings for deepened.

I told Priya, with her mother present that I also would like to see her get her degree. I told her that I would put in our prenuptial agreement, which would basically be her dower from me to her, that we would also forgo having children until she had completed school. She had tears of happiness when I’d promised her this.

Priya was embarrassed a little when Salima told her that she’d made an appointment with her doctor on Saturday, three days hence, to have Priya put on birth control immediately so that she’s be safe in time for the wedding. It was getting close to dinnertime and I thought the last topic of discussion was enough for the day, so I asked Salima if she and Priya would like to come over to my home tomorrow at about the same time, and they agreed.

The rest of the evening went pretty quietly, at dinner and afterwards. I asked my mom about tomorrow and she was delighted. After eating, I bowed out for the night, said my prayers and supplications and went to bed. Sleep came quickly and very peacefully.

Priya and Salima arrived at ten am with the usual and customary greetings and we headed to the veranda to talk. My mom pulled out a couple of family albums she carries abroad with her. She said it was like carrying a piece of home wherever she went.

So now, it was Priya’s turn to see photos of me growing up and to my embarrassment, Mom (being the stinker she is) showed a blushing Priya my first nude photo (at two months old).

I kind of got ‘weeded out’ of the conversation when it turned to female chat about children and upbringing, ways to organize a home and such. I just sat there taking it all in with an occasional reply when called to do so. Mom, again poking fun at the men folk saying, “Men are harder to train than the children: sometimes they don’t play well with others, throw tantrums and require a lot more nose wiping and cuddles.” Leave it to Mom…

The next day was Friday and our holy day of prayer, so Priya and I didn’t meet.

On Saturday, Priya had her doctor’s appointment. We’d made arrangements for me to come over on Sunday so I went shopping. I’d earlier called our company’s computer supplier and told him what I needed. I bought a high-end desktop with a 22” flat monitor, a multifunction printer, a compact computer desk and two super fast laptops with high speed wireless cards: one for Priya and one for Sarah to use for and at school. All the computers were fully loaded.

I needed a cell phone so again I went to our company’s supplier and got Priya and me new cell phones with all the bells and whistles. I felt like a little kid in a candy store. Sunday would be a ‘Muslim Christmas!’ When I arrived at Priya’s about ten, Adib answered the door. After our greeting, I asked him to help me carry in some boxes. He quizzically helped with the booty asking “What’s all this?”

After greeting Priya and her mother, I turned to Adib motioning everyone to look saying, “This, is the American custom of Christmas — in June!”

I asked Salima to tear the paper covering off the boxes and the room filled with gasps and cheers. I then handed Priya her two gifts to unwrap. When she saw the picture of a cell phone on the box she squealed and fumbled, trying to open the box.

I told her, “I’ll show you how to use it in a minute, open the other package.” She tore the paper away like a five year-old on Christmas Day! When she realized it was a laptop, without thinking she leapt to her feet and wrapped her arms around my neck in a strangling hug. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around her. She was so small, my arms went completely around her and I had a tiny, soft breast bud in each hand. Feeling a twitch in my loins, I quickly started to firm. I caught myself and lowered my arms to her waist just reveling in holding my little pixie.

Adib smiled, then with an “Ahem”, Priya realized what she’d unconsciously done and there it was; a nice, deep, ‘chocolate blush’!

I told Adib that I’d have an IT guy from the company over to do any necessary wiring and that I’d make sure I got him a high speed connection also. I pulled Adib aside and told him that Sarah’s present was also a laptop for school, but to let her be surprised.

After spending about five minutes showing Priya how to use the phone, she set it aside to fire up the laptop and play. While Priya was engrossed with the laptop, I explained that we all understand what education means and that the proper tools mean better results. He wanted me to take it all back, but I told him it was a gift to my new family, nothing more.

The next morning, after arriving at Priya’s, Salima told me that Sarah and her grandmother (Salima’s mother) would be there soon. There, in a corner of the living room sat the new computer desk, complete with computer and printer.

We’d been chatting for about thirty minutes when Sarah and her grandmother arrived. Salima introduced us in the usual customary Muslim fashion and I studied her.

I immediately recognized where her mother, but more precisely, Priya got their looks. She was a mature woman of about sixty with a complexion slightly lighter that Priya’s. She had the same large, black, expressive eyes and the same radiant smile as Priya. She too was only about five feet tall and with a petite, but slightly rounded figure. She was dressed in traditional Muslim dress with a hijab (a headdress that covers the head and neck, only showing the face).

With the introductions complete, Priya and I returned to the dining room table, sat and began to talk. The three other women were quietly talking and giggling with occasional glances in my direction, so I guessed what their topic of discussion was about.

Priya said, “They’re talking about you. Your blonde hair, blue eyes and how handsome you are.”

It was my turn to blush, and I said, “Yeah, I guess my features can be a novelty.”

The three women quieted down and began speaking in hand covered whispers. After a few minutes, Salima and Sarah started to head (I guessed) to Sarah’s bedroom with her bags. Priya’s grandmother looked at us then followed the others.

I realized that at the moment, Priya and I were alone and unchaperoned for the first time. So did Priya! She quickly, as if on a lark, smiled demurely leaned over, pulled me to her with her left hand behind my head and gave me a soft, lingering, closed mouth kiss on the lips with our eyes locked on each other!

I was surprised (and suddenly hard), but then her eyes got as big as silver dollars and were looking towards the living room. She slowly broke the kiss and with her head down, sat back down in her seat. I waited for the end to come…

I was suddenly filled with a wave of horror expecting that this would be the end of our courtship and that because we had crossed the line, we’d broken the trust that her family had in her… and me. I was lost. The softness of her tiny lips overwhelmed me and I reacted with passion only to be followed by sadness in the realization that I might never taste her again.

Her grandmother walked over to stand between us and looked at Priya, who now had tears in her eyes. She put her hand under Priya’s chin and lifted her face to look at her. After a moment of silence, she softly said to Priya, “You’ve been a naughty little girl.”

“Yes, Me Ma, I’m sorry.” Priya whispered bowing her head down again.

“You child,” she began, “are just like your grandmother.”

Priya looked up in disbelief and her grandmother, now with a Mona Lisa type smile continued, “And like your mother too — but I didn’t tell you that, did I?” With that, Priya giggled, blushed, and shook her head no.

She went on, “An old woman needs a little fun in her life so we set you up. I caught your mother when she was courting, as did mine, and we thought it funny to continue the ‘tradition’. My advice to you would be to be more careful next time,” her voice becoming more serious continued, “but don’t make a habit of this. Do you understand? Your mother trusts both of you to do the right thing.”

Softly smiling at her grandmother, Priya said, “Yes, Me Ma, I understand.”

Priya’s grandmother looked at me, pinched a cheek in each hand, smiled and said, “I’ve never kissed a beautiful, blonde haired boy before,” and then proceeded to gave me a soft peck on the lips!

I was stunned! Priya stared at her me ma with open-mouthed shock. Then her grandmother looked at her with a devilishly child-like grin and said, “Now, we’ve both been naughty, haven’t we?” giggled, and blushed (That’s where she gets her chocolate blush from!). She then went to the ‘fridge to remove some mangos like nothing happened.

Priya and I sat in silence for a moment, trying to recover when the other two women suddenly entered the kitchen: Sarah, with her hand covered mouth giggling and Salima with her classic Mona Lisa smile. They stopped. There was a moment of silence and then everyone broke out in laughter.

After refreshments and lighthearted conversation, Priya gave Sarah her present. Perplexed, she opened the package and quietly began to cry. She was very humbled and appreciative for the gift, thanking me profusely while slowly running her hand over the box. She set it aside out of politeness, waiting to indulge herself later with her new present.

Shortly thereafter, I said goodbye to the ladies and headed for home. Upon returning home and at dinner, I related Sarah’s reaction to her new laptop and the ‘surprising’ events of the day. After I’d finished telling the story, both my parents laughed, and my mom said, “I like that woman!”

After dinner, I excused myself early, completed my evening ritual and went to bed dreaming of our first kiss.

Over the next week and a half, Priya and I talked of everything under the sun: about our families, differences in cultures and customs, our tastes in food, but also seriously about our fears and insecurities and all the things of ourselves we hid from the outside world.

We both admitted a strong reliance on our mothers and that we’d definitely have a marriage where our families were an integral part. She stated that she’d like to major in medical engineering and be a part of bringing new treatments and procedures to medicine. We agreed that waiting to have children was best for both of us: her for her schooling and me, because I didn’t feel ready to be a father yet.

At the end of the second week of courtship, I told my parents at breakfast that I was reasonably certain that Priya and I felt that it was time to ask Adib for Priya’s hand. My dad said, “Are you certain this is what you want? Are you absolutely certain?”

I replied with conviction, “Yes, Dad, more than anything else in the world!”

Mom, with tears in her eyes said, “Oh, Sean. I’m so happy for both of you!”

I called, trying to catch Adib at home before he left for work, and was fortunate when he answered the phone. We expressed our salaams and then I began, “Adib, is it possible for you to make time for us to talk about Priya and me?”

He replied, “I could go into work late if you’d like to meet this morning.”

“You’re more than kind,” I replied. “I can be there in about thirty minutes. Is that fine with you?”

“I’ll be waiting,” he answered. We said our goodbyes and I left to go meet with my future father-in law.

After arriving, Adib and I exchanged greetings and Priya was sitting on the couch with her mother, both sitting politely with heads down and their hands folded in their laps. Adib motioned me to the kitchen table while Priya and Salima remained seated quietly on the couch. Now, things would become a ritual of formality and custom where only the men talked of a young virgin’s future.

We sat, and I, silent for a moment, was trying to dislodge the frog in my throat when Adib laid his hand on mine and smiled. I began, “Adib, I have come to you this morning to humbly ask for Priya’s hand in marriage. I haven’t asked Priya yet, thinking it improper to do so without your permission, but I feel that we’re of one heart.”

He replied, “I give my consent and my daughter to you in marriage. Have you considered what dower you will present to Priya that will be acceptable for her to accept your proposal?”

“Yes sir, in order to make my offering legally binding, I thought I’d make our prenuptial agreement and Priya’s dower one in the same. I will stipulate in our agreement that I guarantee to pay for, and that she will be allowed to complete her education until she gets her degree. I also promise not to burden her with children so that she may devote all her energies to that end.

“I will set aside a trust fund for her in the amount to ten million U.S. dollars (audible gasps from the other room) to have and use as she sees fit. She will not, while we are married, ever have to touch a penny of this money to support any part of her life unless she so chooses. I will support her and our children completely. Any interest this trust gains is hers to keep, even in the event we divorce. I will amend my will to name her as sole beneficiary to my estate in the event of my death and we’re married at the time of my death, but will amend my will to include any and all children we may have. Any and all children: boys or girls will be provided for equally in my life and in my death.

“As a special wedding gift, I request that I be allowed to pay for Priya’s wedding clothes and those of Sarah and her mother. Is this dower an acceptable gift to Priya in your eyes?”

“As her guardian, if Priya accepts your proposal of marriage and dower, I give my consent. It is her decision, not mine, to either accept or reject the offered dower. Priya? Come here.”

Priya entered the kitchen with her hands folded in front of her and looked down submissively and said, “Yes, Papa?”

He took her hands in his and looking up into her eyes and said, “Priya, have you heard Sean ask for your hand?”

“Yes, Papa?”

“Do you accept the dower he has offered, or does it fall short in your eyes?”

“I accept, Papa. The proposal and the dower, it is pleasing to me. I consent to marry.”

From the around the corner, we heard a joyful squeal (I guess there’s more than one eavesdropper in this female tribe!)

Adib, with his chest out in pride, called to Salima and said happily “Salima, come here.”

Salima entered as her daughter did and said, “Yes, Adib?”

I spoke up and said, “I ask all of you to indulge me for a moment and let me do this the old fashioned western way.”

I looked lovingly at Priya and said, “I know the formality is over, but I want to ask you personally,” and I got down on one knee with Adib, Salima and now Sarah watching. Looking up I continued, “Priya, I cannot imagine a day in my life without you. I love you with all of my heart. Will you honor me with your love and marry me?”

Her face was beaming a warm smile, her tearful eyes wide and bright with joy and she said, “Yes! Yes, Sean, I’ll marry you!”

With tears running down her cheeks, Salima said, “Our daughter is getting married!”

I again sat, as did Priya, Salima and Sarah and I jokingly said to Adib, “Well, besides buying the rings, what do we do next? I’ve never even been to a Muslim wedding!”

Adib said, “First thing is to go straight to the registrar’s office to post the notice of marriage. I anticipated your intentions so while waiting for you, I called him and he knows we’re coming. Then, you and Priya may go purchase your rings, alright?”

I said, “Fine, let me call home with the news.” I pulled out my cell and dialed home. When Mom got on the line and I told her it was official, she let out an ear-piercing shout of joy.

I had a company chauffeur driven car waiting outside, so Adib, Priya and I left for the registrar’s office. On the drive there, Priya was on her cell prattling on a mile a minute in Tamil (I think) to her mother. We went in to the registrar’s office and signed the notice and paid the fee. Leaving the building, Adib said he was going to walk the block to work. He admonished Priya to behave chastely and left us after hugging and kissing her goodbye.

Once in the car, Priya flung her arms around me and kissed me hard, nearly climbing on top of me! When we came up for breath, she pulled back in the seat, and with the joy and anticipation every woman has about shopping said, “Can we go home and pick up Momma and Sarah, then pick up your mom also? They’re going to help me pick out my rings!”

“Sure, why not make it a family affair,” I said resigned.

Needless to say, I spent the afternoon being dragged around looking at rings. They were like a bunch of teenage girls at the mall with daddy’s credit card! I was occasionally asked my opinion, but as with women, this was their show; I was only there as the token groom. Priya finally settled on a beautiful one caret, round cut diamond solitaire in a platinum setting and a platinum wedding band with a row of diamonds across the top. She (they) picked mine out, also in platinum that matched hers. We waited while they sized our rings. On the way back to Priya’s home, she was too busy swooning over the ring on her tiny finger, flashing it and tittering with the ‘girls’. I just sat back and amusingly took it all in.

Mom and Salima agreed to a family dinner hat evening at eight to begin the planning of a Muslim wedding.

On the ride home, Mom squeezed my arm and said, “Oooh! This is going to be such fun!”