Child Brides of India

By C. Stanton Leman

Chapter 70: Faatina’s Wedding (Mgg, rom, cons, no sex)

The girls got home from Monaavi’s about seven the night before. They said that they’d already eaten, so we decided to head upstairs. We said evening prayers and settled into bed early. All three of us were unusually quiet knowing what lay ahead tomorrow. I slept fretfully most of the night, not really falling asleep until about five. Priya awakened me at six-thirty by shaking my arm and telling me to get up. I groggily opened my eyes and looked at her smiling face.

She kissed me and said, “Today’s the big day. Get up and take your shower. We have to say prayers, so that Leeya and I can go to Monaavi’s and get Faatina ready.”

Nodding I rose. Priya had left. I stood in the shower trying to wake up and meet the day. I wept as I thought of Faatina. What will I tell her one day when she’s older: that she was married and divorced by her father as a child? Uncertain as how to answer my own question, I composed myself to follow this through.

Priya and Leeya returned twenty minutes later. We finished prayers at almost eight and went downstairs. I got a cup of coffee and sat next to Dad. Seeing my condition, he asked, “You alright?”

“As good as I’m gonna get, I suppose,” I replied.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “I know what you mean.”

Mom came in and said, “Now, Sean, you need to be there by eleven-thirty, okay?”

“Yes, Mom,” I replied, “I know. Just remember what I said. That fucker doesn’t touch her.”

“I’ll do my best, Son,” she responded, “but if he has to hold her during the ceremony, there’s nothing I can do.”

“Who’s going to be witnesses?” Dad asked.

“Adib and one of the clerics,” I replied.

Mom said, “Well, we’d better be going.”

With that she rose, kissed Dad and leaned over and kissed me on the top of my head and said, “It’ll all work out, just have faith.”

She got to the dining room door, turned and said, “And Sean?”

I looked back when she spoke and asked “Yes, Mom?”

“I love you, Son.” she said as she turned and left.

“I love you too, Mom,” I replied.

I rose and followed and met my two wives at the door. I kissed them goodbye and Leeya said, “Thank you, Sean for saving my cousin.”

I stroked the side of her face and replied with a smile, “You don’t need to thank me, Sweetheart. I love you.”

“I love you lots more,” she replied with a hug.

The women in my life turned and left for Monaavi’s. Returning to the dining room, I sat with Dad and we talked of the details. After we’d been talking for almost an hour, Dad handed me an envelope and said, “Here, here’s a copy of your new will adding Faatina and her trust fund. If they ask, you’ll need to explain that it will take about a week to legalize the trust fund in her name in the U.S., all right?”

“Fine, Dad,” I responded. “I don’t think they’ll ask. I guess we’d better get ready, it’s almost ten.”

“Reckon so,” he replied as we rose.

It took both of us about thirty minutes to dress. When he saw my attire, he remarked, “That looks good on you. Who picked it out?”

With a chuckle I replied, “Monaavi did.”

“Humm,” he said surprised, “Smart, pretty and has good taste too?”

We waited about fifteen minutes, collected our things and left for the hall. This wedding wouldn’t be like most normal weddings. It would be a simple religious ceremony with only a select few relatives, followed by the meal. The entire function would only last probably several hours.

We arrived at eleven forty-five and went to an adjoining room waiting to be called. About five before the hour, a cleric joined us and surprisingly he spoke English. He told me that they knew of the circumstances of this wedding and that he, acting as a witness, would position himself between Amaad and us. I asked him who would attend to Faatina and he replied that Priya, as first wife would be holding her. He asked if I was ready and I nodded silently. He motioned to the door and I stepped through to marry for the third time.

The sight in the room was almost surreal. There were only Dad and Salima’s other brother-in-law sitting in the male section, with the females being Mom, Salima, Me Ma, Alpa, Sarah, Haseeba and Monaavi. The cleric moved me to position with Adib standing slightly behind me. I stood with Priya on my left holding Faatina and Leeya on my right. The cleric stood between Priya and Amaad.

Leeya wore a lemon yellow (of course) hand painted sari with blue peacocks on the pallu. Priya was dressed in a pink hand painted sari and held Faatina who wore a deep blue, shimmering flared one-piece dress with the skirt portion intricately embroidered and overlaid with sequins and stones. On her head was a dark blue crepe dupatta. I could see through the veil that her hair had been pinned up in a formal style and it looked like she had a diamond-type stone fastened in the center her forehead. She looked as she was named: a tiny, lovely captivating angel.

Imam stood and after a litany of prayers and readings from the Koran, Imaam looked at Amaad and said, “Today we will witness a solemn pledge between Sean Michaels and Faatina Hirsi. I ask you now in the presence of God and this congregation to declare your intent.”

Amaad began, “I have given my only virgin daughter, Faatina Hirsi to Sean Michaels in marriage.”

Imam asked Priya, “As first wife, do you sanction this marriage?”

“I do, Imam,” replied Priya,

Looking at Leeya he asked, “As second wife, do you sanction this marriage?”

“Yes, Imam, I do,” Leeya answered.

Looking at Amaad he asked, “And what sign can the child give as to acknowledgement that she knows the groom or has at least met him?”

As if by a sign from God, Faatina leaned over and outstretched her arms for me to hold her.

Observing this, Imam declared, “The bride has acknowledged.”

Taking Faatina in my arms, Imam asked me, “Do you accept Faatina Hirsi as your wife?”

“I have accepted her,” I replied.

I then laid the will on the table and Amaad, the witnesses and I signed it. We then signed the Nikaahnama (Muslim marriage license) and stepped back.

After some more readings, Imaam said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife, In the name of God, The Most Gracious, the Most Merciful.”

The ceremony completed, we moved to have the meal with me carrying my tiny baby bride to eat. As soon as we sat to eat, Faatina yanked the dupatta from her head. Priya smiled and said, “Mom said it wouldn’t last long.”

About half way through the meal, Faatina became antsy. I thought she might be getting hot and uncomfortable so Priya took her to an adjoining room to change her. Priya returned with the tiny bride now wearing a cool, pink summer dress with the white sandals she wore yesterday. After the meal was finished, Alpa came up to us and I handed her her child. She held her daughter lovingly as she rocked her and wept quietly.

Watching her, I started to cry remembering my mother’s words to Priya: “…The hardest job you’ll ever have to do as a parent is to let your children go… If you love them, you’ll let them go.”

Witnessing this encounter wrenched my heart to think that Alpa loved and valued her daughter’s life so much she’d endure the gaping hole in her heart as her sorrow bled deep within her at having to part with her.

Faatina nuzzled her cheek to her mom’s… I thanked God for preserving that one loving memory she’d shared with her mommy as a newborn infant. Realizing that the act of handing her back meant a departure, Alpa clung to her child struggling within herself to fulfill the act. Salima came alongside her sister, enfolding mother and child in her arms.

Through all of this… even this, Amaad was cold and expressionless. “May God have mercy on your soul,” I uttered to keep myself from losing control.

I stood and said to Alpa (it’s forbidden to touch a woman other than your spouse), “Whenever you can: anytime day or night, come see her. You’re always welcome in our home.”

“Take care of my baby, please?” Alpa implored through Salima, “Please take care of my baby!”

“Always.” I promised.

Reluctantly and with sobbing tears, Alpa slowly handed me her daughter. She clung to Faatina’s hand wanting to linger but for a moment longer, then let Faatina’s hand slowly slip from hers.

I have never hated anyone in my life, but if what I was feeling at that moment when I looked at Amaad was hate, I shuddered to think what it must be like to go through life feeling like this.

When the meal was finished, the women folk sat us on the pillows to offer their prayers and salaams, Faatina wouldn’t stay seated on the pillow. She kept crawling off to come to me. After three attempts to keep her seated, Faatina finally made it to my lap and I said to Me Ma, “I think God will understand.”

I sat Indian style with my toddler bride in my lap while Imam prayed. The women offered their salaams and I returned them. After that, we readied to leave. Mom, Priya and Leeya had left in order to be home waiting for our arrival.

Amaad rose to perform the custom of handing over the bride and when he reached for his daughter’s hand I warned him, “Touch her and you die!”

He got a look of shock on his face as he pulled his hand back. I was right: that fucker understood English very well!

I turned and carried my tiny wife in my arms to the car. I set her gently on the seat, climbed in next to her and shut the door. The driver started the limo, pulled away from the curb and we left for home.

This was the third time I’d made this trip home with a child bride, but there wasn’t any of the joy associated with knowing that this time, the young girl next to me accepted the events of this day in her life with child-like, innocent ignorance.

Halfway through the ride home, Faatina started playing with the silver buttons on my jacket. I’d tickle her lightly first on one side then the other. When she’d react by flinching sideways to the right, I’d tickle her left. She bounced back and forth from side to side giggling. She finally gave up and flung herself backwards. Her sudden movement took me by surprise and I had to react quickly to keep her from falling backwards off of my lap.

We arrived home about five minutes later. We pulled into the drive and Mom, Priya and Leeya were standing in the open door. I scooped up the captivating one in my arms and walked to the door. Stepping through, Mom kissed her cheek followed by Priya and I leaned her down for Leeya to kiss her cheek. Once inside, they all said, “Welcome home, Faatina!”

Taking her to the living room, I sat with Faatina on my lap and removed her sandals. Once free of the shoes, she wiggled her toes and slid from my lap with a giggle.

We sat in silence for a few moments watching this child crawl around happily as she sought out something of interest. I sat in the chair, resting my chin on my palm and watched her. It amazed me that she was such a happy child. She rarely ever cried: only when she was wet, hungry or tired.

The tiny newlywed made a beeline for the living room door and I said to Priya, “Hurry, get her.”

She stood, stopped and said, “She’s your wife, you get her.”

I smirked and replied sarcastically, “Cute, Priya, real cute.”

Faatina had already quickly mastered crawling pretty well and was moving at a good clip towards the kitchen while Priya and I exchanged comments. Joking I quipped to the motoring bride, “That’s right woman - into the kitchen!”

She stopped, sat on her butt, turned and headed past me back to the living room: the insolent little imp didn’t even look at me! “Damn!” I said out loud to myself, “Doesn’t any of the women in this house listen?”

“I heard that!” Mom chided.

When the little urchin reappeared in the living room, Mom cooed to her, “That’s right, Sweetie, you tell him who wears the nappies in this family!”

That brought chuckles from everyone. Touché Mom.

I went to the toy box and pulled out some of her things, spreading them on the floor. Interested, she moved to one that caught her attention. I sat again in the chair and Leeya got down on the floor to play with her.

Mom sighed as we watched the two girls play and said, “In all my forty-three years, I’d never have believed that I’d see my son’s wife sitting on the floor in a diaper playing with toys on her wedding day.”

I rose and said, “I’m going to call the hospital, maybe Dr. Gupta’s in.”

“Good idea,” Priya replied.

I went to the study and looked up the number to the hospital pediatrics. I spoke to the pediatric nurse on duty and she said, “He’s out of town until Friday. Can anyone else help you?”

“No,” I said with a sigh, “I’ll call him on Friday, thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied, “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye” I returned. Click.

I returned and sat back in the chair. Mom saw my disappointment and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Shaking my head I replied, “He’s out of town until Friday.”

“Oh well,” she replied, “it looks like you’ll just have to call him on Friday then.”

“Looks like it,” I said with disappointment.

We heard the door open and Dad entered a few moments later. He sat in between Mom and Priya and put his arm around both and said, “This has been a day I’ll never forget. I’m glad it’s over!”

Remembering earlier, Priya asked openly, “Remember when Faatina reached out for you during the ceremony at the exact moment Imam asked if she knew you? God that was eerie!”

Agreeing I replied, “I had the same feeling. It was as if someone had coached her.”

“Coincidence,” Dan said, “just a fluky coincidence.”

It was now a little past five and Priya asked, “Anyone for tea?”

Giving her a one-armed squeeze and a kiss on the forehead Dad replied, “Sounds good, Sweetie, let’s go, I’ll help.”

Mom quipped, “Damn, I guess you have to be young, dark and beautiful for him to help!”

Teasing Mom, Priya retorted as she giggled and batted her eyelashes, “How do you take your sugar, Father: one lump or two?”

“Definitely two, my dear,” Dad replied like W. C. Fields.

Pushing Dad’s butt as he rose, Mom said, “Get outta here you two. Go make us some tea!”

I stood and said, “Well, I’m going upstairs to change.”

“Go ahead,” Mom replied, “I’ll watch the kids.”

I went upstairs and went to the bathroom, washed my face, changed into a pair of shorts and a tee shirt and went back downstairs. I’d no sooner gotten downstairs when I heard the doorbell. I went and opened the door and Adib and Salima stepped inside.

We exchanged salaams and I led them to the dining room for tea. Passing the living room, they looked in on the two girls playing and chuckled.

As Priya served tea, Salima told us that Alpa was a total wreck when we left and it took an hour to calm her down enough to even stand. She and Adib revealed that they never really knew Amaad before these events with Faatina took place. Whenever there was a family gathering, they either wouldn’t show up or he was distant and didn’t talk much except to complain about the lax attitude others had about the young boys and girls playing together. He always felt they should be separated.

“But they’re only children, can’t he see that?” Mom asked.

Dad angrily inserted, “Yeah, the son of a bitch doesn’t want them playing together but he’ll marry off his three year-old daughter. No offense, Adib, but this is a twisted sick religion to think that’s rational.”

“Islam is a faith of peace,” Salima replied. “Those who practice it with a good heart know that. I don’t know how some of these extremists think or twist the teachings of Allah to support their beliefs. In countries like Iran, a girl would be beaten just for talking to a boy; it just doesn’t make any sense.”

Pointing to the other room, Dad said, “Even Leeya for Christ sakes. I mean somehow it all worked out and she’s as normal as the day is long but even that’s hard for me to grasp. A five year-old girl who’s married, with an active sex life and is as happy as a lark. I still can’t figure that one out.”

“Be quiet, John,” Mom said, “Leeya might hear you.”

“I’m sorry, Joan,” He said as he lowered his voice, “It just boggles the mind.”

This sometimes-heated conversation went back and forth for another hour or so. It was now close to seven and Adib politely said, “John, we will always be lifelong friends. Some of Islam’s ideas are interpreted in ways that neither of us can understand. But all good men, regardless of religion hold the same things dear and near to their hearts. We have to go and say evening prayers, but I thank you and Sean for again bringing life and a chance at happiness for another of our family’s children. We all suffer the effects of extremist Islamic thought. You have 911 and we have our children suffer. Inside, we both weep.”

As we walked my in-laws to the door, Dad wrapped his arm around Adib and said, “You’re right, Adib, we’re bound in friendship and when the chocolate princess here has a baby, we’ll be bound in blood.”

“That,” Adib exclaimed, “will be a day of great rejoicing indeed!”

Everyone’s eyes turned to a blushing, smiling Priya. We ended our evening with cordial familial goodbyes and salaams. After Adib and Salima left, we looked in the living room and it looked like a cyclone had passed through.

We looked at each other, sighed then laughed as we went in to clean up the carnage. After a half hour of cleaning while keeping Faatina from grabbing something else, we were finished and went upstairs for prayers.

We finished evening prayers and Priya touched my arm saying, “Wait, I’ll be right back.”

She and Leeya left. She returned a few minutes later with couple of diapers and the wipes. Handing them to me she said with a smirk, “Here, your bride’s trousseau.”

“Where’s her PJ’s?” I asked.

“It’s warm,” she replied, “So let her sleep in her nappy. If it gets cool, just cover up with a sheet.”

“Okay,” I answered, “Whatever you say, Mommy.”

“Oh shut up.” Priya said. After kissing me goodnight she turned and left, closing the door behind her.

I turned to find the little bride and… no bride. I walked around the bed, nothing. I looked behind the love seat, still no child. I heard a giggle and turned to the bathroom. Turning the corner of the sitting room, I saw the newlywed up on her knees splashing in the toilet.

Jokingly I said to myself, “At least she’s washed up before bed.”

I grabbed her up, unbuttoned and removed her now wet dress. I sat her on my bent knee against the sink and began to wash her hands and arms. Having done that, I carried her to the bed and flopped her down on her back with a bounce.

I peeled one tab on her diaper and checked: she was wet. I went to get a dry diaper and she started to roll on the bed. I quickly grabbed the diaper and stopped her just as she was about to roll off. I grabbed her ankles and with a twist, flipped her over onto her back.

I trapped her ankles in one hand, undid her wet one and quickly replaced it with a dry one. Now that she was ready for bed, I had to undress. I stood quickly and flipped off my shorts and tee shirt, leaving me in my boxers. I pulled back the duvet, separated it from the sheet and crawled into bed, pulling the captivating one next to me.

Faatina didn’t really feel like sleeping and began squirming, trying to get up. I turned out the light and held her tight against me. She struggled for a minute then relaxed under my arm.

I turned her on her side and within a matter of minutes she was asleep. I lay there next to her with my hand on her bare chest. She was so small my hand went completely around the front of her chest. I could feel her heart beating as she slept and it was probably twice as fast as mine.

I reached up, turned on the light and just watched her as she slept. She had adjusted herself into a fetal position with her nappy-covered butt up against my stomach. Lying on her left side, her left arm was folded and her left hand was tucked with her right up under her chin with her knees bend and together.

Faatina has the same honey colored complexion as Leeya but with shoulder length black hair and bangs across her brow. She’s about two feet tall and weighs about twenty-five or thirty pounds. She has heart-melting medium dark brown eyes that are expressive, sparkle with innocence and an illuminating smile that she gives as easily as breathing.

With a smile, I reached up and turned off the light, pulled the sheet up, tucked it under her chin and closed my eyes to go to sleep. I slid my right hand down her tiny leg and cupped her right foot in my hand. Her foot was so small her entire foot: ankle and all was hidden when I closed my hand. She twitched her toes in my palm as she slept in response to my touch but her breathing didn’t falter. That’s the last I remember as I too fell off to sleep.

I woke with a startling fright about three am and sat up in fear, staring into space. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt as it throbbed in my chest. I was panting laboriously and disoriented until I was fully awake. I knew I was having a nightmare but couldn’t remember the dream. All I could remember was having a horrible vision but the image eluded me.

Trying to collect myself, I shook my head, turned on the light and looked at Faatina sleeping soundly next to me. I rose, went to the bathroom, splashed my face and had a drink of water. I sat the water bottle on the nightstand and again looked at the sleeping angel in my bed.

Faatina had rolled onto her stomach with her hands wrapped around her head and her legs open about halfway. There was a little less than a foot of bed between her and the edge of the bed on her right so I slid my hands gently under her and pulled her to the center of the bed. I refolded her hands around her head and closed her legs. Confident she wouldn’t now roll off the bed, I climbed in next to her.

Lying on my back trying to remember the dream, Faatina started whimpering in her sleep and stirred. I turned to my side and lightly rubbed her back and she soon settled back into slumber. I pulled the sheet back up, covering her to just below her shoulders and turned off the light.

I had this gnawing feeling of ominous foreboding as I struggled to go back to sleep but managed to do so about four-thirty.