Y o u n g, f r e e a n d... d e s p e r a t e?
So... arranged marriage, huh? The whole idea is an oxymoron. Shouldn't marriage be about finding someone that you're so passionate about that you want to spend the rest of your life with them? How can that level of feeling be arranged? Don't get me wrong, I am not against the idea of arranged marriage per se, just the way my parents are going about it. Summer 2004, they tried to persuade me to go to Bangladesh to get married as part of a batch-processing kinda deal. I refused because I have strong objections against getting married to a person from Bangladesh. I'm not saying it is wrong in general, I am simply saying that it is wrong for me. I want to be able to communicate with my husband in English because that is the language I think in. I want a husband that can get a decent job and take care of me. How is a man from Bangladesh meant to pay a bill when he can't even read the bill?
After much disagreement, I was allowed to stay in England whilst my parent flew to Bangladesh with three of my sisters (aged 26, 20 and 14) at the time. As suspected, they got the eldest two married off and flew back a month later. These two sisters, Shopna and Forida, are currently staying with my parents and applying through Immigration for their husbands to be allowed into the country. Now, I'm 22 so I'm the unmarried one who's stuck in the middle. In a panic, my parents have started to look for a Potential Groom. Now, I want a guy who I can see as my equal. I want a man who is smart, has a good job and good prospects. My parents want a man who is Bengali and Muslim and... well, that pretty much fits the bill. They don't mind if he has no job, no money, and no ambitions as long as he can take me off their hands. Now, I may sound shallow in dismissing men from back home but if I am not going to marry for love, I am damn well going to marry for wealth and/or prospects. So far, that plan hasn't been going very well. If you're interested in the happenings of a young, free and desperate girl, here's the story so far...
Potential No. 1
Date: July 2004
Name: -
Occupation: In Communications for Orange
Everyone is preparing for the viewing. I have not seen this man's picture nor do I know anything about him yet here are my family, ready to receive them with the greatest of welcomes. I am told that he has a degree, works in communications for Orange and is an all-round great guy. My father was approached by a "Middleman" who tells him that the Potential's father passed away a few years ago so he is sorting out the arrangements. They set a date for the "viewing" during which my father will get to meet the potential groom and get a general feel of the situation. Everything is in place. I am upstairs, ignoring the whole situation. At this point in time, I am not ready for marriage. I am not too worried though; something tells me that this one isn't going to work out.
They knock on the door an hour late and two old men walk in. The first thought that goes through everyone's head is "Where's the groom?" The Middleman introduces my father to the Potential's father. Now, if you're scrolling up, pat yourself on the back for being observant. Yes, I did say that the Potential's father was dead... so what's he doing on our doorstep? My father confronts the Middleman about this (I hear that it wasn't very tactful but how can one be tactful in such a situation?) The Middleman becomes defensive and tells my father that he is mistaken. My father reacts by also becoming defensive and asks if he is being called a liar. I am in my room unaware of the happenings. My father asks where the groom is, to which the Middleman replies, "In Scotland." Scotland ? Well, what the hell was the point of all this then? Ok, we can get past this.
But to rub salt in the wound, they ask to see me. Yes, they haven't come up with the goods yet they want to see me. Now, an Asian girl isn't a trophy to be paraded around in front of any Tom, Dick and Harry who says he has a groom up his sleeve so this makes my father even angrier. Apparently, a fairly heated conversation ensued after which the Potential's party left in quite a hurry. Everyone hums and ha's and quietly disparages my father for losing his cool but I am glad that he did. How dare they come into our house and request to see me when we haven't even seen a picture of the groom? I'm happy my dad booted them out of the house. Little did I know, Mysterious Mr. Orange with a degree and a fancy job in communications was probably much better than what was to follow...
Potential No. 2
Date: January 2005
Name: Shahin
Occupation: Banker/Sales Assistant
I am approached by my eldest sister, Reena, with regards to a young man called Shahin who is related to her husband in some long-winded and complicated way which we won't go into. I am told that he is a banker, which is a good start but I immediately balk when she tells me that he is part of a fourteen strong family; two parents and twelve children. I ask her, "What kind of people have twelve children?" My ten-year-old nephew interjects with, "It's cheaper by the dozen," which I find only faintly amusing. I turn back to Reena who cannot see why I think it's so extraordinary that a couple should choose/allow themselves to have twelve children. I try to argue my point and ask her, "How can you possibly give twelve children the time, effort, attention and resources they need in order to grow into well-balanced, well-developed individuals?" She thinks I'm being silly. She points out that we, ourselves, are a part of a ten-strong family (two parents and eight children). I think she's missing the fact that four extra children make a big difference. I refuse point-blank, she tells me not to be silly.
Two weeks later, Reena moves into her new house and makes a passing comment about how they went to MFI to choose a kitchen and Shahin showed them several different designs on the computer. "Shahin?" I ask. "As in the Shahin you wanted for me?"
She misses a beat and hesitantly replies, "Uh...yes."
"I thought he works in a bank?" I ask.
"Uh, he did, he used to," she replies, falteringly.
"He used to be a banker but now he works in MFI?"
"Yeah, he, uh, um, went to Bangladesh to drop his parents off and lost his job because he couldn't take that much time off." She is the world's worst liar.
"Well, as a banker, did he not have enough common sense to figure out how much time he could take off without losing his job?"
Reena is evasive. I am exasperated. I can't believe that I can't even trust my own sister to be honest with me. If I'm going to marry this guy, do they really think that I won't discover that he is, in fact, a Sales Assistant and not a Banker? (If you think I'm being shallow, recall me saying "If I am not going to marry for love, I am damn well going to marry for wealth and/or prospects").
Another week later, Shahin comes up again in conversation. Reena comments that he is a homeowner, which I am sceptical about. "How can he afford a mortgage if he's lost his job?"
"He's still working, you know," she replies.
"What bank did he used to work at?"
"I don't really know. But yeah, he's got a three bedroom house."
"Uh-huh. And I bet you don't know where it is either. I bet it's all a great big lie."
"I've known his family ever since I got married, that's twelve years! It's not a lie."
"Oh, you've known him for twelve years yet you don't know the name of the bank he supposedly worked at?"
The whole escapade finishes with me completely pissed off that I was told a pack of lies in order to persuade me to say yes and the rest of the family pissed off that I blankly refused to even see a picture of the guy. Mother-in-laws are bad enough but to have twelve other in-laws to deal with? Sorry, but no can do.
Potential No. 3
Date: 3 February 2005
Name: -
Occupation: Solicitor
I am lying on the living room floor. I wrap my oversized GAP top around me and push my grease-infested hair away from my eyes. I've been out-of-action for three days due to the flu super bug that's been going round. I feel dirty, sweaty and generally disgusting. Shafia, my youngest sister, who has been pretending to be ill in order to avoid school, looks at me conspiratorially.
"Do you wanna see something?" she asks.
"What?" I ask, groggily.
"Well, don't you dare tell anyone but there's this photo of this guy that Forida 's friend got for you," she says. Shopna, who is also ill, lifts her head a little and opens her eyes.
"Go on," I say to Shafia.
"It's downstairs. Do you want to see?" I nod. She runs downstairs and runs back up with the energy of someone who is far too sprightly to be ill. "Are you ready for this? He's gonna give you nightmares," she says, as she clutches the picture.
"Show me," I say, reaching for the photo. I take it and turn it over. "Oh, my God, are you being serious?" I ask. Shafia bursts out laughing as does Shopna. He looks about 35 years old (and the picture looks about 5 years old so in actual fact, he could be hitting 40). He has this trussed up collar and my 66 year old father has about as much hair on his head as this guy does. "Are they being serious?" I ask again.
Shafia laughs and says, "Well, actually, even Mum said that the guy has no hair and looks too old so I think you're pretty much safe with this one." Shafia tells me that he is a Solicitor but after the whole Shahin incident, I'm not exactly inclined to blindly believe everything I am told about a Potential. We make really mean gagging sounds and tell Shafia to put the photo back.
The next day my mother pulls out the photo and shows it to me. She presents him to me seriously (even though she, herself, thought he was too old) on the off-chance that I may actually take a fancy to him. She tells me he is a solicitor, which I dismiss by saying, "A solicitor with some hair would be better". I think my mother sees that I'm not taking it seriously so she breaks the facade and says, "Well, at least he has nice teeth." She puts away the photo and luckily, that is the last I hear of it. I ask Shopna, "Am I expecting too much by thinking that I should be attracted to my future husband? Is a good job and good proespects enough?" She says no, there definitely should be an attraction there. I nod but then shake my head. A guy who has a good job and is remotely attractive. It really is a lost cause.
Potential No. 4
Date: 16 February 2005
Name: -
Occupation: Student from Bangladesh
Reena calls me at work. Her husband (who I should rename "Cupid") is coming back from a visit to Bangladesh the next day and apparently, he met this guy whose brother is in England and he's perfect.
"What? He's Bangladeshi?" I ask Reena.
"No, he's here," she replies.
"Oh, right," I say, relieved because the last thing I want is a guy who can't speak, read or write English and whom I need to take care of.
"He's 25."
"What does she do?" I ask.
"He's a student."
"A student? What's he doing? A Masters or something?"
"Oh no, he read at Dhaka University and now he's over here."
"Dhaka University ?" I ask. "So he is a Freshie?"
"No, he can speak English."
"Afa, you just told me he's from here."
"He is here."
"But I'm gonna have to go through all that immigration application bullshit?"
"Well, yes, but..." she goes on.
I am exasperated. I don't want to be rude and say no straight off and tell them to butt out because truth be told, I have to get married sooner or later and leaving it up to my parents is probably worse than dealing with the multitude of Potentials bought to me by Reena and her husband. I am noncommittal and change the subject. She says, "We'll wait until he gets back tomorrow and then we'll see what happens."
They visit us a few days later and mention the Student in passing. Luckily, Jusna is on my side and says that a student is not right for me. Damn right! I mean, the guy has no money, no job, no permanent home and no prospects. But something tells me I have not heard the end of this one.
Potential No. 5
Date: February 2005
Name: Rahul Rizwan-Hussain
Occupation: TV Presenter/Lecturer in Law
Ok, mid-February, I'm getting desperate. I have a conversation with my best friend, Rabika, during which we discuss marriage. Despite all my teenage vows about how I would never want to get married, I feel ready for it now. In many ways, I want to get it over and done with because it feels like my life is on hold. I enjoy my current job but feel like it's time to move on BUT what kind of job do I look for? Do I need to be a high-flying career woman because my husband will be a non-English speaking manual worker from Bangladesh? Or can I find another laid-back job similar to my current one because my husband will me a capable man who can take care of me?
In comes Rahul Rizwan-Hussain. He is a television presenter for an Asian channel called ATN and we were acquainted through a long and convoluted story involving an opportunity for me to become a presenter (which I kindly declined... not my cup of tea). Basically, what you need to know is that he had seen my picture and had my phone number. We had a conversation during which he told me many things about himself; all of which were great and wonderful and highly doubtful. These included the "fact" that he was only moonlighting as a TV presenter and he was actually a Senior Lecturer in Law which he took up after practising law as a qualified Barrister for approximately five years. Also, that his family own Asian clothing chain "Rupali" and the fact that he drives an A-Class Mercedes. Now, I'm thinking the exact same thing that you would be thinking. "He's a TV Presenter, he had my details and is using them to his advantage, how many girls has/is he doing this with?" Before I had a chance to ask him, he promptly disarmed me by saying, "I know what you're thinking.... I'm a TV presenter, I had your details which..." Etc etc etc. He tells me he is over the whole "Woah, that girl is buff" stage and is looking to settle down etc etc etc.
So basically, he's an all-round Mr. Smooth which is never really a good thing. I declined his offer for coffee but I didn't have the substance of character to continue holding back his offensive. I meet him for coffee on 22nd February during which we have an easy conversation. He's a nice guy but there's no chemistry. I'm in a difficult position. My head is saying, "He's a nice guy, has a good job (the lecturer in law stuff checked out), seems decent enough, keep talking to him, he's serious about marriage, see where it leads and if it comes to crunch time and you feel sure, his family can approach mum and dad." My heart is saying, "Sorry, didn't feel a spark." Now, I have always been an advocate of "Follow your heart" and now that I'm in a position to follow that advice, I'm hesitant to. I do not want to lead him on whilst hoping that my parents find me someone better but I do not want to say no to him and end up marrying a loser. On top of all of that, maybe I'm creating a dilemma over nothing and he really isn't seriously interested. I'm going to have to just wait and see.
Update: March 2005
Being the distrustful young hag that I am, I decide to do some research on Mr. Rahul Rizwan-Hussain. It turns out that while he is indeed a lecturer in law, he is not actually a qualified barrister like he so proudly proclaimed during our second telephone conversation. There are two qualities I cannot bear in a man; dishonesty and tardiness and I operate a strict one-strike-and-you're-out policy on the former. On the 4th of March, I text him "So tell me, does telling lies really not grate on your conscience? I know men hold honesty in low regard but your lies were so well-executed, it's almost art" to which I recieve two missed calls and a text message saying, "Tell me the lies. Justify it." I'm not interested in justifying myself to him in any shape or form so it's case closed... Councillor.
20 March 2005
I sit down. It is 2pm and we are at the wedding of my elder brother-on-law's niece. My younger brother-in-law says to me, "That's Shahin by the way." (Shahin is Potential No. 2).
My head snaps up. "He's here?" I ask.
"Yes."
"Oh, God, no."
"Yeah, he's right there with that child in his arms." I glance in the direction of his nod.
"Where?" I ask.
"There. Right there. With the long hair."
I spot him. There are three conclusions I can draw:
1. He looks like a cross between Beck and Adrien Brody which isn't necessarily a bad thing but...
2. He's so skinny, he makes me look fat.
3. He looks like I could beat him up. With one hand. Blindfolded. Which is saying something since I'm 5'1" and weight 98lbs.
I immediately label him "The Vampire" because he looks like he died, was allowed to rest for a thousand years and then resurrected, put into a suit and sent to the wedding. He isn't bad looking, he's just really weedy like I'd have to spend my life taking care of him.
So anyway, I must have been pointed out to him because all throughout the wedding, he continuously stares at me. Every time I look at him, he's looking at me. Now one could say that it was simply due to coincidence and that he somehow, by chance, happened to look at me at the same exact moments I looked at him (and consequently thought that I was perving on him all throughout the day) but no cookie, I can feel his eyes on me. Members of his party come to greet my eldest sister during which he also strolls over. I shrink back in my chair, praying that my sister will refrain from playing Cupid because I know my entire family (and the surrounding 100 people or so) are looking in our direction.
I pinch Shafia and hiss, "Talk to me like we're having the deepest conversation we've ever had." Luckily, she doesn't hesitate and we appear to be so enraptured in each other's words that not even Reena interrupts us. Shahin walks away and I droop with relief but... the worst is yet to come.
The wedding is almost over. I comment on how sad it is to see the Bride's father cry when suddenly Shafia turns around sharply. A young boy who was with Shahin throughout the day (perhaps his youngest brother) hands her a folded napkin. Shafia opens it to find a name and number. My immediate reaction is that the little boy gave his number to Shafia (even though he looks about twelve and Shafia is fifteen). I start my "Shafia you stupid idiot, what were you doing? Were you giving him the eye? What are you thinking? Dad is one metre away and saw this whole escapade" speech but then Shopna interrupts.
"It was meant for you" she says to me.
"What?" I stop as quickly as I started.
"Yeah, the little boy was trying to give it to you." I shake my head, confused but then notice the name on the napkin. "Shah," it says.
"He must have given it to his little brother to give to you but you weren't paying attention so he handed it to Shafia instead," says Jusna who also watched this drama unfold. She takes the napkin from Shafia's hand and goes off to tell the world about how disgraceful it all is.
Hmm, I think. He's just gone and ruined what little chance he had. See, there was something official going on which made it all respectable. The minute Shahin handed that napkin to his little brother, he crossed the line from respectable to "disgraceful." I was going to say, "It's funny how thin that line can be" but you know what's funnier? How thick it can be. A relationship you form on your own will always be disgraceful and will never cross the line to "respectable" territory. Well, not in my family's books anyway.
I laugh off the whole event but since my sister and brother-in-law had their hearts set on Shahin from the very beginning, I'm sure his approval of me will only serve to fuel the fire.
21 March 2005
I am sitting on my bed in a flurry of tears. I feel like shit. I've just been told in not so many words that I'm not good enough to get a good proposal.
...
"You need to have a good family background.
You need pray five times a day.
You need to know how to cook and clean.
You need to know how to speak to elders.
You need to know how to speak to young children.
Give us the whole package and we'll give you the whole package."
This is from my sister, Jusna, who comes from the same family I do and doesn't pray fives a day either.
My sister, Reena, tells me that she and her husband are going to see another guy (another illegal immigrant) on Sunday for me. I express my disapproval to which she responds by telling that I'm "too picky."
"How can you say I'm being too picky when all I've asked for is that he's not an illegal immigrant?" I ask. "I haven't asked for a guy with a degree. I haven't asked for an educated guy or even a rich guy. I just want someone I can communicate with. How is that being 'too picky'!?"
Reena and Jusna tag team on me and go on about how our bad family name is preventing us from getting good proposals; how there are no decent men in the East End; that those men who are decent always choose to marry back home; that if I get married here, I will have to put up with in-laws etc etc etc.
They simply refuse to listen to my point. I become increasingly angry and with anger I claim, "Fine. I'll marry Shahin, ok? There. I've stopped being picky. I'll marry Shahin." They see that I'm angry and try to calm me by telling me that we still have time. "Yeah right. How can you say we have time when everyone's pressuring me?" I yell.
"Who's pressuring you? No one is pressuring you," says Reena.
"Oh, right. Coz Dad doesn't go on about how I should have gone to Bangladesh and got married? ...how I've caused so much hassle for him by refusing to do so?" Reena says nothing.
They are still going to see the guy this Sunday. I start considering Shahin seriously. I weight up his pros and cons and feel increasingly desperate.
22 March 2005
I have asked Reena to arrange an official viewing with Shahin's family.
11 April 2005
Shahin, the story so far
So
you think that as soon as I said, "Arrange a formal viewing," they would jump
for joy and immediately start the proceedings, right? Wrong. See, one thing to
know about my family is that they talk a lot but when it comes to crunch time,
no one acts. So to my complete surprise, when I told them I was ready to
officially meet Shahin, they umm-ed and ahh-ed a lot and finally came up with, "Well, we don't want to arrange a formal meeting and then have you say no. We're
very close to their family and that could create tension."
"Well, what do you expect me to do? Say yes without even meeting him?" I ask.
"No,
but we don't want you to say no afterwards."
"But
how can I be sure until I have met him?"
"You
could always head down to MFI and have a little chat with him," suggests Reena
only half-joking.
I
can't believe what's happening. They want me to have an arranged marriage but
they want me to arrange it myself? How the hell is that any better than
me going out there and finding myself any other guy on the street?
Anyway, to cut a very long story short, I decided to be proactive (it doesn't run in the family but I have no problem going against the grain) and contacted Shahin. Bearing in mind that it's "disgraceful" (there's that word again) for a girl to approach a guy, I do so tentatively. But then again, I'm not doing anything wrong. I was told to meet him unofficially. We meet at Liverpool Street on April Fool's Day (I know). We have a comfortable chat and a nice meal. He's a very sweet guy (too sweet?) and I know he's the kind of guy that would put me first. He's big on family (i.e. living with the in-laws forever) and wants a girl who is "loving, caring" and "who can love his family half as much as he does." Now, anyone who knows me will tell you that "loving" and "caring" are not exactly the best words to describe me. "Shrew" being far more appropriate. I do voice some of these concerns to him but he's convinced he can "change" me.
We have a few phone conversations after which I tell Reena that I did meet him and yes, I like him (the word "like" being relative to all the other Potentials). She gets all big-eyed and pronounces how she "Loves the idea of one my sisters falling in love and getting married." Hold the phone, what just happened there? They're passing me off to a guy they want and she's making it out like it's MY thing? I'm falling in love with him?? I tell her not be stupid after which she says, "Ok, wait and see what his parents say." I thought the whole point of this was that I decide and you approach their family? I think but do not say. I simply say ok, same way I've been doing all my life.
So I have a second unofficial meeting with Shahin... hesitantly. I don't want to turn this into a thing where we're "dating." There's a line between an arranged marriage and a "love" marriage and I'm sticking firmly on the arranged marriage side. Don't get me wrong, I am not doing this to prove a point. I do like him. Do I feel fireworks when I'm near him? Of course I don't but like I have said on many previous occasions, arranged marriage is not about fireworks, it's about finding someone you can build a life with and Shahin seems like that kind of guy. I have faith in Allah and if it's meant to be, it'll be.
All together now, Que sera sera...
June 2005
Shahin. Endgame.
The Shahin stuff fell through. And
I am really way too bored with it to go into it so here's the synopsis:
- I was convincing myself to marry Shahin to make my family, in particular my father, happy because I knew they were desperate to get me married off.
- The only ones actually “happy” with the situation were Reena and her husband.
- My dad initially refused to meet Shahin saying that he didn't have an office job and his family were "rich people" who wouldn't mix well with ours. Despite his reservations, Reena and Cupid convinced my Dad to agree to a meeting.
- Shahin tells his sisters that he met me despite me making him promise not to. It gets out and reaches some of the elders that know both families. Luckiy, it doesn't reach my dad but I am completely pissed off about this. I have a go at Reena (who also helped spread the news) and tell her that if this is the way our marriage is going to be (i.e. “he said”, “she said” with everyone getting involved in everything) I would rather not marry him.
- My sisters overhear my dad saying that he really doesn't like the prospect of marrying me off to Shahin. This is the last straw. Surely if I am to have an arranged marriage, it's mainly to make my dad happy and if he's not happy with Shahin, why the hell am I agreeing to it?
- My dad cancels the meeting.
- I say to Reena “Dad's not happy and neither am I” and the whole thing is cancelled.
- I disentangle myself form Shahin by telling him that my Dad is not happy. He asks “Why?” I am not quite man enough to say, “Well, I don't really like you either” so I just make up stupid excuses and get out with a big sigh of relief.
What have I learnt from this
fiasco?
1.
I am an intelligent girl who can be INCREDIBLY STUPID.
2.
I shouldn't let my elder sister and brother-in-law
make decisions on behalf of me or my Dad.
Oh, I forgot to mention. I turned 23 on May 17 so I'm a year older and back to Square 1. Everything has gone quiet which is both a source of relief and concern for me. Where are all the nice Bengali men in the world? Well... there is this one guy (Potential 7) but that's another can of worms...
*Puts head in hands and droops*
Potential No. 6
Date: Early June 2005
Name: -
Occupation: Accountant
This minor incident happened early June. Forida tells me the story about how a woman came round to our house, saw Forida and asked my mother if they were looking for a groom for Forida. My mum says “Yes, we are looking for a groom.” She doesn't deem it necessary to specify that they are NOT looking for a groom for Forida but for a different daughter entirely. The next day, the woman comes round with another woman in tow armed with a pile of photographs. They ask to see Forida at which point my mother tells them that Forida is actually married but another one is available which of course they are fine with since to most elders I know, marriage is a factory-style process. (Faulty? Next in line. Out of stock? Next in line.)
They ask to see me but my mother tells that I am not home because she knows I wouldn't take too kindly to being paraded in front of strangers like a prize cow at a trade-show. They ask to see a photograph at which point a mad scramble to find a half-decent photo of me ensues. I would have loved to have said “Forget it, they're not seeing a photo of me when they haven't shown me one of the guy” but desperate times call for desperate measures. We manage to find two decent pictures and the woman likes what she sees (Thank you mum for the fair skin since that seems to be all that matters to the elders). She then hands my mother a pile of photographs of her son. Now, Forida told me that the woman is very slim and fair (which is verified later on when I watch her leave the house) so we all naturally assume that her son inherited a few of her traits. Not so. He is about a stone and half too heavy, he has a part of his eyebrow shaved like a 19 year old chav and would pretty much look like the Incredible Hulk next to me. My sisters immediately say No Way! My mother can't tell them no of course because she told them I wasn't home. They take my mum's number and tell her that they will call her first thing tomorrow. Under normal circumstances, their eagerness would be an ego-boost but in this case I know it is more a testament to how bad their son is rather than how great I am. I assume my mother said no to them after seeing our reaction. Onwards and Upwards.
Potential No. 7
Date: 17 June 2005
Name: Bashir Khan
Occupation: Accountant (What the hell is it with all these Accountants!?)
Bashir Khan. There isn't much to say about Bashir Khan. Only there is. There is so much to say about Bashir Khan. Let me take a minute.
Ok, I'm back.
Bashir isn't so much a Potential as a permanent thorn in my side. One I can't help but twist once in a while. Or he's like chocolate ice-cream that's melting over the sides of the cone; annoying but delicious all the same.
Bashir Khan is my next-door neighbour. A guy I have known all my life. One I had arguments with as a kid and then pretty much ignored throughout my teens; one who has had very little bearing on my life whatsoever. That is, until early this year when I realised how handsome a man he had grown up to be. Dangerous thought? Indeed. Over the space of a few months, we have started talking and then e-mailing and then texting and phoning and then meeting up. He's hot and cold. Fast and slow. Yes and no. I don't know what I'm doing with him.
And while I'm discussing this, I may as well say that yes, I have started to feel like a bit of a whore. I mean, up until now there are two other guys (Potentials 2 and 5) that I have met up face to face with regards to marriage. I can't keep on doing this. God knows how many I'd get through before the deed actually gets done. So right now, I'm putting things on hold. It's stupid because I'm trying to find a guy that my parents will be happy with. It's a little late in life to find someone who I'll fall head over heels in love with so it is sort of like a business deal. ‘So if you're approaching this whole thing with a cool head, why the hell are you getting involved with your next-door neighbour?' I hear you ask. The answer? I'm drawn to him.
The only other answer I can give you is: I don't know what I'm doing.
Potential No. 8
Date: July 2005
Name: Mizanoor Rahman
Occupation: Freelance Architect (*cynical snigger*)
This was a brief encounter in mid-July. Jusna brings me a CV and two photos of a guy named "Mizanoor Rahman." He has a degree in Architecture from South Bank University. I am relatively impressed by this fact; the first British-born graduate flung my way. Yay! I glance at the photos. In the first one he actually looks fairly normal. He is tall, slim, kinda young looking. Things are looking positive. I look at the second picture and grimace. He is in an oversized suit, looks about fifteen and has a severe case of acne. Why would they give this picture out? Jusna jokes that she should have hidden the second picture from me. I put the second photo aside and continue looking through the CV.
His occupation? Freelance Architect. Sounds good? Uh-huh. Ok, let's look through his employment history. His present/current occupation says: "Gardener. I took this position because I thought it would help me gain more experience in my area but I had to leave after two weeks because I got a skin rash on my hands." Hold up. Skin rash on his hands? What the hell? I want to marry a man, not a goddamned princess. Despite the fact that putting something like this on a CV is totally unprofessional, I'm not willing to let the first viable option presented to me slip away so easily.
Ok, he graduated three years ago, let's look at the rest of his job stuff. The only problem is... there isn't any. Well, there IS but nothing actually REAL.
"I designed the outline of an Indian resturant as a Freelance Architect."
"I worked at this youth club as an Architect for a month" and other similar descriptions are scattered amongst his history. He has graduated three years ago and has never had a stable job and is indeed, unemployed as I write. God, at least Shahin had a job even if it was at MFI! I say no hesitantly and Jusna agrees. "He has no job nor purpose" she comments. A week later, Reena comments on him briefly but is of the same opinion. The matter is forgotten only... not quite (see next entry).
3 August 2005
Ok, so basically, after saying no to Mizanoor Rahman, I couldn't help but feel that a tiny part of me was being biased against him because of the torch I'm holding for Bashir. I tried to look at it as objectively as possible; if Bashir wasn't in the picture, would I have been more inclined towards Mizanoor? Maybe I would have considered him for a few seconds longer but the fact that he had been unemplyed (ok, ok, "self-employed") for three years did not do much for my faith in his ability to fulfil his husbandly duties (bread on table etc...) At the same time, I am increasingly worried about this situation. I said a British-born guy with a bit of sense was all I was looking for... so why is a British born graduate (albeit an unemployed one) not good enough? Perhaps because there is another British-born graduate on the horizon? One who DOES have a job; one that is smart and funny and good looking and... ok, ok, I'll stop now.
So where does this all leave me? Things are no more clear than they were a month ago. I'm still being a total and complete idiot.
Potential No. 9
Date: Mid-September 2005
Name: Faruk Miah
Occupation: In Business IT
There has never been anything magical or special about the number nine, has there? so I'm not really expecting much from Potential number nine. I mean, you get third time lucky, there were the seven Days of Creation, seven seas, seven sisters and even seven of nine (I know all the boys are smiling). Actually, while we're on the subject, *scrolls up to see who number seven was.... heart skips a beat*
*Reminds herself that there are also seven deadly sins and moves on*
So Faruk Miah. He actually sounds promising. I receive one photo and a CV-like document. He has all the right ingredients; he is 5'7", 26 years old and has a degree in "Business Information Technology and Comminucation" and he's decent looking to boot. My sister Shopna comments that he looks like a "Younger, skinnier version of Andy Garcia" and whilst I wouldn't go that far, he is the type of guy that I could probably put up with. So for the first time since this whole debacle began, I actually genuinely say, "Yes, let's have a deeper look" of my own free will. And so they do. And what happens? I hear nothing until one evening I hear my mother on the phone to Reena. "No, in that case, forget that family. If it was just the sole fact that they were stingy then that would have been acceptable but this? No, this is too much. We'll say no."
So they say no to Faruk Miah despite the fact that I said ok and no-one tells me why. A few days later, I ask Reena. She said that his family back home are not up to scratch. I ask what she means. She replies that they come from a line of peasants; people who used to walk through villages selling things from straw baskets. I comment that it's not his family in Bangladesh that I would be living with and that we're not exactly from a line of royalty either. She replies that they are simply too lowly to consider and that she has heard through others that his family here are not very hospitable or generous. So that as they say, is that. My first decent proposal is thrown out the window without a second thought.
4 October 2005
So after reading the previous entry, one could be forgiven for assuming that my little crush(?) on Bashir is over. Not so. We have still been seeing each other once in a while and I still feel the same way. I know he feels stronger about me also which is promising (or a source of despairing depending on how you choose to look at it). So with all this stuff going on with Bashir, how could I say "Yes, let's have a deeper look" to Potential No. 9? Well, the lesson you should have learnt about me by now is that I look after number one. I want Bashir but if I can't have him, I am not going to crawl up and wither away. I am not going to let a good, solid proposal pass in the hopes of him turning around and asking me to marry him. Life isn't a fairytale. And if I have to plan and map out marriage like the generations before us have done, so be it.
So after all that fight talk, where does it leave me? *Sighs and stops writing*
Potential No. 10
Date: December 2005
Name: Imran
Occupation: IT Analyst
This one was actually a really good proposal. He was decent looking, worked as an IT Anayst on Liverpool Street after a stint as a Systems Analyst at the Bank of England. He had a postgraduate degree in the field of Computing and seemed like a decent guy. BUT the possibility came through my sister and she didn't seem too keen on getting an ex-work colleague involved with a family member so that was fair enough. I didn't dwell on the loss of this one too much since at this point, I'm still making goo-goo eyes at Bashir.
Potential No. 11
Date: December 2005
Name: ?
Occupation: ?
Balding guy who's father had five wives. NEXT!
Potential No. 12
Date: 24 December 2005
Name: ?
Occupation: Youth Worker
I didn't actually have a very in-depth look at this one. He was dressed scruffy and was pulling headphones out from under his T-shirt. I'm thinking that it was the only picture the parents could muster without the guy actually knowing that they're looking for a wife for him. He's not terrible looking but my sister says he "looks gay". I ask what he does. She said "Youth work but don't worry, we're all having a laugh at this guy downstairs so it's not really serious" and goes off with the picture. A month later, I hear that my mum asked for a more up-to-date (i.e. decent) picture so it's not the last I've heard of him.
11 January 2006
The bitter taste of failure feels like a stone in my throat. I am not used to failing. It just does not happen. I passed my driving test second time but that first time was a kick in the teeth because I had never failed anything before that. But now I know how it feels. Why have I got this twisting sensation clawing at my throat and my heart and my gut? Because Bashir Khan, my thorn, is walking down the street and the fact that it's NOT GOING TO HAPPEN hits me hard.
Ok, enough of the preamble. Let me give you the facts.
- Bashir and I started to do the whole dating thing.
- We became really close, he said that I am the one for him, and whilst he never gave me concrete commitment, I figured that it would happen.
- My little sister, Shafia's behaviour is becoming out of control with regards to study, school, teachers, parents, attitude, boys, everything. My parents are becoming increasingly worried about the ever-diminishing "good family name." As a result, there is increased pressure on me to get married before the "good family name" is pulverised altogether.
- I have a text conversation with Bashir (why oh why didn't I just call him like a NORMAL human being?) where I told him that I want to get married this year.
- He doesn't exactly skip out, buy a diamond ring and get down on one knee. He gets freaked out, says that he didn't know I wanted to get married in 2006, that he thought it was just my parents putting pressure on me and that I could hold them off.
- I get angry and make a bitchy remark implying that he was just using me.
- He gets angry because of what I said, proclaims "Do what you like, I don't care" and proceeds to ignore me for the rest of the day.
- A few inconsequential texts are exchanged (i.e. "Just checking you're alright" with a fucking teddy bear, oops, I meant fluffy teddy bear, etc etc).
- I REALLY want him to say to me "Look, I got freaked out but I do really like you. I don't want to let this go so maybe we can figure something out." And if he doesn't want to say that, I want him to say "Look, I had a really nice time with you, I really like you but I'm simply not ready for marriage." Or I want him to say "Get lost, leave me alone." I just want him to say SOMETHING to end this. I want closure. I want a good bye. Not a goddamned text message saying that he hopes Allah blesses me and my family on this wondrous day whilst He waters all His Creation. Gee thanks, but can YOU actually talk to me? Ok, this is verging on blasphemy so I'm gonna have one last rant and then stop.
I know we didn't have that deep-level connection you call love, I know that most of our "relationship" was a calculation on my part (i.e. good guy, good job, good prospects, why not?) but I had started to really get on with him and I believed that it could happen. I've always thought if I fell over, I could just get up, dust myself off and move on but this time, I stalled. This time, it took a few false-starts, I still hoped things could work out. I see how easily he walked away from me and yeah, I gotta admit, I was wounded and I still am.
Failure is a stone I cannot spit out this time.
Failure is a stone I have to swallow.
26 January 2006
You know what they say. It ain't over til it's over :)
*click*