Back in Lahore, I returned and pondered recent events. Ultimately, the games began when we left Canada.
I tried to put myself in my father's shoes. One offer was pretty secure back in Canada but he wanted to test the waters in Pakistan. Why? Because there was many fish in the sea and he wanted to know how many would bite!
Squeeze me?
Like I said, he was playing the field, fishing in the sea, herding in the cattle-- to find the best one. Much to my dismay. He was appeasing his family and friends without thinking much of me. What happened to the lecture about not rushing into anything? Thinking about my decision while I was away? How could I do that when the suitors were 'suiting up' in front of me? Despite the mass confusion, I was convinced about one thing. No matter how hard my father tried to present every option to sway me, my heart and mind was in Canada. This charade only solidified my decision.
So it was notably funny when my father pulled the same stunt for the very last time. And this time it was with my mother's brother. You see, when I was that small eight year old girl back in 1979, the exchange of looks between my mother and her sister had nothing to do with my cousin who proclaimed his love for me. Instead, and I would find this out years later, my mother had a hidden desire for me to marry her brother's son. She told me this when we had visited Pakistan in 1987. She did not make a big deal about it at the time and I actually thought she was joking. But when she came back in 1988, she expressed her wish to me again. Although she knew I was friends with my ex-fiancee, she secretly wanted me to marry my cousin, knowing full well that I would never accept it.
While at my Khala's house, their brother came for a visit to see us. He is a large man with extra large hands, a stern expression and a soft voice. He scared me then and still scares me today. To conduct a conversation with him was like pulling teeth. In most cases, we would all be sitting in silence. Except when my father would open his mouth. And lo and behold, he did--asking his brother-in-law if he still considered his son to be married to me. I expected the fallout this time and shook my head. I stared up at the ceiling, praying to God that He would end this scene quickly. And He did.
After my father posed this question, my Uncle froze. He then stood up slowly and walked out of the room. My father's expression said it all. I smiled at the ceiling and followed after my Uncle. Promptly, my Khala left the room and intercepted my path to him. She held out her hand, motioning me to back away and nodded to me, encouragingly. I knew she was going to explain my situation back home, just in case he came back to reconsider the proposal.
As we said our last goodbyes to my mother's family, my Khala hugged me and whispered in my ear.
"You were small and did not know what your mother went through. Only I know. She protected you. Now that she is gone, you need to be strong in front of him. Stand up for yourself. She died of a broken heart. You have a right to be happy. Be happy for her."
I knew exactly who she meant when she said, "him".
I pulled away from her in time to see tears streaming down her face. I felt as if my mother was standing in front of me: guiding, supporting, encouraging. My Khala's pain seeped through me from our tight embrace and I vowed at that point, to heed her advice, no matter what.
"Go home and marry," she smiled. In that smile, her blessing was instantaneous.
Another sign that felt like I was moving in the right direction...
No comments:
Post a Comment