My last semester at McMaster University was finishing at the end of April. I was preparing for my final exams in English, which I had selected as my elective. My love for English was made evident to me by one man. And it wasn't my fiancee/husband.
Squeeze me?
The elective I decided to take was first year English and as it turned out, it was only offered off-campus as a night course. The course was taught from 6-9pm where our professor lectured from 6-8 and a tutor took over at 8pm. A lot of students opted to leave around that time but I found I needed that extra hour to grasp the concepts and ideas. I was doing OK in the course but not at the level I desired to be at. At our first class, Grant was introduced to us. He was a short, blond-haired individual who tied his hair back in a ponytail most of the time. From the first time we all met him, what struck me was his soft-spoken voice. He was calm and soothing and I felt an instant connection, without us speaking a word to each other.
As the year progressed on, I ended up booking time with him to go over my essays. Majority of the time it would occur at 9pm, after tutorials. He was going for his Masters in English and tutoring was part of the requirement to graduate. He would dissect my essay, piece by piece as the cleaning staff would tidy up around us in the high school where the course took place. One night, out of nowhere, as I was packing up my books right after his tutorial, he approached me.
"I heard one of your classmates talking about your engagement. I really don't mean to pry but she mentioned something about this being an arranged marriage?" he smiled softly.
I was caught off guard. I looked everywhere except at him. He sensed my discomfort immediately.
"I am so sorry. I did not mean to embarress you. Its just that I find this a very interesting topic and wanted to learn more. Would you mind going out for a coffee one night to discuss it?" We were near the front doors of the school and I could see my father waiting in the parking lot, squinting his eyes to see what was going on.
I pondered over his invitation and remembered all the hours he spent with me, helping polish up my essays. I knew I could not go late after class or else my father would be suspicious. He would immediately concoct some story that I was seeing someone on the side while being engaged.
"How about next class, after your session? We could just stay at the school and I will ask my father to pick me up an hour later like usual?"
He nodded and said he was looking forward to it. As I walked over to the car, a million things were going through my head. What did he want to ask me? Does he want to know my whole history or just what was going on now? Do I start with religion or cultural expectations? Where do I begin? I felt like I would have to compile an essay and break it down, chapter by chapter to explain why I was going through with an arranged marriage. When I got in the car, I got the third degree.
"Who is that white boy with the ponytail? Why was he talking to you? Why were you both smiling? What took you so long?" my father demanded. I rolled my eyes and threw my books in the back seat. "And don't throw your education around like that. Is that the way you treat your scholastic possessions, considering that I am paying for your courses?" My father hit the brakes every time he made a point and the people driving behind him were flashing their headlights.
"Dad, that is my tutor. Remember? I told you someone was helping me bump my B's to A's. Well that is the guy," I said with exasperation.
"You never told me that your tutor was a man!" My father was driving 30km in a 60km zone.
"Dad, speed up, will ya? Maybe I forgot to mention that but what's the problem? I am going to school with guys, I will be working with guys. Its a fact of life, you know!" I looked out the window, wishing that I was walking home in peace instead of being interrogated.
"Well, as long as he is helping with your grades, I guess that is ok. Just don't spend time alone with him. If anyone sees you, as an engaged woman, you will get a reputation. Do you understand?"
I guess asking my father if I could meet my tutor over coffee was out of the question. I did not see the harm in it but if my father knew, he would go beserk.
The next class, I was wondering if Grant forgot about our rendezvous. As I was packing my things, he walked over.
"Black?" he asked. My mouth hung open and I struggled to answer.Black?! What the hell was he referring to?
"Your coffee? Do you like it black or with milk or cream? I will pick them up and come back." I felt stupid and bit my lip. I told him that I was actually a tea drinker and that the caffeine would wire me all night. He laughed and offered to buy me a chocolate milk. Once he left, I stood in the doorway of the school and waited. The cleaning staff had come in and smiled at me. One of the cleaners looked like he was either from India or Pakistan. He saw me and asked me in Urdu, "You here late again with that boy? Your father doesn't say anything?" He shook his head and made a 'tsk tsk' noise with teeth. I was shocked. I turned to respond but nothing came out of my mouth. I looked at my watch. 9:15pm. I paced back and forth and practiced my speech about arranged marriages and why I was about to enter into one. I walked back into the classroom and took out my novel and began to read. He showed up 5 minutes later with his steaming coffee, and no lie, my milk! Even before he sat down, I began to blabber.
"You know, many people have arranged marriages. Its tradition in our society and it is still practiced today. I was not forced into it but my father had a hand in choosing my future..." I was stopped by his hand. He sat across from me and stirred his coffee slowly while looking at me intently.
"I already know about the traditions of the Islamic marriage, how prevalent it is in your society and the Pakistani cultural expectations. In fact, it is cultural folklore which deceives many into the notion that a woman has no say in the matter of her own matrimony. In Islam, the woman has a right to say no. When she is wrongly coerced into a relationship, they blame the religion instead of culture." He continued to stir his coffee and stare off into space.
I was utterly flabbergasted. This was not the way I envisioned our conversation going. I sipped my milk through the straw, accidently making slurping noises. I was perplexed.
"If you know everything about arranged marriages, why did you want to meet with me to discuss it further?" I furrowed my brow and gave my best attempt at a analytic look.
He smiled and asked for my notebook. I passed it over to him and he took out some of my essays. He was quiet while he flipped through the pages of one essay. I heard my stomach growl. His calm demeanor and quiet reflection made me nervous.
"You have improved greatly over the course of the year. I am really proud of your progress. You exhibited dedication and hard work all year with one goal in mind: to increase your knowledge and improve your skills. You just needed some guidance to get there. When I saw your first essay, you did it for the sake of doing an essay but I knew you had more potential. There was something missing and I realized half way through the year, it was passion and inner reflection. When you added these two ingredients, I saw the creativity spew out on these pages. Your talent was hidden. I just helped you bring it into the limelight." He passed me back my notebook.
I sat there, opposite to him, utterly dumbfounded. Did I miss something? Weren't we supposed to talk about my impending arranged marriage? Clearly, he knew the tradition and the process. So what was I doing here?
"Um...I...thanks? Thanks for the support and encouragement. I am glad that I have improved my overall marks. My dad would kiss you if he were here," I joked.
"Were you 'guided' towards an arranged marriage? I mean, are you getting married for the sake of getting married or are you really going to do this?"
Finally, we were getting somewhere.
"You don't seem the type to have an arranged marriage. I mean judging by what I know about you, you have been born and raised here and you seem pretty liberal in your ideology. I find it fascinating that for someone who has been exposed to this society and the people around you, that you haven't thought about doing things your own way?"
"Are you asking me or you going to tell me what you think," I asked point blankly. He shot me a 'you caught me' look. I knew that he already knew.
"You are a very spiritual person. I feel that from you from your writing. And when you put that spirit into your written work, you amaze me with your words. You are driven and you base it on your faith. You looked at the characters in the novels in a different light--in a way that I, myself, had not seen before and I recognized your style. Even though you support your argument and your thesis with factual situations in the books we studied, you took a risk and delved into the spiritual element of the plot and the characters to reveal a three-dimensional angle. And that is who you are. I don't really need to ask why you are embarking on an arranged marriage. I already have that answer...you were slightly doubtful in the beginnning but now you know, more than ever, that it's right for you. And as your confidence increased, so did your writing skills. You are hitting the mark now, without even knowing it."
The clock struck 10pm and the headlights of my father's car shone into the school. I quickly gathered up my books without saying a word. I felt if I said anything, I would spoil his impression of me. It was like Cinderella leaving the ball. But I did not have to leave anything behind. The shoe already fit--he knew it and just wanted me to know it.
I was about to head for the doors but turned around and walked back to Grant. He stood up and extended his hand before I reached him.
"Good luck on your exams. Good luck in your married life. And don't stop writing. The future awaits your written word." I shook his hand and suddenly shyness overcame me. I turned away from my mentor and flew through the doors to the car.
My father was squinting through the windshield again and when I sat down, he started up again.
"I hope you are going to get over 90% in your course with all that time you spend with that boy! Thank God by this summer you will be married and accounted for!" I looked through the windshield and as Grant was leaving, he waved to me. I waved back while my father shook his head, disapprovingly.
THE FACTS
I did not get over 90% in my first year English class. I got a 75%.
My classmates invited me out to join them and Grant right after our exam but I declined. I received the affirmation I needed.
I stunned my father by switching my major from Sociology to English after my first year.
That summer, I prepared myself for the biggest exam ever...my arranged marriage.
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