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The courtship begins CATHERINE PORTER The story so far . . . Asim Bukhari returned to
Karachi, where his sisters had five candidates lined up for an arranged
marriage. In less than a month, he
selected Nida and in yesterday's chapter, married her. Today, in the concluding
chapter, the courtship begins. To see them together, you'd
think they were high school sweethearts who finally tied the knot after years
of dating. They whisper into one another's
ears, hold hands, flirt outrageously. You'd never guess that before
their wedding night, four short days ago, Asim and Nida Bukhari had never
met. "Right after the marriage,
they seem like childhood friends. That's how love starts over here,"
says Asim's nephew Farhan, watching them from the same spot four nights ago
where he was heckling Asim to speak to Nida for the first time. Tonight is their valima,
or reception, which in It is at the same outdoor
wedding hall where they were married, four blocks away from his sister's
home. Nida returns from the beauty
parlour in the gold-embroidered purple dress and shawl Asim's sisters bought
for her and settles on to their new bed. It was sent by her parents as
part of her dowry, and came with matching blue-gray bedside tables, a vanity
table, and a wardrobe, where her new dresses now hang snugly beside his
suits. Coloured Styrofoam stars and hearts still glitter on the bedroom
ceiling above her head, but the canopy of jasmine flowers and red roses are
gone. She feels settled, watching her
new nieces rush around her, searching for mascara, brushing their hair in her
mirror. Tonight, there are no tears. Just as the henna is beginning
to fade from her hands and feet, so have her fears and sorrow. "I feel very good,"
she says smiling. "Confident." At They arrive at the outdoor hall,
walk casually along the same red carpet where both had trembled, and climb up
onto the same small stage where they had sat like strangers on a subway. Now,
they both smile at each other and for the camera. She shifts positions. Her back
is sore from the heavy gown. "Can I rub it?" he
whispers, grinning. "Just relax. Lay down on the couch." She giggles and fixes her face
for another photo. When they leave, Nida doesn't
cry while hugging her parents goodbye. She has a new home now. Four days can make a lifetime of
difference. Since their first night
together, Asim and Nida have proceeded backwards along the typical course of
a Western romantic relationship. First married, then physically intimate,
they are now entering the stage of courtship. They emerge together from their
bedroom in the mornings and sit side-by-side at the family's dining table,
sharing a plate of fried eggs and white bread. They exchange childhood
stories. In the back seat of a car,
returning from a family party, he musters the courage to wrap his arm around
her. "That's amazing. We went to
the same school," he exclaims, rolling past the apartment building he
visited with his sisters less than a month before to see another prospective
bride. Their first words to one another
on their wedding night had been nervous, tentative, simple: Hello. Since then, there have been
many, many more. They are discovering one
another: His favourite meal is alu bengan (potato, eggplant curry).
Hers is chicken biryani. He isn't a morning person. She plays
badminton. He's taken her to his parents'
gravesites to introduce her to them, and when her parents approach another
family with a formal marriage proposal on behalf of her older brother, he is
asked to take part in the interview. He's even told her about Farah,
the Pakistani woman he dated in Nida's strength surprised him. "Is it over?" she
asked. "As long as it's over, then it's okay." It is over, he says. He won't
contact Farah again. And, if she contacts him, he'll make it clear that he
respects her, wishes her the best, but doesn't want to speak to her ever
again. He is now married to Nida. For a person who wavers before
decisions, the decision to marry Nida is one Asim made with conviction. And
it is probably the most important decision he'll ever make in his life. Was it the right one? "Yes," he says without
hesitation. "I think she will be faithful, trustworthy, lovable, kind
and devoted to me and my family. I think she can keep me happy." Slowly, magically, the sparks of
love have begun to flare. She gets the butterflies when he
enters the room, and follows him with her eyes when he leaves. "When I see her, I don't
think about my past," he says. "I feel comfort in her arms." Nida has slipped easily into the
fold of Asim's six sisters and 15 nieces and nephews. They already call her
"Mami," or Auntie, and sit curled with her on the bed, flipping
through family photos and chatting. Which is essential, because
after Asim returns to After so much time apart, their
honeymoon phase will be long over and the real voyage of their marriage will
begin. Like many new immigrants to But, over the weeks, he has come
to see how he has changed since he packed his bags for "What's wrong with this
road? Nothing's wrong with this road," he says derisively about a
typical Pakistani street. "That's what's wrong with this road!" The pollution, the poverty, the
power failures — daily life in It's not just the Canadian
comforts he misses either. It is the diversity of people and ideas; the
freedom his new country offers. Now, when he says "back
home," he is talking about One evening before his wedding,
sitting in a small park near the family home, he asks his nephew Farhan what
he wants to do after he touches down at Pearson International this month. Farhan is a 24-year-old dental
surgeon who is coming on a year-long work visa, with the hopes of getting
landed immigrant status. "What do you have over
there?" Farhan replies. "We," says Asim,
"have everything." But as long as most of his
family is in One night, before their valima,
Aapi breaks down on a couch in the family room and begins to cry. She misses
their mother, and she misses their brother Faheem. He had hoped to fly over
from "We are here to support
you," he whispers, curling Aapi's face into his neck and stroking her
cheek. The move for Nida, he knows,
will be even more disrupting, not only because she will be flying so far away
from her family. She has never worn a pair of
jeans. She has never been to a movie theatre. She has never even walked out
onto neighbourhood streets alone. As is custom to Pakistani women her age and
class, she is always accompanied by a family member. "When she sees half-naked
women hanging around kissing in public places, she'll be really shocked,"
Asim says. Most women in her neighbourhood
head out into the streets covered head-to-toe in a black burka, only
their eyes revealed through slits. "But I told her it is a free country
and people can kiss without the police stopping them. I also told her about
tank tops." Faheem was the first of the 10
Bukhari siblings to move to The streets outside were so
quiet — no subzi wallahs pushing their carts of vegetables, no
sputtering motorized rickshaws and rattling donkey wagons. When the doorbell
rang in the middle of the day, she'd hide trembling in her bedroom, too
frightened to answer in case it was a man. She was overwhelmed, too, by the
mounting work confronting her — there was no cook, no sweeper, no servants to
help with the chores. "Life here is too
hard," she says. For Nida, it will be easier. She
won't be isolated, moving into Faheem and Tabassum's new home in Asim says he will teach her to
drive, so she'll have more freedom during the days while he is at work. And
he'll allow her to work, if she wants to. During the months that they are
separated, he plans to make " In them, he will introduce Nida
to the strange and wonderful practicalities of the new life awaiting her —
the smoothly-paved streets, the giant air-conditioned supermarkets, the
weekly collection of garbage by trucks instead of donkey carts. In the meantime, he'll have to
work extra hours at his brother's electronics stores and look for job as an
accountant immediately, to support her and save money to bring her here. Ever since he said "I
accept" on their wedding night, he has felt a weighty responsibility. He
can no longer be the family baby. At 31, he is now a married man. But Asim realizes they are only
at the very beginning of a long voyage together. "It will take time,"
he says. Fitting her new suits into the
bedroom wardrobe, Nida says she has faith it will work out. That, at its
basis, is what arranged marriages are built upon: faith in one's family to
pick the right spouse, and faith in God to guide the relationship. And when they encounter
difficulties, she knows both their extended families will be there to help
and support them — whether in That also is what sustains
arranged marriages, and perhaps was the secret to her parents' happy
marriage, and her grandparents' before that. "I don't know what is "I will adjust." All nine chapters of A
Wedding Story and a photo gallery is available online at: |
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