Love in a Headscarf Read Free Page A

she places the teacups on the table, or how she hands out the plates of halwa could change her fate.
    “Bringing in the samosas” was originally designed for the groom-to-be and his entourage to cast their eyes over the potential wife. The girl was not wheeled out in order for her to have an opinion or play any part in the decision-making process. Her fate would be determined by the groom and his family. He was the hunter, she the hunted.
    The boy would ask himself: was she attractive? The male elders would consider: was this a good match? The entire transaction would be sealed with a few glances of the groom at his bride-to-be. She might be so covered up that he could barely see her, or, as she served him his tea, she might have the audacity to raise her eyes to his and glance cheekily at him. It was the same moment, whether from a golden Bollywood film or Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. The serving of the samosas was able to change futures, destinies, and families.
    The girl did not speak during this process. Her role was to be modest and demure. In very conventional circumstances she would not have entered the room beforehand, as I had done, nor—heaven have mercy—would she have spoken. The momentary connection that the crispy meat-filled pastries had created would determine the groom’s decision. All the poor girl could do was to wait for the verdict. If the response was negative, and if she had already ticked the box of “good” family, then what could she do but assume her looks had let her down?
    The female relatives who have also come to visit will grill the poor young woman and deliver their verdict to the groom and the male decision-makers of the family. The boy will only know of the bride-to-be what the womenfolk have told him. The system does not allow for the fact that the boy may find a very different type of woman attractive than his female relatives might expect. He must accept that Mother Knows Best.
    The importance of the female opinion is not to be underestimated. A marriage is not just between the bride and groom, but also between their families. Traditionally, a wife would most likely not have worked. She would spend more time with her mother-in-law and sisters-in-law than with her husband, as the extended family might live together. Even when the couple was to go out, she would socialize with the women while he relaxed with the men. Creating happiness in the extended family home was as much of a challenge for the new bride as creating sparks in the nuptial chamber.
    I hand out the plates and snacks. This time when I come past Ali I shine a warm smile in his direction. Somewhere in that process my confidence and personality return, and it feels good. He smiles back nervously, but we have made a connection. “Thank you,” he says—it is the first time he has spoken directly to me. I feel more focused as I return to the kitchen. I have walked into a room full of people who have come to visit just for me, I have smiled, I have spoken, and I have made radio contact with a boy who is not unattractive.
    As I return to the kitchen, my mother follows me. She is small, with soft brown skin and a smile that can lift me out of even the darkest mood. I look at her lovingly, encouraging her to reveal her secret. She speaks to me in a silent whisper. My eyebrows rise in confusion. She turns around and closes the kitchen door. “You need to go into the other room and talk to him.” My family and his are happy for us to spend some time getting to know each other.
    The main act is about to begin: I am going to talk to a man about Getting Married.
    I peer into the dining room to make sure everything is in order and then sit down. This is to be the arena for our negotiations. Like the living room, it is square, but this time decorated in shades of blue, with a large mahogany dining table at the center. The chairs are dark brown with curving arms and cream damask cushions. In the middle of the table yellow