Love in a Headscarf Read Online Free PDF Page A

hair under control. I immediately feel more relaxed.
    “Poor thing,” says my mum, patting me on the head.
    I turn to my father who is sitting in his special chair, remote control poised to ignite the television and check the latest news. I interject between him and his news fix, “What is your opinion, Dad? Did you like him?”
    “He seems nice,” he confirms. “It’s up to you now. Whatever you think you want to do.”
    I pout.
    “We’re your parents,” he continues. “We can advise you but you are the one who has to live with him for the rest of your life.”
    “What about everyone else?” I ask.
    “I thought he seemed nice too,” says my sister-in-law, stretching her legs out onto the coffee table. “I think he would make a good husband and you would be very happy. He’s got a nice family, good job; he’s religious, quite nice-looking.” She pauses and then looks up at me mock-offended. “What? What? I can’t observe if a man is handsome?”
    I turn to my mother for her opinion. “You know, many years ago a family would accept the first decent proposal that came along,” she says, then pauses. “He’s a good choice. You shouldn’t miss him.” Her hesitation belies her strong words. I can tell straight away that my feelings mirror hers, but I value her advice. As a woman, a wife, and a mother, she has already been through the journey that I am about to set sail on.
    “He seems nice but that is what all of you keep saying: nice, nice, nice. How am I supposed to know? How do I know?” I look pleadingly at everyone.
    Can you ever know? ask their eyes.
    He was my first, a prince among princes. Each one would offer me a very different life. How to choose?
    Romance asked: Does he make you tingle?
    The Buxom Aunties whispered: Is he a good catch?
    Faith asked: Is he a practicing Muslim like you?
    I was bewildered by my own mistaken belief that there were contradictions in these different perspectives about love that came from faith or tradition, from popular or Asian culture.
    It all came down to the same question: Is he the one?

Safura
    T he next morning the matchmaker called. She was a member of the Marriage Committee at the local mosque, a group of women whose raison d’être was to introduce families who wanted their sons and daughters to get married. When your child was ready to marry, you would approach the committee and inform them that you were looking for a partner for your child. The committee members would offer prospective suitors a wide network of contacts and an unconditional dedication of their time and energy toward meeting your needs. The community was always genuinely concerned that its younger members should be helped toward attaining fulfilled and happy lives. A well-matched and happy marriage was considered a critical component.
    The very first time that the matchmaker had rung our home, she had offered a courteous preamble about the importance of getting young people married to suitable partners. It was up to the whole community to assist in the process, she had commented. The matchmaker’s opening statement was both polite and heartfelt.
    Marriage is a communal matter, and those who volunteer to be matchmakers play an essential part in protecting the existence of the family unit. In Islamic thinking, someone who brings two people together in marriage gains an immense spiritual reward for their good deed. The matchmaker pointed out to my mother that since I was now at university, it was a very suitable time to start on the search for a husband. It was accepted that a young woman would complete her education, if she chose to, before she got married.
    “These things take time,” she had advised my mother learnedly. “And if you find the right person, then Shelina can get married and continue studying, or they can get engaged and then marry after Shelina finishes her degree.”
    Then she added ominously, “The good boys get snapped up very quickly these days.” She paused and