Love in a Headscarf Read Online Free PDF

asked, “Shall I start looking for someone for her?”
    Both my mother and the matchmaker knew that the question was for decorum only. They were both searching already. Parental eyes are constantly scrutinizing potential matches from childhood, making a point to come back to them when the possible suitors have grown up. It was important to think long-term when finding a partner. Etiquette demanded a reply and my mother responded by thanking her for her concern, acknowledging the challenges that matchmakers face and reiterating the reward they would gain for carrying out their Islamic duties with such diligence.
    “I have someone to suggest,” cut in the matchmaker. “A very nice boy.”
    My mother responded with an encouraging sound and the matchmaker filled in the details. My mother listened carefully, making little scribbles on the notepad, nodding vigorously as the matchmaker listed the young man’s virtues. She described his family and their connections until my mother knew exactly who they were. She elaborated on the details of the family’s finances, qualities, reputations, and education. She went on to make comments about the future mother-in-law and what she had specified as requirements for her son’s bride. She closed her speech with a brief description of the boy himself.
    “I will speak to Shelina and see what she thinks,” responded my mother. “And then I will ring you back and let you know.” She paused. “Thank you so much for thinking of Shelina. It is very much appreciated.”
    My mother then relayed the details to me and the family. He was religious, educated, had a good job, and was from a respected family. He was the right age and apparently quite handsome, too. “He sounds promising,” I had commented. Everyone agreed, and my mother rang back to confirm our interest.
    The next time the matchmaker rang was to confirm a date and time for the suitor to visit. “They are very excited and looking forward to meeting Shelina,” she had added.
    Now, post-meeting, she was ringing again to gather our feedback. She would already have spoken to the boy’s family—they were considered to be in the driver’s seat.
    My mother switched the call to speakerphone so I could listen to their conversation. They chatted for a while, courteous small talk. Then, abruptly, she asked, “What did Shelina think?” My mother jolted in shock, despite fully expecting the question. Her answer was, of course, the sole purpose of the conversation.
    My mother maneuvered deftly to avoid answering the question first. “Why don’t you tell me what Ali thought?” she asked in return. Offering an opinion was complicated. If we were the first to say that I liked him and they had said no, it would leave us vulnerable and embarrassed. If we said yes first and they said yes anyway, it would make us seem too forward. If we said no first and they had been planning to say yes, they would change their minds and say no to avoid being rejected, and so we would never know. But if they went first and said no, then if we said no, it would look like we had meant to say yes but were only saying no because they had done so. In addition to this, we were conscious that we would meet these individuals and their close relatives at the mosque and community events, and while the meeting would never be spoken of, everyone would be thinking about it. The denouement had to be handled diplomatically, to avoid anyone being insulted.
    The matchmaker relented. “He really liked her and wants to meet again if Shelina is interested.” It was quite common these days to have at least a second meeting, much in the style of the first, rather like second viewings to buy a house. In some quarters of the Asian and Muslim community the first meeting, which had once been risqué, was now standard. Now the boundaries of cultural acceptability were being pushed to a second meeting. Modernity was taking its toll.
    It had once been quite common for the boy’s