Her words brought up the ultimate issue for South Asian women as we reach and then pass the age of 30: are our lists of “must have this” based on our unrealistic desires or have we matured enough to know the difference between whimsical want and realistic need? And if not, is it so bad to want whimsy?

A close friend of mine has been searching for a man that has a baby face and a thin frame for the past ten years. On her 31st birthday she ran out of fingers counting all the 20 year old boys she had been attracted because no man her age had a baby face. Well, not the single ones anyways. Another friend cried on her 29th birthday wanting to know when she would be rescued from her life by a guy. At 29 she is the Vice President of marketing at a successful media agency, but had somehow not let go of the desire to be saved by prince charming. Both these women have been pursued by all types of successful, good looking men, to no avail.

These same women bash those of our friends that married men that are a little chubby, a little dorky and perhaps a little less professionally successful. Often I find myself joining the bashing and making comments like, “God, she should not have settled.”

But after watching that episode of Sex and the City I thought: eureka, they didn’t settle, they realized that falling in love with the person was more important than marking off a checklist in their head. And voila I matured in that moment. This left me to wonder whether I had been wrong all these years trying to find “Mr. Right” when I should have been deconstructing my own needs and evaluating myself more.

– Sana Mehmood

Sometimes, we walk down paths in our lives so that when we look back, we marvel at what we went through and wonder. Would we go down that same path again if given the choice?  Because at the time that we make certain choices, we don’t have a crystal ball to foresee what the ramifications of that choice will be.  All we have is our faith…first in God and then in ourselves.  Nor do we know what adversity we may face due to our choice.  Such was our choice.  And I say our choice, because when my husband and I chose to get married despite me being fifteen years his senior, we realized that the strength of our commitment had to be mutual.  That was the only way that we would ever get married and stay married.  Now, almost four years into our marriage and seven years of knowing each other, we thank God for blessing us with each other’s love and companionship.

Pre-Marriage

When we first got to know each other, my husband and I were virtual classmates living in two opposite sides of the U.S.  It was only after a year of struggling through Islamic studies online classes and getting to know each other incidentally and without pretention did we approach the idea of marriage.  I wanted to marry someone like him, but not necessarily him; and he felt the same way.  Our age difference was so great that despite our open-mindedness, we couldn’t mentally overcome the obstacles and fathom our unconventional relationship.  Yet at the same time, we did realize that we wanted to marry no one else except each other.

Once committed, neither one of us had any illusions about the opposition that we were about to face.  We both made a conscious decision to do things “the right way”; for God’s pleasure and for our parents’ sake.  From his side, he left his job and lost his U.S. immigration status.  From my side, I gave up my job and eventually left the only home I knew.  But these were small costs.  The largest cost for both of us was the turmoil and hurt we caused to our families.  If we could reverse and erase anything, that is what we would choose.  His family tried all kinds of means for the matter to “just end”.  His mother was so distraught and vehemently opposed that over time it affected her health and emotional well being.  Words cannot describe her reaction.  When he did not relent, his family tried appealing to me gently at times and threateningly in others.  In my family, my mother stopped talking to me – her only daughter and confidante.  Since my father supported me after meeting my fiance, my parent’s relationship became strained over their different stances.  All of this went on for two long years.

During those two years, we were oceans apart in two different countries.  The firm resolve that we had initially was shaken many times.  It was only to be expected.  We were being worn down so we would break.  To this day, I can say with confidence that it was only our prayers and beseeching God for guidance that carried us through that storm.  Weeks to a month at a time would pass with no contact.  The distance added to the thought that marriage was a distant illusion.  How?  When?  All of this adversity trained us to the point where we sincerely prayed to God for what was best for both of us, even if that meant going our separate ways.  Our faith in each may have wavered during those years, but never did our faith in God and His mercy waver.

Marriage

Finally, with my father’s job moving to the same country that my fiance was in, I decided to go there myself and determine if we wanted to go forward and get married or not.  Two months earlier, we had tried to do a nikaah remotely with me being in the U.S. with family and him abroad.  But after all of the opposition that had transpired over the last two years, I couldn’t go through with it.  Deep down, I knew I wanted to marry him, but I needed to see him and figure out face to face how I felt.  We had both prayed continuously for guidance, so there was nothing to lose.

Seeing him after over two years, I felt nervous and did not know what to expect.  I wanted to gauge my level of comfort upon meeting him.  It was myself I doubted, not him.  I needed to see if I felt strong enough to weather the opposition.  All praise is for God.  I felt so comfortable from the time I saw him at the airport with my father.  Within a few weeks, our nikaah was done Islamically at the courthouse.  I think my father felt such happiness and relief despite the circumstances.  We were happy for the simplicity of our nikaah; we just wished we could have had our families share our happiness with us.  But in cases such as ours, there is no wisdom in dwelling on what could have been.

In the first year and a half of our marriage, we lived in the same city as his family.  I knew no one besides my husband.  I was not accepted by his family, so my name was not even mentioned in their household. My husband would go to family events alone.  But I was okay with all of this, despite feeling very sad at times.  I never wanted him to break ties with his family.  His family had God-given rights on him.  If anything, I wanted relations to be repaired and start healing.

We had a lot of misunderstandings in those first two years.  My husband struggled with the close bonds I had formed over the years with family.  He wanted his rightful place in my life.  This was one of the first initial stumbling blocks in our relationship highlighting our age difference.  Meanwhile, I wanted him to accept me for who I was.  We were really getting to know each other now.  Even though our particular struggles may have been different, the adjustments that every newly married couple goes through were the same.

Today

Even though we have been married almost four years, I feel like I have been with my husband forever.  It would be hard to imagine life without each other.  Slowly, with lots of prayer, some family members are accepting us.  His mother though keeps her stance.

We joke about the nuances behind our age differences, and I call him an old man since he conks out by 9 p.m. at times.  Yet, we both have to be cognizant and comfortable with the future ramifications of being together.  As we get older, we realize that our age difference will become more pronounced to us.  We have to be very secure in our commitment to handle all of the challenges of the future.  But our biggest secret is the strength of our relationship to God individually and as a couple.  And with this strength, we trust in God and look forward to happiness today and always…God willing.

— Shabana Umar*

*The author’s name has been changed to protect her privacy.

But luckily, I did get divorced, and soon discovered something crazy about myself: I wasn’t perfect! This rude awakening could only mean one thing: find out whose fault it is that I’m not perfect. Because I know it’s not mine!

As a British born Pakistani Muslim, now living in America, I already have enough questions about my identity and future. And it doesn’t help that Hollywood and Bollywood have spent decades romanticizing the whole, “Singing in the Rain” concept. Thanks to them, I was quite sure my future involved me singing and dancing in the rain, while wearing a

white sari, joined by the love of my life, who would later have to fight some f’ugly looking bad guys to defend my honor. Sadly, I would eventually have to die in child birth after his mother had finally come around to accepting me for who I was: A Pakistani-British-American-Delusional-Muslim! (Not necessarily in that order!)

So it’s the media’s fault as usual!

Cue Real Life:  At the ripe old age of 29, I was a newly divorced, single-mother, eagerly awaiting the end of my agonizing twenties. There was never a singing in the rain moment for me, and that’s one of many reasons I’m now completely turned-off of all Indian movies.

In this new chapter of my life, I found myself asking that famed Eliza Doolittle question again: “What’s to become of me?” I’m sure my parent’s and extended family were wondering the same thing. As a Pakistani-Muslim female, I may as well start digging my own grave, because as one uncle so tenderly put it, “Why are you going to leave him now, you have a child. No one’s going to marry you if you have a child. And anyway, men want virgins. And you have a child. Remember!”

So apparently, the moment I got divorced, I was supposed to be thinking about the likelihood of getting remarried. WITH A CHILD, REMEMBER!

OMG! What is wrong with our people? Can’t a girl just end a marriage without being harassed about the prospect of never getting married again? Note my use of the word prospect. What some see as “doomed,” (never getting married again) I see as an “opportunity” to live a free and happy life, never having to worry about getting pregnant again! (Oh no! You’re not even over the V-word yet, and here I go with the P-word)! To my non-Desi readers, any words that can be associated with “marital relations” should be strictly reserved for doctor’s visits. Female doctor’s visits that is!

So back to the nagging question: “What’s to become of me?”

Will a “misogynistic and snobby phonetics professor” take me in and teach me how to be a proper lady; a lady that doesn’t go around using vulgar words such as virgin and pregnant. Oh, wooouldn’t it be love-er-ly? Professor Higgins wouldn’t mind the fact that I HAVE A CHILD! Especially since I’d waited until after I was married to conceive it! (You know what I’m getting at!)

To be honest, I didn’t allow myself very much time to ponder that question. Two months after I’d filed for divorce, I enrolled full-time with the University of Phoenix. Hamzah was only three years old, and I was still committed to being a stay at home mother. (Again, note my use of the word committed, another double meaning!) I resisted the urge to put Hamzah in preschool, and abandoned any dreams of having a social life by pursuing a degree online. Playing with Hamzah by day, and studying by night.

Some people were worried that the heavy load I’d taken upon myself was going to send me into an early grave. (One which I was supposed to be digging anyway)! However, I noticed that the less time I had for wondering “what was to become of me” or whether or not I’d get proposals again, the better off I was. It made me mentally and emotionally stronger too. It was also better for Hamzah to see I was capable of being more than just a domestic diva! Having a busy schedule and a child didn’t allow for a nervous breakdown either.

I also knew that a degree would provide me with something tangible. Something that I could say I’d accomplished, and worked hard for. Also, a degree puts you in a position to say, “I have a degree, I don’t need a man!” Although, I won’t feel completely secure until I can say, “I have a job, I don’t need man!” Because it’s the security of having your own money that makes man an unnecessary appendage! (No, I’m not a feminist man-hater. I just think and write like one sometimes)!

What I have learned over the past five years of obsessing over me, myself & I, is that it doesn’t matter what your pre or post divorce mental state is. What matters is whether or not you can live with yourself after the diagnosis.

My advice to fellow divorcees:  Be prepared to be enlightened. Oh, and next time it rains, wear black!

— Rabiya Khan, Guest Columnist for NEEM Magazine

Having had met my own Punjabi Luc Teyssier and marrying him this past summer, I – like Kate – followed the little pitter-patters of my own love-struck heart all the way across the Atlantic pond and built a new abode amidst the backdrop of Dubai’s SimCity paradise. I was pretty sure my own nomadic upbringing as well as my childhood visits to Dubai would insulate me during the adjustment phase– and of course, I had the adage ‘Love conquers all’ on my side. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before the realities of moving for love hit me as hard as Dubai’s unyielding humidity, and I realized – as most newly weds soon do – that happily ever after takes a lot of work, especially in a new city!

I know there are ample blogs and articles out there that can better familiarize you with all the methodical steps you need to take into consideration when relocating and joining the transient expat community. Similarly, many sites offer a list of hardships one should prepare for when relocating for a significant other, but I believe each experience is unique. For instance, what may be hard for me (i.e: it really sucks that I always get my American Idol news at least one day late) may not be hard for you, and vice versa.  Rather than focusing on the challenges of moving for love which, on a personal level, vary in magnitude from missing friends and family to missing my favorite noodle house in DC – I want to highlight how, in addition to giving you a lifetime of leverage over your spouse (“remember when I left all my friends and family for you?”), following your heart to a new country can actually offer the opportunity to fortify your relationship bond.

Many of our parents made the decision to uproot from South Asia to the US – most of them multi-tasking building a marriage with building a life in America. This undertaking of establishing ‘homes’ in a foreign backdrop, far from all things familiar, is something many of us under appreciate.  It wasn’t until my own move to Dubai that I developed a newfound respect for my own mother, who joined my father in the US back in 1981 – moving soon after their nuptials, not so much for love, but rather out of marital obligation. I watched her repeat this relocation as we whizzed back and forth across Africa and Asia, following my father on his assignments. Despite not having the resources I have come to rely so heavily on during my own induction to Dubai and matrimony (Lonely Planet to navigate the Souks; Internet to locate fine dining options and restaurants; Gchat to connect with friends; Skype to make international phone calls; and uTorrent to download American Idol) – my parents handled each move with optimism, grace and an eagerness to immerse my sisters and I into the language and culture of our host countries.

Their navigation of foreign surroundings not only helped them to orient themselves in new landscapes but also affirmed their faith in their budding partnership. They went from being an arranged unit brought together through parental maneuvering to a loving unit that sought out the growing familiarity of each other in unfamiliar backdrops. Moving taught my parents how to communicate better and allowed them to identify that fine balance of functioning inter-dependency without being overbearing – and soon after I saw my mother follow my father, not out of obligation – but out of love.

It is through their example, that I realize the details of getting used to Dubai will settle into place one by one with a little bit (okay, a lot) of effort and patience. But more importantly, I know that rather than focusing on all the newness and uncertainties, I have the chance to inject new levels of amazing in my marriage. If I had stayed in DC, I would have relied on my familiar surroundings and friends as an outlet and a distraction. Sure, marriage would have been a change – but not on this magnitude. Being away from the familiar, gives you a heightened sense of all the changes in your life. In Dubai, my outlet and best friend is my husband and he is there as I take on one of the biggest milestones of my life: Marriage.  I confide directly in him through the good and bad of it– because the other people I may have confided in otherwise happen to be in different time zones.  Necessity as we take on this alien terrain of Dubai and marriage has made us both more open and receptive.  We’ve learned to be more patient and honest with each other in lieu of not having another immediate support system to fall back on. He’s my co-pilot as I take in all these new experiences and I know I appreciate him more because I have come to rely on him faster and more frequently in Dubai.

During the quiet moments when we both occupy a room, there is a sense of calm that takes over me as I watch him unassumingly going about his own business.  I find his presence alone to be distinctly reassuring. If we hadn’t moved, I know that marriage would have been the biggest change I immediately faced – but in Dubai – he’s my only constant.  My move for love was the catalyst to make my love stronger – because when things are unfamiliar, you cling to what is familiar – and in this case – that’s my husband and my best friend; my very own Punjabi Luc Teyssier; and my very own happily ever after: roll the credits.

— Rehana Raza Azim

Rehana is based in Dubai and is a guest writer for NEEM Magazine.