Quarter Life Crisis

“Rabiya, you are painfully bad.” This one sentence out of my mother’s mouth, coupled with the expression on her face was enough to (for once) quiet me and put me completely to shame.

Every time she brings up the prospect of marriage or a potential ‘candidate’ that some wonderful friend of hers has mentioned, I throw temper tantrums, offer my three younger sisters in my place, and remind her that pursuing my education should be like a Get Out of Jail Free when it comes to the notion of marriage (for the next five years at least). My mother not only puts up with my insolent-child like antics, she often even jokes with me. She jokingly warns me that if I wait too long, the only options I will have left are men who are ugly or will make me keep my mouth shut. The only time see her puts real pressure on me is when overbearing family or friends impose on her their own screwed up notions of what they think her priorities should be for her daughters.

Today, she made me sit down with her to watch an episode of Shaadi Online, a TV show on Geo. I found it amusing, and of course I had to let my mother know this with every other comment that flew out of my mouth. One man, in detailing out what his requirements are for his perfect match, said he wants a seedi (simple) girl. I of course blurted out something like why is this guy looking for a simpleton wife online, when the true half-wits probably cannot even turn on their computers. My mother shot me an annoyed look, but she had a half smile on her face, which was the encouragement I needed to keep going. She had to spend half an hour listening to my obnoxious comments, at the end of which, she turned off the TV, and I learned her actual motive in making me watch the show with her. She started telling me about this guy that lives in Chicago, related to one of her friends from the Masjid. At the end of it, she said something like, ‘they want to know our demands.’ I replied with, “Our demands? We all have to be on the very same page? And do we get to make a list of demands, kind of like a birthday wish list or something?” My mother ignored my lame comment and kept going, “He needs to be well educated, from a good family, and (I think the last one was) well established (not really sure what that means).” I replied with, “Well, what if I want someone that’s uneducated, from a bad family, and anti-established?” She gave me a disappointed look, an exasperated sigh, and told me I was painfully bad.

A few weeks ago, I lost my nanni, a woman very close to me. It was devastating, and I sometimes think of one of the last things she said to me. She asked me if I wanted the chooriya (bangles). My grandmother had these four gold bangles that I absolutely love, and would often offer them to me if I agreed to get married. This little bribe became a family joke, and my mother and others would often tell me that nanni wants to know if I want those bangles yet. When she said this to me, lying in her hospital bed days from passing, the many family members in the room at the time laughed at this and I think someone said something like ‘you know what that means’. I laughed as well, told her I could not accept them until I met her conditions, gave her a hug, and then left the room to cry.

Despite the fact that I know my nanni was proud of me and that my mother is as well, I cannot help but thinking I have left them down. At my age, my mother had finished her Bachelor’s and was married and taking care of an entire family. I can barely take care of myself. And what do I have to show for my twenty-five years? I have postponed being a contributing member of this society for another year to do who knows what. Sigh.