To Find a Groom – Part 1

To Find a Groom – Part 1

Tasneem Basha


“Your cousin’s fixed” said mummy dearest.  Awesome, didn’t even know she was broken…The Good Lord knew I hated these conversations.  They only ever led in one direction; when was I going to find a groom and tie the knot? It was time.  I had turned 21 two months earlier and I could see no conceivable way to avoid this without breaking my parents heart.  The fact that I had no one that I was particularly close to or even an inclination to get married carried no weight with my family.  I could hear the chest freezer opening and those dreaded samoosas being taken out.  It was time.  


Let me tell you a bit about my family.  We’re Urdu-speaking.  Well more my dad, I just understand the gist of conversations and maybe a few phrases here and there.  We’re also “middle class” which in the Indian community means poor *rolls eyes* and even though my dad is fair my complexion leaned a little more toward the brown side like my mum.  The best part of my family also turns out to be the most challenging – they have no concept of racism, classism (if that’s even a word) or sectarianism.  Everyone from all walks of life was always welcome in our home and at our table and most annoyingly, to my favourite DVD’s.  We learned a lot about the world and different cultures at our kitchen table.


However, this 70’s love and peace mentality kind of buffered us from the true workings of the Muslim Indian community and it only really became apparent to me in university when a few guys asked what “ghaam” I came from.  I nearly answered “bubble-ghaam” but they looked a bit nerdish and anyway I had reason to believe the question came about based purely on the coffee colour of my skin in comparison to the milk white of their female friends. 


So yip, I was a bit of a loner; gawky and unsure amongst the GHD’d princesses with 2 cell-phones and loud, confident giggles.  I studied hard, kept a low profile and was quite content to game in my free time.  Life was simple.  It was great.


Until the day my mother brought home a pair of black satin strappy sandals and threw them on my bedroom floor.


I was about to have a rude awakening.


To be continued…






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