Disclaimer: Some readers may consider the content of this piece to be sensitive or inappropriate. A few may feel the need to perform their ablutions if these themes are directly addressed. Therefore, discretion has been used where needed to prevent the circumstance of having to read this entire piece by the sink.
Fear is the byproduct of shame. Think about it. Would we ever be scared to do anything if it weren’t for the shame we might experience afterwards? What if we fail? How will our parents react? How will society view us? And for the lucky ones who don’t care about any of these things, how will we face ourselves in the mirror after, or if...? Now, I know all of this sounds rather abstract and random at best, but hear me out. Shame makes us do really stupid things, even when we’re aware of our stupidity. For example, I never go out straight after work because I’m scared that someone might see me in my rundown condition and that would make me feel super ashamed about my appearance. I also don’t eat burgers in the presence of cute boys, in case something gets ‘smushed’ on my face (it’s not a word, but I really don’t know how else to describe this) or stuck in my teeth. I would rather choke to death than burp in the company of acquaintances and the like, and I would never work out at Sukh Chan in the same gear I wear to Gymkhana on my days off.
But that’s just the beginning of it. The fear-shame complex acts as a governing body in this city of lights and heroin addicts. It’s the crux of our values. Now, I can’t believe I’m about to admit this, because I know it’s totally ridiculous, but I am scared of the shame I will feel on my next birthday. I’m going deeper and deeper into my late twenties and I’m not married. Which means I’m going to have to marry the first person who fits 50 per cent of my criteria. Which means I’m going to have to lay with a man I don’t know. Oh, about this. Is it consensual if you’ve been forced into it not by someone else (per se), but by your own values and fears, or by shame? I’m really not sure.
Very rarely do we come across two people who seem like they belong together. They smile with their eyes, they remain almost constantly flushed in the face, they are courteous to each other, and they wear their commitment on their faces. Sure, they have problems, but their union seems effortless rather than contrived. I came across one such couple last December. Farzeen and Ahmed went to university together, along with my very good friend, Sanam. I met them during Sanam’s wedding and immediately knew that they were going out. Farzeen was kind and simple - the kind of girl who has never owned a designer bag and would probably never care for one - and Ahmed was well-mannered and intelligent - the kind of guy who gets fourteen A’s in his O-levels. They always travelled together and sat together and joked together. They paired up in all the dances and always seemed to be making plans to hang out later. To me, it was the simplest and most beautiful relationship I had ever witnessed. So, I approached Farzeen one day, hoping for a romantic story of pure non-material love. “How did you and Ahmed meet?” I asked her. “You guys are the cutest couple I have ever seen!”
“Oh, we’re not a couple,” Farzeen replied with a straight face. “My husband lives in Canada and Ahmed and is getting married to his cousin next year.” Oh, snap!
It’s all very complicated, especially for someone who hasn’t ever experienced it before. Why? I’m not sure. It’s not like I didn’t have the opportunity. I just never felt comfortable with it, like most of my unmarried friends. How, then, do we train ourselves to be comfortable with it in just a few months? Perhaps we will get lucky and fall in love before it’s too late. Perhaps we will find someone so good looking that it would be hard to resist, rather than the other way around. Or perhaps we won’t really care once we’ve already gone through it. Ugh! A few one-night stands or bad relationships would have really helped. Too bad I was born with the conscience my mother gave me.
It was the month of May and Farzeen’s visa was finally here. After two grueling years of waiting, she was now able to move to Canada and begin her life with her husband. She had wanted this for so long, but not anymore. After meeting Ahmed last year, her world had changed. She had fallen in love. She had known, for the first time in her life what it was to know a man stripped down and uncensored. There were no secrets between them. They had spent more time together than any two people in her world. Now, it was time to go back. Once in Canada, Farzeen could keep herself busy during the day - finding a job wouldn’t be hard for a grade-A student like herself. It was the nights she was worried about. How would she respond to the touch of a man she hardly knew? Farzeen convinced herself that it was like eating. Sometimes you eat because you’re hungry, sometimes you eat whatever is cooked at home to survive and sometimes you eat outside.
Zara C. Churri lives in Lahore
Fear is the byproduct of shame. Think about it. Would we ever be scared to do anything if it weren’t for the shame we might experience afterwards? What if we fail? How will our parents react? How will society view us? And for the lucky ones who don’t care about any of these things, how will we face ourselves in the mirror after, or if...? Now, I know all of this sounds rather abstract and random at best, but hear me out. Shame makes us do really stupid things, even when we’re aware of our stupidity. For example, I never go out straight after work because I’m scared that someone might see me in my rundown condition and that would make me feel super ashamed about my appearance. I also don’t eat burgers in the presence of cute boys, in case something gets ‘smushed’ on my face (it’s not a word, but I really don’t know how else to describe this) or stuck in my teeth. I would rather choke to death than burp in the company of acquaintances and the like, and I would never work out at Sukh Chan in the same gear I wear to Gymkhana on my days off.
A few one-night stands or bad relationships would have helped. Too bad I was born with the conscience my mother gave me
But that’s just the beginning of it. The fear-shame complex acts as a governing body in this city of lights and heroin addicts. It’s the crux of our values. Now, I can’t believe I’m about to admit this, because I know it’s totally ridiculous, but I am scared of the shame I will feel on my next birthday. I’m going deeper and deeper into my late twenties and I’m not married. Which means I’m going to have to marry the first person who fits 50 per cent of my criteria. Which means I’m going to have to lay with a man I don’t know. Oh, about this. Is it consensual if you’ve been forced into it not by someone else (per se), but by your own values and fears, or by shame? I’m really not sure.
***
Very rarely do we come across two people who seem like they belong together. They smile with their eyes, they remain almost constantly flushed in the face, they are courteous to each other, and they wear their commitment on their faces. Sure, they have problems, but their union seems effortless rather than contrived. I came across one such couple last December. Farzeen and Ahmed went to university together, along with my very good friend, Sanam. I met them during Sanam’s wedding and immediately knew that they were going out. Farzeen was kind and simple - the kind of girl who has never owned a designer bag and would probably never care for one - and Ahmed was well-mannered and intelligent - the kind of guy who gets fourteen A’s in his O-levels. They always travelled together and sat together and joked together. They paired up in all the dances and always seemed to be making plans to hang out later. To me, it was the simplest and most beautiful relationship I had ever witnessed. So, I approached Farzeen one day, hoping for a romantic story of pure non-material love. “How did you and Ahmed meet?” I asked her. “You guys are the cutest couple I have ever seen!”
“Oh, we’re not a couple,” Farzeen replied with a straight face. “My husband lives in Canada and Ahmed and is getting married to his cousin next year.” Oh, snap!
***
It’s all very complicated, especially for someone who hasn’t ever experienced it before. Why? I’m not sure. It’s not like I didn’t have the opportunity. I just never felt comfortable with it, like most of my unmarried friends. How, then, do we train ourselves to be comfortable with it in just a few months? Perhaps we will get lucky and fall in love before it’s too late. Perhaps we will find someone so good looking that it would be hard to resist, rather than the other way around. Or perhaps we won’t really care once we’ve already gone through it. Ugh! A few one-night stands or bad relationships would have really helped. Too bad I was born with the conscience my mother gave me.
***
It was the month of May and Farzeen’s visa was finally here. After two grueling years of waiting, she was now able to move to Canada and begin her life with her husband. She had wanted this for so long, but not anymore. After meeting Ahmed last year, her world had changed. She had fallen in love. She had known, for the first time in her life what it was to know a man stripped down and uncensored. There were no secrets between them. They had spent more time together than any two people in her world. Now, it was time to go back. Once in Canada, Farzeen could keep herself busy during the day - finding a job wouldn’t be hard for a grade-A student like herself. It was the nights she was worried about. How would she respond to the touch of a man she hardly knew? Farzeen convinced herself that it was like eating. Sometimes you eat because you’re hungry, sometimes you eat whatever is cooked at home to survive and sometimes you eat outside.
Zara C. Churri lives in Lahore