Muslim girl meets Hindu boy. How our forbidden love blossomed in Canada
I met the man of my
parents' dreams when I was a 20-year-old sophomore in university. Young and naive, I
thought love meant meeting someone who my family would least resist; someone
they'd "approve" of and proudly talk about with their relatives back
home in Pakistan. My ideal partner would
be a Sunni Muslim, in the upper-middle to rich socio-economic class,
fair-skinned and from a "respectable" family. Deep down I knew
checklist man was not right for me.
I kept this checklist
in the back of my mind. It's not something I ever questioned. I just knew deviating
from these desirable traits would not sit well with my loved ones. But deep down I knew
checklist man was not right for me — no matter how much my family tried to
convince me otherwise. He wanted to put the
expectations of his parents above everything else and follow the life path they
had laid out for him. I, on the other hand, wanted to explore all that life
could offer, make my own decisions and see where life would lead. After two years of
dating the perfect checklist man, our relationship came to an end.
The epitome of
taboo: Drastic differences in
mentality and outlook are very often brushed aside in South-Asian cultures to
maintain the peace and make sure children get married to the most socially and
economically suited spouse. In Canada, I could
quietly end a relationship that, from the outside, looked like a match made in
heaven. I could go against culturally ingrained expectations and not be
punished for it. But my bravery was put
to the test when I met and fell in love with Sai. Sai is a Hindu-Indian
who, from a Muslim-Pakistani perspective, is the epitome of taboo. Political
and religious strifes in both those countries had made us "the other"
in each other's cultures.
Historically, Indians
and Pakistanis have been one people, but geopolitical differences in the
last 70 years have bred hatred and animosity for one another that a
major segment of the population continues to uphold. Back in our countries,
Sai and I would have legitimately feared for our lives and our safety if our
families and communities didn't accept the relationship. Sai is a Hindu-Indian
who, from a Muslim-Pakistani perspective, is the epitome of taboo. In India, interfaith
marriage is on
the rise but far from the acceptable norm. In Pakistan, honour reigns
supreme (even in film!) and
major life decisions are made just to avoid bringing shame to a family. In both
countries, there are still stories of couples like us being shunned or
even murdered by
their own families for marrying outside the acceptable norms. Some couples have
even turned to India's "Love
Commandos" in desperate times to ensure their safety. But in Canada, we
didn't feel afraid. We didn't need to
sneak around. We could love and explore each other freely and openly and
not be ashamed for wanting to be with the person with whom we shared a cosmic
connection.
To me, it never
mattered that Sai wasn't a Muslim, or that he was dark-skinned or wasn't going
to be a doctor. What mattered was that he loved me and respected me for who I
was, and he respected himself and saw that life was too short to live according
to someone else's expectations. We both saw eye-to-eye
and were ready to weather the storm that lay ahead. As was to be expected,
neither of our families were initially pleased with our union. My parents would
belittle Sai at any opportunity they got. We eventually cut contact when things
got really bad — an estrangement that lasted over a year.
Sai's parents were
also less than welcoming towards me, but because they lived in India and had
little control over what Sai did in Canada, their power over him and his decisions
were limited.
We had to fight with
our families to be with one another and to show them compassion and
understanding when all they had for us were sarcastic remarks and empty
threats.
A battle worth
fighting: Today, after more than
six years, Sai and I have managed to bring our families together and show them
that our partner's religion or skin-colour really does not matter. It has been a tough
road to walk, but the reward has been worth it. Canada, and the
relative freedom it offers immigrant communities, has played a huge role in
allowing me to see that I didn't have to be who I was expected to be. This
country has given me the space to make my own choices and take control of
my life in every way imaginable — particularly in love.
The life I live today
would have been unfathomable to my younger self — living, without being
married, with a man from a background that goes against everything my family,
religion and culture taught me. It has been a tough
road to walk, but the reward has been worth it. Some mornings as I
kiss Sai while he's leaving for work, I'll be struck with the realization that
I am fortunate enough to share my life with the man of my dreams, to have him
come home to me and to be able to build a future together with him. I am, in every sense
of the word, truly blessed.
