“Hareem..” my friend says from the other end of the call at 3 am. “I think my husband and I are about to part ways. He has been posting the most malicious things about me on his social media ever since I moved out.”
I am at a loss for words. Their relationship lasted six years, only to turn into marriage, which was about three years.
“You’re not getting any younger.” Of course not, I realise. The numbing agency over my future is a herald to my supposed expiry date as a woman. I exist more as an itch to the corner of society’s eye. Every wedding is a stark reminder of my own unmarried life.
I, a 26-year-old, a producer who has worked for an e-paper as a sub editor, an associate producer for a two-time Oscar winning filmmaker, continues to wallow in pity because I am somehow still incomplete from attaining that one primary purpose I was supposed to have fulfilled by now. Marriage.
It is really not that I haven’t tried. I have. But like most things, marriage is a two-person commitment and there can only be some sort of agreement that binds the two. You cannot sail this ship solo. Am I even in such a hurry, myself? Would I be married on my own if I did not have the pressure I was enduring? Maybe. If I found the right person. But I know I would have taken my time with it. Making sure he ticked all boxes: Is thoughtful and a good conversationalist, doesn’t look down upon Aurat March, keeps his privilege in check, doesn’t idealise Jordan Peterson, believes in democracy, believes religion is a personal matter, does not gaslight, is emotionally intelligent etc.
“Why don’t you try your luck on one of those apps they have been advertising?” asked my mother one day. I remember looking up to her face in utter shock. Wait, what? Then I recalled seeing an ad for Muzz, an app that connects people for “marriage”. Now, with the licence to online dating, sanctioned by none other than my own mother, I try my luck.
The very next day I go to work, and ask a friend to help me set up my Bumble account. I really thought that was going to help. Or did I? The app asked me what I was looking for. In a heartbeat I tapped on, “Don’t know yet.” “Relationship” is one of the options, mind you. After setting up my profile, I put it aside. In the meantime, my phone exploded with superswipes. Do men swipe right on literally anyone? As for me, absolutely not. I would take my time, scan the entire profile, see if he can be located on any social media app, whether I have mutuals with him, if his profile is verified, and then usually, swipe left. My friend had to sneakily swipe right on a few so I could have at least one match. Turns out, whoever I swiped right on, had already swiped right, and I matched with every single one of them. The chronicles of that dating life opened me to a world of men who were eager to take me out on a date, get to know me, they found me pretty. And guilty as charged, I lived for that validation. I was the one swiping left here, ghosting them, getting bored, and moving on to the next good conversationalist. It was unlike real life! I barely met anyone I connected with on Bumble though. Maybe two people? Out of which one turned out to be someone completely different from the photos, a scary ordeal altogether, and another one, who showed up at my workplace in Karachi one night I had a late sitting, when I was under the impression that he was in Lahore for business. Other times, I found men who told me they would accompany me to my next shoot in rural Punjab, without actually caring to ask me whether my boss even allowed that, others who were a more modern personification of “Kal say tum jeans nahi pehno gi”, and several who were on Bumble looking for friendships. Not casual hookups, but friendships. I never understood how that works, but I learned to respect that. Whatever makes them happy.
What really shakes my belief in marriage is literally people who are in unhappy marriages themselves, but continue to pester unmarried girls with, “you’re getting married next” at every wedding, every birthday party, every funeral. Interestingly, it is because of their husbands’ and Facebook’s algorithm, that porn has started to show up on my watch page. Before I have the chance to ponder over why a certain video showed up on my timeline, my eyes always land on a familiar name. Ah, of course.
However, it is the divorce rate among my circle of friends that worries me the most. A balanced ratio of love and arranged, so many of these marriages have been between couples I have looked up to. Only to later find that marriage crumble, and the sparks that flew between them, turn into flames that burnt the entire house down.
Some, that have not yet been so lucky, are stuck in marriages that are abusive, physically and emotionally. All because so many of the women in these marriages have emotionally been manipulated into upholding the relationship solo.
While I do agree divorce is stigmatised more than it can afford, since for many, it serves as a backdoor exit from relationships that have nothing good to offer. It is also safer to make that exit by studying the other party just enough for their toxic patterns earlier on, rather than heavily investing in a marriage, because that can hurt you financially and emotionally. Especially because desi parents have been saving up for the day, all their lives.
Pakistan’s obsession with weddings is often confused with marriage. While all that is planned for a certain day in a person’s life, hardly any of what will follow is briefed. How to manage your expenses, household chores, how to bring up children and when is it time for you to have children without worrying, how to respect boundaries etc. None of this is really discussed.
“You can get to know the guy in person before you marry him,” my mother reassures me.
“We can arrange a few meetings before you say yes.”
Can a few meetings suffice for someone who thinks arranged marriage is nothing but a scam threaded together by patriarchy? What do you even find out in a few meetings?
“Can those few meetings be once every week? Over a course of 365 days?” ‘Uh....Now that... may not be possible..”
Whatever. “Okay.” I say. “Find someone who is easy on the eyes if not extremely handsome, doesn’t oppose to my job which includes late night sittings, my dressing style, the strength or weakness of my faith, and agrees to meeting me at least five times before I say yes.”
The search has continued till today, a year later. Nonetheless, what’s keeping me from marriage, is not what I am looking for in a partner. It also has to primarily do with me. Am I financially independent enough to live on my own should the situation call for it? Do I have enough savings? Am I ready to share my space? Commit to another human being. Live with how organised or disorganised he is. Live with the occasional arguments and disagreements, and sleep in the same bed at night? How free do I feel today, as an unmarried woman, and just how much freedom am I compromising on if I step into a life-long commitment. Can I be vulnerable about my
ugliest sides with this person? Have people who already lived their lives with me accepted those sides yet to garner me that confidence?
It is a widely held misconception that marriage empowers women. As for what I have seen in a number of cases, it has stripped off any agency women would otherwise have had. Specifically when it comes to child birth. It is a pyramid of ascension. You’ve achieved marriage! Congratulations! Now it’s time to have a baby. Preferably within a year. You had your first child! Congratulations! It is now time for a second round!
Where does it end?
Hareem Fatima is a is a freelance writer. All information and facts provided are the sole responsibility of the writer.