Ayesha at Last

by Uzma Jalaluddin

Because while it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single Muslim man must be in want of a wife, there’s an even greater truth: To his Indian mother, his own inclinations are of secondary importance.

not everyone started from the same place. Some people were always a little ahead. Or in her case, constantly playing catch-up.

Ayesha grew especially close to Nana, who had read to her every night. She joked that she had learned to speak “Shakespearean” English before “Canadian” English.

What do you see when you think of me, A figure cloaked in mystery With eyes downcast and hair covered, An oppressed woman yet to be discovered? Do you see backward nations and swirling sand, Humpbacked camels and the domineering man? Whirling veils and terrorists Or maybe fanatic fundamentalists? Do you see scorn and hatred locked Within my eyes and soul, Or perhaps a profound ignorance of all the world as a whole?

“I don’t want you to be disappointed in love. Men are selfish, Ayesha. They will not put you first. A woman should always have a backup plan, for when things fall apart. You must know how to support yourself when they leave.”

Promise you will always choose laughter over tears. Promise you will choose to live in a comedy instead of a tragedy.”

A woman plays many roles in her life, and she must learn to accept them as they come. Men are not so flexible,” she said, a half smile on her lips. “That’s why it’s important to find someone who complements you, rani. Someone to dream with you.”

So they were looking for a token ethnic. Ayesha was familiar with the role; she had played it often enough. She heard Clara’s scoffing voice in her head: Who cares? It’s a job, and you’ll be good at it. Everyone needs an in, and if yours is hijab and brown skin, go for it!

It would be so easy to dismiss him, with his skullcap and long beard—to put him inside a box labeled “fundy” and ignore the things that didn’t fit that role, like his kindness, his strength, his character, or the way he managed to look sexy in a white robe.

Except I am getting what I wanted, she thought as she unraveled six yards of silk sari and held it up against the wall. I wanted nothing. And in a few short hours, all my dreams will come true.

Sometimes prayers floated up to heaven. Sometimes they hung around here on earth and waited for you.

“I know who you are looking for,” she said quietly, in English. “You’ve been looking for her all your life. When you find her, I hope you will remember my words: Always dream together, raja. Always leave space in your life to grow and soften.”