SG

So between all the death and illness I have been seeing lately, I have come to realize that there is a lot to be grateful for and that life can be seemingly trivial at times.

I was looking at wedding cakes when I got the news that someone I considered a friend and had worked closely with for two years had passed away. She had been in coma for two weeks prior and I really believed she would recover.

Her death also made me realize that I have many gifts and that I should say thank you everyday for them.

On the other side of the fence however I was still been bombarded with questions by what I am going to call the SG. The Serial Gossipers.

My poor grandmother is lying on a ventilator in the hospital, and being my only remaining grandparent I am not feeling too comfortable with it.

On the same day that my Gran was admitted to the hospital, her sister who had been very ill also passed away and we couldn’t tell her because she was struggling to breathe as it is.

There was so much drama ensuing that you would think people would be subdued right?

Wrong!

While sitting at the hospital in the waiting area, we were asked:
Where is the venue?
What are you serving?
What are the colours?
Who is the cook?
Who is the planner?

And so on and on and on.

It’s actually a little disturbing that the SG have such empty lives that this is all that they know how to do.

You try and cut them off and they keep probing.

I have never been under so much scrutiny in my life!

My Fiancé and I took his parents to the hospital to visit my Gran and one of the members of the SG, watched me like a hawk. Actually; more like a creepy reptile would, at the point where it is about to attack you and paralyze you with some poisonous substance and make your death slow and painful.

It was like: “Come on little girl, do something wrong so I can pounce on you”.

Of course me being me, decided that it was best to just be myself, red pointy boots and tight skinny jeans included.

I do not do pretence so I am sure the SG are feeding off the flesh of my actions and words for the next few weeks.

What I cannot understand is why people are so blinded to the fact that life is so trivial.

One day you could be laughing and discussing veils with a friend, and the next you gone from the planet.

Is it really worth talking about others and being invasive and worrying about what they say or do or they way they act?

I know that every day that passes from now on, I will look at what is good and ensure that I enjoy the next 5 months I have left with my family planning my wedding. Because some people will never have the chance

The Blast from the Past

So ironically I had to go to a funeral this past weekend.

It was my mum’s uncle that passed away and had been ill for a while. I don’t like funerals, they very sad occasions and I always hate the reminder of my own mortality,

Just so you know, I was on point with the ridiculous banter and gossip that goes on. I am guilty of some of it; I will admit….sorry…… but I am a woman after all and some things are just too juicy to miss. Like hearing how a very infamous gossip monger is getting her own back.

Karma is such a beautiful thing.

Anyway, after the funeral they usually serve lunch. So while eating my curry and rice, I had this purdah (veil worn over the face) lady hovering near me.

Before I continue, I would like to point out that the veil worn by some Muslim woman is not really an Islamic thing. It is actually something that stemmed from other cultures.

For a really informative read check out: http://www.islamfortoday.com/niqaab.htm

So Purdah girl is hovering and I am starting to get suspicious. I mean it’s not fair that she can see my face and I can’t see hers? What is she doing here?

Finally my question is answered. She says: “Do you remember me?”

I am thinking, um, how am I suppose to? I can’t see you face stupid!

But I just said: “No, I don’t….who are you?”

And she pulls up the veil and reveals her name.

I regressed back to 7 years old in 10 seconds.

It was my childhood tormentor! This girl was responsible for most of the childhood bullying that went on when I lived in there.

Lucky I remembered I was 27, and calmly said, “I have a vague recollection”. I had to throw in the high English, as to establish myself as the smarter one in this encounter.

This chick hounded me for like half an hour, trying to dredge up every memory of my childhood there. She kept saying, but you finished primary school here. And I kept reminding her it was 15 years ago. In fact if you look at it, you only really remember your life from about 5 years old. So I only have 7 years of memories there…….

What she didn’t expect when unveiling herself was my wit, fast tongue and don’t care attitude.

When she said: “I got married at 22”, like its some kind of major achievement, I was like: “Oh, I just finished studying then and moved to Cape Town”. You must know Muslim girls do not live alone. So this is like saying you worship Satan!

Then she says, “We have 4 kids already”, also like this is some major achievement and I am like: “ I am not sure I like kids”

Anyway, needless to say I made it clear that I was miles ahead of her in the “Experiencing life category”. But inside, I was still scared, I mean, her little group use to be so mean to me.

Looking at it now, I think I threatened them. Even when I was engrossed in my community, I was never like them. I was always a little odd. Different, with a mindset of my own.

I was dreamer. In fact my parents got called to my school in grade 3 because my teacher said I spent too much time day dreaming. They never knew one day I would dream up stuff that would inspire others.

I am very modest hey? LOL.

This reminds me that my grade 7 English Teacher told me I couldn’t write. What a Putz.

This encounter with the blast from the past made me realize something, I was lucky.

My parents took me away from that close minded environment and put me in a field where I could take root and really grow until my branches touched the sky.

I never belonged there. I never belonged anywhere. I was a loner, a dreamer and someone that cannot conform to anything.

Just a hint, you will hear about Purdah girl again, her husband and my Fiancé are first cousins. Irony at its finest!

As she said: “We will see each other at every family function”

Joy. Joy. Joy.

My "Family Boy"

I am marrying a “Family Boy”

I love this term, it makes me laugh.

You see back in India there is a little village, and guess what? My man and I can both be traced back to that exact village.

In fact, we are actually kind of related on my Dad’s Mother’s side of the family.

It makes me feel weird when I think about it, because he is like a distant cousin or something, but then I realize that all Muslims are related because they have been doing these weird business transactions for eons.

You know what I mean? The whole, I marry your daughter to my son because its good for business.

Thankfully society has evolved somewhat since then, and majority of people marry for love. Like my parents. Who still love each other very much till today.

When I met my Fiancé, I had no idea that he was a “Family Boy”. I just looked at him and thought, hmmm, nice lips. And those eyes, oh my word!

It wasn’t all lust, he was also nice to talk to and easy to get along with, even if he did lie and tell me that he likes sushi when he so doesn’t!

On our first date I just knew I was going to marry him. It’s one of those things that you cannot explain to anyone. You just know, and for the first time in my life I had no doubts that this was it.

I am not saying that he is perfect or our relationship is perfect, it’s just a case of I am willing to go through the tough times with him.

But maybe luck was on my side because he was also the type of guy that I should have been marrying anyway.

When we found out with this weird relationship between our families that spans many decades, we laughed.

It was highly ironic. Me. The girl that so far removed from conforming to any ideal had in fact done something that people wanted me to do anyway.

This pissed the Gossip Mongers off further. Because I was never “Marriage Material”, so how did I get so lucky?

And all I have to say is: “Get over yourself!”

I would marry this man even if he was a Chinese pheasant who couldn’t even grow a good crop of rice.

Because, who his family is does not define who he is.

We both have values and beliefs that are our own. And we are connected by these values and beliefs.

The lead up to the Engagement

The reason that I had to mention Ring Choosing Day and what it meant to me is because the next few weeks were really tough.

The planning of the engagement had commenced.

I gave my mum the freedom to do as she pleases. Because I trust mum and I know that she has great taste.

However it seems that everyone wanted to be involved suddenly and I let it be. I mean, I don’t mind that people want to get involved.

It was just that I so use to it being just me and my mum. Whenever there was any event at our house, we did it together.

It was overwhelming how excited everyone was about me getting engaged.

All this made me realize that no matter how I felt about things, or how I viewed life, or even what I stood for.

To the community I came from this was the biggest moment of my life, and they all wanted to be apart of it.

It’s strange but everyone wants a piece of the excitement.

I also know that I upset certain individuals. I mean how dare I ruin their favourite piece of gossip????

You see, I was 27 years old. And in Indian terms I was no longer even on the shelf. I was in the expiry bin!

And to add to it, I travel around the country with men! Alone!

I even stayed on my own for a while.

In other words, I was not the good muslim girl that decent boys marry.

And here I go and marry a guy from a good family. Who is also oh so handsome (Well to me anyway)

This was definitely a case of them getting egg on their face.

The sad truth was that I couldn’t even enjoy this tiny victory. The reason being that I just found it all so sad.

I don’t even find myself that interesting! And here I was the new topic of conversation and suddenly everyone wanted to know all the details of how we met etc

And here I was wondering how a simple conversation one Sunday night could cause so much to happen.

I suddenly understand why some people elope