Superstitious Me: Pappu decides to marry for Allah

After years of jacking off and a few broken relationships, Pappu – my close friend, decided to get married for the sake of Allah Subhanahu watallah and to fulfill his deen.

I don’t know exactly when Pappu made that decision, but I would surmise that it perhaps had something to do with his breakup with Samantha Python. Samantha was this vivacious blonde from Smith College – a college that enjoys a legendary reputation amongst the lesbians of Boston.

Not withstanding his thick eye glasses, it was a case of love at first sight for Pappu. He met Samantha at a local café. And then he did something that swept Samantha off her feet – he paid for her coffee. Samantha was not used to this kind of generosity from her boyfriends and therefore in a rather calculating manner, she fell in love with him. Many weeks later, as Pappu, Samantha and I sat down for coffee in that same café, I asked Samantha what was it about Pappu that she liked. “He has this nerdy look about him”, she said with a charming smile. I looked at Pappu – and there he was, squinting behind those glasses that had so much become part and parcel of his personality.

And then one day, Pappu came knocking at my door in the early hours of a Sunday morning. His eyes were deep red, as if he had cried all night. In a hoarse tone he laid it all out – Samantha had left him for another man, a black man. As we would later find out, it was due to Samantha’s fondness for well endowed black men that her circle of friends in Boston had given her the last name “Python”, which she had gigglingly adopted for her social circle.

Pappu decided to communicate to his parents that he was now finally able and ready to fulfill his deen by the way of getting married. In the weeks that followed, he started to receive mailed and emailed pictures of girls from his mother in Lahore. Sometimes when I would be visiting him, he would put those pictures in front of me and ask my opinion. I would show my unbridled and gleeful enthusiasm for pretty much every girl, but it was as if feelings had flown out of Pappu’s astonishingly lean frame. He would look at the pictures with blank eyes, read the girl’s description written by his mother, and then lazily put it aside. The cruel breakup with Samantha was still fresh in my friend’s heart.

In those gloomy days, I would often visit his apartment on weekend afternoons. We would both sit quietly in his living room and let the time roll by reading papers, making chai for each other and even taking naps, while the TV played on. I guess after many years of friendship, its not awkward to meet just to sit together and not necessarily talk. In those hours, while sitting on his couch, I would often stare at Pappu’s childhood family picture hanging on the living room wall. In that years-old picture, an even leaner young Pappu stood in front of his parents, and they all beamed at the camera from behind their glasses.

It was a lazy summer afternoon in a hot July weather, when Pappu opened a letter from his mother. Inside that letter were some pictures. Pappu looked at the pictures, adjusted his glasses, sat up straight and squinted at the pictures closely. I watched his reaction with mix of curiosity and optimism. After a few moments of stunned silence, he passed those pictures on to me. There, sitting on a couch, flanked on either side by her friends, was this doe eyed damsel of immense beauty. But more importantly for Pappu, she was not wearing any eyeglasses…and for Pappu, that was as good as seeing a girl without a bra on. Now all that was left for Pappu was to head to Lahore during December vacations, and use his mother’s persuasion to get her to marry him.

From that day on, Pappu transformed into a restless man. He would call me every day and, much to my chagrin, explain to me in detail dozens of reasons why she would reject him. I could frankly think of a few hundred reasons why she would do so. But as November wore on, Pappu’s nervousness grew until it reached a fevered pitch at Thanksgiving dinner table. It was precisely at that moment when I decided to do something for my friend. That him and I were a bit superstitious, was a well known fact among our friends. Perhaps there was some tangible thing, something symbolic, I could do for him that would give him hope for his prospects.

The evening before Pappu left for Pakistan, I put on my black jacket, gloves, muffler and headed out into the cold December night of Boston. I walked into the neighborhood convenient store. After a few minutes of walking the aisles, I put a few bars of chocolate, two cans of coke, a bag of chips and some other items on the counter of store. Buried under all this stuff was a pack of premium Trojan ribbed condoms. I prayed to God that the cashier would not ask for a price check. I also hoped that no one would stand behind me in the line. Thank goodness, nothing like that happened.

The next day, as I bid farewell to Pappu at the airport, I hugged him for a very long time. It was during that hug that I slipped that pack of condoms in his coat’s pocket. Wasn’t it the great mall builder, George Hyde, who answered his skeptics by saying, “If you build, they shall come”? True that. If you buy condoms, you will eventually get to use them. Eventually.

Many days passed. I had not heard back from Pappu ever since he had left for Pakistan. I did not want to call him for the fear that he might find it embarrassing to tell me over the phone how he was rejected by her.

December 29th was one of the coldest nights in Boston that year. I had just entered my apartment when the phone ring. It was Pappu! In a rather excited voice he told me that she and her family had agreed to marriage and that the nikah ceremony was planned for later that week. It was as if bliss of relief descended on me. In an emotionally choked voice I congratulated him and told him that even though I would not be at his Nikah personally, I would be there in spirits. I could almost feel Pappu taking off his glasses, and wiping away a tear.

The very next night, I put on my black jacket, gloves, muffler and headed out into the cold December night of Boston. I walked into the neighborhood convenient store. After a few minutes of walking the aisles, I put a few bars of chocolate, two cans of coke, a bag of chips and some other items on the counter of store. Buried under all this stuff was a pack of premium Trojan ribbed condoms.

That pack is for me for my next trip to Pakistan.