Fragmented Alliences.

Over the weekend my mother and I made progress. I approached her on Friday afternoon and said to her in a surrendering manner that I disliked that she and I had not been able to talk quietly, by ourselves, over the last two weeks. I told her the truth that it was never my intention to leave the family cold hearted, or bereft of any bonds.

She was clear with me- which I appreciated- that if I left home to stay with that man I should not talk to her about my life with him or make any attempt to bring any contact with him and the family. When I asked her if I could still visit home and call them, she said she'd never stop me.

It made my life feel so much better to know, that alright, fine, I knew where the boundaries were... but I also knew what I could do, as well as could not.

Since then my mother and I have been much closer, much more at ease and comfortable with each other. We're able to talk, laugh and sit together because- let's admit it- I feel I can.

My father, however, was a different story. On Sunday night I approached him as the family were sat together in the lounge. I began awkwardly, not knowing how to begin the conversation. How does one begin the conversation for "what should I know before I leave in three weeks" conversation?

Dad continues to perplex me. He agrees with what mum has said, but at the same time continues to jump left and right with vague demands and warnings. I still can't figure out what it is he wants- although my boyfriend has already said he'll meet with my father once a date and place has been arranged- just as my father asked.

It seems the problem comes with the fact that my dad desperately wants for me to be happy- but is searching for a way to make everyone happy with my boyfriend's presence. The only plausible way (ideally) would be for my boyfriend to convert to Islam, but, having said that, both parents have been on the record for saying they wouldn't accept his conversion as a legitimate one since they know a faith is (supposed to be) an integral part of someone's life. If one isn't born in to it, one can not be a true member of a certain faith.

Which leaves us where?

Dad has already said that regardless... there is a part of him that wants to know, wants to be a part of my life wherever I go. But my mother's stubbornness in this instance to abide by her religious laws than her heart leaves him in a potentially dangerous place with his wife.

I'm afraid I'm still afraid of what is going to happen when my father and boyfriend meet.

Even dad doesn't know how he's going to react.

...... We'll just have to wait and see.

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Positioning.

I spent the weekend with my boyfriend again.

Our time together was fine, although the process I went through before I got on the train on Saturday morning was mentally gruelling.

My father found me in the sitting room and sat me down just as I stood up to catch the bus. He made me sit down and talked at me about how he feels about this. I've been listening to these things all my life, and the fact his tone may have been more desperate, angrier, roused this time around made no difference to the fact that I had heard it all before.

I don't say this with any disdain and certainly not with any indifference. I hear what my father has to say, and I see what my mother does when she is around me now. Even my brother... I'll talk about him later.

When I think back to everything my family have said to me... I feel the guilt they want me to feel; I feel the unease; the fear; the uncertainty.

But all at the same time I think to myself- .... Is that worth it?

Are family and tradition worth giving up on myself?

What am I worth?

To sum it up in five words... I'm worth a unique future.

Yes, agreed, that’s clever wordplay- it implies a lot of things. An education, a career, a home, a family... you'd think my parents support these things. And actually, they do. They completely support me in these things. But my "unique future" also implies something my parents aren't willing to give me. The choice to love whomever, however.

The issue of love does not stand alone in the Bengali culture. It comes hand in hand with duty, obligation, loyalty, purity and even success. But love- for the sake of loving... all that translates in to is sex.

It is meaningless almost- superficial and empty. It's the excuse people use to be promiscuous, to be... immoral.

One way for the Bengali culture to avoid immorality is to create arranged marriages where both parties understand their obligations to each other. Love, consequently, comes as an after-thought. An evolutionary state of mind.

.... The concept of love before marriage- actual sentiment beyond the sexual, developing before marriage.... is therefore alien. At least, in my biased observations.

But I'll tell you one thing now. The idea of the perfect, intact, untainted marriage existing in any family... is a myth. Even my family- who feign such a peacock-tail of prestige and heritage- have their fair share of illegitimacies, incongruous histories and secrets. Its not my intention to use these things as justification for my own actions. If anything, these things are looked upon simply as a reality- but a history I'd like to avoid making the central cause in my own life.

Why waste that much energy trying to build a status that will hide a past- that is lived in with a fear of being exposed, than spend my energy on being comfortable with myself and living my life, happily exposing all of my potential instead??

My father has been saying to me that he had always hoped I would never have been the one to "be the example". That he had never thought his own daughter would be the one who set the example of a family who raised their child the best they could, and she left the faith as well as the culture and went off with a White man.

The reflexive reaction is to think, "yes, but isn't that a good thing?" but I'm not prone to relying on reflexes like that. What my father means is the example of failure. Failure on the parents part, and the gloomy failure of the daughter who left home for a White man- no very encouraging is it? What he means is that I'd be the epitome of disgust- of what to spit on.

I've lived my whole life under the dark cloud of failure. Anyone who looks beyond the horizon will only see dark skies. Why bother looking to achieve something that has never been done before? You could be great at doing what you know works- the traditional family, the traditional day job. Why try to expand beyond your needs?

Its an almost paralysing feeling- and I say 'almost' because I felt it strongly for many years, but today, even when it lingers as a faint echo in my mind or heart, I push beyond it.

Come on. If I don't believe in myself, who on Earth will?

* * *

When I got home from the weekend away, my brother went to pick me up from the station. I had been expecting an icy reception, but whilst he voiced his feelings in a very candid, calm manner, he also had his own agendas running (namely a new stereo system he wanted to buy). However, it was clear to me he was unhappy and quite upset at me. Later in the evening, his friend came over. I had asked if I could download a song quickly from his computer which has broadband connection. Whilst I was sitting in the chair (which he had said was ok) he wanted me to watch a short comedy clip he had downloaded.

I didn't want to- and half way through I tried to close the program down. Then he slapped me.

It was a shock- he continued laughing with his friend at the video clip which they found hilarious. I... as I normally do with any kind of an assault- I belayed all emotional responses. I finally said to him in Bengali a couple of minutes later, as discretely as I could, "why did you slap me?"

He replied, "because you never do what you're told- and if you can do whatever you want, then so can I."

Even though I felt quite violated, I did not feel humiliated. I also feel as though I have no reaction to throw at him that would bring any sort of immediate justice to the situation, either.

The slap had been light and fast, but well placed. I resented it more for the fact he had chosen to do it in front of his friend.

I've since thought about what he did over and over again. We're quite physical siblings anyway- we're always play fighting, but his slap had been completely different to that. He rarely shows anger but I've put the slap down to a slip of his true feelings towards me. He obviously respects me less for he sees my actions towards the family as disrespectful.

I wouldn't say I deserved what I got, but in the context of my brother's mind, I probably did.

He didn't seem to notice what he had done, nor feel any of the emotional drama it could have raised. Perhaps this is mostly down to my own withdrawal of my own feelings through my natural tendency to not over react to things that hurt or surprise me. This morning he asked me if I wanted a lift to work. He was up early looking at stereo systems online.

Whatever the consequences... I know where I stand. And it certainly isn't away from my goals.

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Request.

Last night I finally had the conversation with my family that has been bugging me for days.... weeks, months... even years.

I've felt uncomfortable over the few days in particular as the silence that grew between my parents and I turned into a compliant acceptance of each other's company. Parents and child, in any given room, during any given day, and even though they understood they had not answered any questions, it seemed to me as though my parents were willing to keep the silence going, if it meant that they could keep going without having to deal with the hassle of a incongruous family member.

And ironically... I was waiting for them to make the first move, no matter how else I had justified it before.

So perhaps, then, it was my way of kicking things back into action- the restlessness of my impatient soul that listened to and agreed with vehemently that I should take this weekend to see my boyfriend again.

I had taken the liberty of going to see my boyfriend and some other friends a couple of weekends ago, which had turned into a sleep over. The shock of the unpredictable with the horrific realisation that their daughter was now a complete and utter rogue left my parents in the silence that I have been describing above.

And I can certainly understand their point of view.

Here was their eldest daughter, someone they knew to be very capable of whatever she put her mind to... and now it seemed she was out to both ruin herself and drag her family down with her- and maybe she wasn't really as smart as she seemed.

Maybe all that was wrong with her was that she was in love. With everything they had taught- told her was wrong.

All their daughter has to do now is talk... move... do something, and she has the potential to bring their world crashing down around their ears.

My parents are terrified of me, and yet bitterly angered by me. The prospect of myself adding a line of tainted offspring- children that were neither Muslim or Bengali, grandchildren that stemmed from my parents heritage, is like staring into a future of torment. How could they have let this happen? How could they possible have done this?

And they've blamed me for hating them. They've accused me even, for creating the very serious doubt in their mind that I was even their daughter to begin with.

But, the surrender... the loss.... of their power, and their control over my actions is what leaves them so winded. To realise that love.... their love for me, my love for him is what started any of this.

They can't shun what they love. But they can't accept my love for something Other.

In the short term, my parents agreed to lose. I had told them I was going to leave in a few weeks time- with the intention of working and living in the city. They told me I should not expect agreement or disagreement over any actions I make- they admitted helplessness. But they warned me of the consequences they will have to suffer in their society.

The fact I continued to say 'work' as my reason for moving away and not him upset them. Did I not realise, they asked, that if I had wanted to make a life for myself, wanted to educate, work and live for myself that they would have supported me? The only reason my actions hurt them is because I chose to deviate away from Islam, from their culture.

My mother is stubborn but not stupid. She says how British culture is- boils its intents down to a sentence- my intents... but says it with spite.

My father is strong but not satisfied. He finally negotiated his way through the conversation and asked me if my boyfriend would be willing to meet him.

I didn't know.

I asked him what his intention was. The obvious, to me, seemed to find a way to convert him into a Muslim, as this was the only way my father at least could deem the relationship clean. I asked him, what if he says no? What if religion isn't what you get?

My father replied that at least he should have the chance to know who I've paired myself up with. "Ask him" my father said, "if he is willing to meet me."

I blinked.

......... Fair enough.

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