As tonight is my last night in Bangi before I leave for England, it is inevitable that the relatives come round to say goodbye, and again it is inevitable that I get asked the million dollar question.
“Bila nak kahwin?”
To which I give my standard, but not too far from the truth answer – “Entah. Malas nak fikir.”
It doesn’t help that my sister is currently seeing a new beau and making sure that everyone on both sides of Sungai Langat knows about it. The fact that I have, in the past, been involved, and chose not to disclose the matter to anyone, now seems a very unwise decision – I am now made to be seen as inadequate.
In all honestness, I really do not have the space nor the time to think about settling down. I have a PhD on my hands which I need to complete, and despite getting an ‘Excellent’ on my annual review, I know best where I am in my work and how many extra hours I am going to have to put in, beginning Tuesday.
Add to that the Malaysian Society stuff, my committee members who are still on holiday, and the intricacies of handling matters among the members of the Malaysian community, and I have a full plate in front of me. I won’t even have time to miss my family and friends, it seems, except for those lonely hours late at night when I will finally be left alone with my thoughts.
I’ve heard all the stories. The hukum. The sunnah. The words of Allah in the Quran. So you can spare me the details. They all point to the fact that man and woman are made for each other, and that one is considered incomplete until enjoined in holy matrimony. I acknowledge, I believe and I adhere. Do I have intentions to be wed? Of course. Just not now.
I am not in a long term relationship at the moment, so how on earth am I supposed to get married? What, grab the next available single man walking down the street? I don’t think so.
For one thing, I have to be sure of his agama. I have to be sure he is able to lead me and our family, and it is not me who is awake at half past six every morning forcing him to wake up for Subuh prayers. Ideally, it would be him to wake me up in time for Subuh prayers at our local mosque.
I am long past believing in love. Only once has my heart felt the pitter patter of nervousness and anticipation that young lovers feel, and the boy (man) who managed to make that happen is now happily married with kids. I am more willing to settle down with someone with whom I share good companionship and friendship, and pray that in the days we forge ahead as man and wife, the feelings of love will blossom. It may not be the fast and furious type of love, but the slow and steady kind, often more intense.
My uncle thinks I am pricing myself out of the market by getting a doctorate. Yes, he who does not want his daughter, who has a diploma, to continue her studies towards a degree, for the same reason, I suspect. Not a new story. Everyone, spare the few that I trust my life with, believes that I went on to do a Masters and now a PhD for career advancement – that I want to put a career ahead of married life. Totally untrue, but nobody stops to ask. The Masters, I had to do, because it came with the job. The PhD – a completely different story. Either you know it or you don’t.
I ask my male friends, are my uncle’s thoughts echoed by the majority of men? “No“, they say. “We all want well-educated wives.” Well, they forgot to add a little bit of information at the end. “Just not you.“