It’s finally happening.
You were both at a shaddi and you were wearing your replica of Deepika’s outfit in the climax of Om Shanti Om, and he was dressed in that sherwaani that could only look better on Zayn Malik.
The dulhan was entering, and you took it to throw rose petals and laugh, throwing your head back in a way you thought was bollywood-esque but in reality, looked like you had epilepsy.
Hey, if he wasn’t looking, the creepy cameraman was pointing the camera in your direction, so might as well make it in the background of the video in all your red lipstick glory.
You nonchalantly glance around to “look for your brother”, and out of the corner of your eye, notice a captivated glare. A wave of excitement overcomes you are you mentally plan your shaddi cake topper: a gold-spray painted samosa.
But wait! Bae isn’t looking, but what appears to be a large plum is.
HIS MOM IS LOOKING! AH! AH! AH! You make your way over for a hug and exchange of “Salam, where’s your mom?/You look so sweet!/Let me see your mehndi!”, then make a point to bring her a glass of lemonade. Heck, you even offer to the aunty next to her who once told your mom to “give you some dieting”. You’re succumbing to gender roles and have lost your self respect wow wow wow...Or are you being respectful and dutiful? Wow wow wow this is hard.
But you don’t care anymore. You hate wearing makeup, but winged your eyeliner in hopes of seeing him. You love to be social, but keep staring at your lock screen at dawats (tsk tsk). You care about your bangs not flopping properly or a hijab pin sticking out of the side of your head. You’ve practiced your “Salam, brother” in the mirror twenty times. Your grades are dropping. You’re jealous of people who get to breathe the same air as him. You want to make rotis for him. You want to call his dad “Papa”. YOU ARE TRIPPIN, GAL.
Clearly, crushes debilitate us. After all, they’re called “crushes” for a reason.
And you guys are probably thinking I had a break up or something (who da heck u think i am), but I don’t believe in premarital relationships. And besides the obvious fact that physically being in a relationship isn’t permitted in islam, there are soOoooo0o0000O many reasons why it’s not my scene. And clearly, this article applies to both guys and girls, but it’s written from a female point of view because MISANDRY!!!
Even islamically, liking people is normal. Feelings are normal. Dressing up so you feel confident is normal. Here’s what’s not: obsessively checking your reflection in your phone, mentally reciting Bollywood dialogue to him during Algebra, and looking like a disheveled raccoon because your eyeliner just won’t straighten out.
For some reason, crushes and love (or whatever) are seen as taboo topics in muslim/desi households. These are issues we encounter on a daily basis and must learn to confront, question, and eventually, quiesce. So today, I’m going to slap these issues and the face and demand a rematch. BRANG IT, BUDDIE BOY.
Because at the end of the day, they are, alas, a waste of time (especially if you’re 13). Here’s why.
They control you.
When you like someone, you begin to modify your exterior and opinions to match their expectations. If he likes Beyonce, you go bask in the sun and practice your falsetto in the shower. If he likes loud girls, you make cacophonous whale noises during class. If he likes chubby girls, you got the Shalimar buffet up in ‘yo belly.
2. Their presence restricts you.
When he’s around, you can’t be yourself. You become so conflicted and consumed with how flimsy your chin looks when you smile, you can’t seem to have fun. You can’t make the jokes you want to.You hold back your lovely snorts mid laughter. Do not tie yourself down, sister paaji. You own that runway, you W E R K.
3. It’s a waste of time.
I guess it’s cool if you want to get married to him, but that might not work if you’re fifteen or if he still wears crocs.
4. It’s too much work.
It’s hard being a potato. It’s even harder caring what a carrot thinks. Especially a peasantry carrot. *insert hair flip emoji*
5. It’s a distraction.
People eventually die. GPA is forever. #TeamDoctorEngineerLawyer #TeamParentsPaisa #AintNoWifey
The minute you address more importance to someone than yourself, you’re losing. Be selfish: learn, create, discover and live. There is so much you don’t know. Every minute you spend over this person is a minute you weren’t working on benefitting yourself.
But at the end of day, we’re all human. I’m not suggesting that we all become automaton misanthropes. I’m simply saying that we should limit ourselves to what we do/how we do it because it all really is in da lawd’s hands.
So if you’re going to marry a gulab jamun, it’s pre determined, no matter how many rasgullahs, laddos, or jalebis you text, it’s prodigal. I know how hard it is to accept a gulab jamun when you’ve tried a laddo, but you have to comply with da plan and trust that everything happens for a reason.
Because who knows?
It might just turn out that your gulab jamun is warm and served with vanilla ice cream.