The Girl Who Came Home”*

 

Today’s Session

This is a long story. The protagonist of this tale crossed the "Irish Sea" to come and meet me—to see for herself what kind of "crazy doctor" I was. She wanted to see if the person who gave such "mad" advice actually looked the part.

I have penned these few words from her own perspective. Before we move further into the narrative, we must understand why that girl was thinking this way about me.

The girl was born in a European country. Both her parents are Pakistani, but after the children were born, they only visited Pakistan every two or three years, and even then, only for a month or two. She was educated in that European country and held a high-ranking position in a reputable company.

One day, her father decided to go to Pakistan, announcing that they would stay for three or four months this time. Everyone happily packed their bags and left for Pakistan.

They were all enjoying themselves—touring the country and enjoying the food. During this time, one of her cousins constantly tried to be around her. He followed them everywhere, spoke well, and was good-looking. There were several occasions where the girl’s family (parents and two siblings) wanted to go somewhere without the cousin, but they never refused him.

About a month and a half passed this way. One night around midnight, her parents asked her how she liked the boy.
"Yes, he's fine, but why are you asking?" she replied.
"You speak to him so nicely, that’s why we asked," they said. "Tell us, how would it be if we married you to him?"

The girl was shocked. "Look, I talk to him as a cousin. That doesn't mean I like him or want to marry him. Please don't even think about this."

"Look, we want you to marry him. He will move to [Country Name] with us, live there, and find a job," her parents insisted.
"I don't want to marry him," she stood firm. As the argument escalated, her mother intervened, saying, "We will talk about this later; let’s sleep for now."

Two days later, the same topic was raised. A huge scene erupted, and the matter was dismissed again, but the girl was told clearly: "You will have to marry him."

This went on for a month. Her family kept pressuring her, and she began to crumble under the mental stress. They even threatened her, but she still refused. Eventually, her freedom of movement was restricted.

The girl began falling into depression. She barely ate. Her communication with friends and cousins dwindled until she was just confined to her room. She didn't know who to turn to. One night, she tried to leave the house, but she failed and was physically beaten.

When she felt her mind was about to snap or go numb, she decided to seek help. She asked a friend if there was a psychologist who could lessen this "iron agony." That friend made inquiries, and a doctor I know gave her my number. He explained her condition to me and asked if I could give her an early appointment and cooperate, keeping the Pakistani context in mind.

We set a time. I listened to her story, gave her some advice, and said, "For now, agree to this marriage..."
Before I could even finish my sentence, she cut me off: **"Are you mad?"**
"Are you crazy? I am trying to escape this, and you are telling me to do exactly that? Are you helping me or preparing for my destruction?"

I smiled, took a few sips of my coffee, and said, "If your problem is solved and your mental stress vanishes, your doctor will be the happiest person, right? Because then you’ll tell everyone that this specific doctor solved your issues. And then, you yourself will be happy."

"If your problem isn't solved, I am ready for any punishment," I said in a firm tone.

The girl asked for time. She called her friend, who then called the doctor who had referred her and asked, "Is this doctor crazy? He’s giving this kind of advice—what should we do?"
That doctor laughed and said, "Just do what he says. The problem will be solved."

In the third session, the girl said, "I am agreeing because of you, but if anything goes wrong, you're in trouble..."

I told her: "Listen, you must not mention our conversation to anyone. Express your wish like this: 'Since it's my engagement, I want my best friend from [Country Canada] to attend. I will do the shopping according to my own choice, and the groom's family will buy everything based on my preference. I will continue my job; there will be no restrictions on me. When my husband gets a job, he will give me pocket money. I will visit Pakistan only when I choose. I will live separately with my husband. There won't be many traditional rituals. And yes, I want to get married a year from now, and my wish—which I’ve had from the start—is to have the wedding in [Country Name] and then move there with my husband.'"

She said in surprise, "I never thought of any of this."
"Don't think about it; no one is asking you to actually do it. You just have to act it out realistically. Enjoy all the functions. If the cousin tries to talk, tell him you’ll talk properly only after the wedding."

Everything went according to plan, but a hitch occurred. Her parents and the boy's family insisted that the *Nikah* (marriage contract) be performed along with the engagement. The girl refused and asked for time.
She asked me, "What do I do now?"
I told her, "Tell them, 'What’s the rush for the Nikah? We can even do that over the phone later. I am agreeing to everything you say, so I want my word to be heard as well.'"

After some debate, they agreed. The engagement took place. For a month after the engagement, she remained under stress, tired of hearing "our daughter-in-law" every single day.

A month and two days later, they returned to [European Country]. Then the "in-laws" started calling. She asked me, "What do I do now?"
"If you feel like talking, talk. If not, don't," I replied.

Now, she was sitting in front of me with wonder in her eyes. She said, "You don't look crazy, but your advice was very strange."

I searched on my phone and pulled up a BBC report regarding women murdered in Pakistan over marriage disputes. I said, "Read this report with a cool head, and then I’ll tell you the rest."

Once she finished reading, I told her that in my own district, not long ago, two sisters were murdered by their family and the suitors. There are countless such stories.

I looked into her eyes and asked, "Did you want to become a story like this too? I would have expressed grief over your story like everyone else, written a few lines, shed a few tears, and gone back to my work."

She turned her tear-filled eyes away and said, "No, not at all. You pulled me out of there and brought me here. I still remember those nights when I was beaten. Once, I thought I would be killed that day. Even after your advice, I felt like it would be better if I just died. I can never forget those agonizing nights."

"Now, here is what you do," I told her. "Tell your father clearly. You are a citizen of [European Country], so you know how to handle things from here. They might kick you out of the house. You have a job, you have money; rent a room or a house. Do not be disrespectful to your father, just inform him of your decision."

"Most importantly, when you refuse, lock your bedroom door from the inside that night and every night after. Keep the local police station's number as the first contact on your phone. If you feel any danger, call the emergency number without thinking 'that’s my father outside.' Because in the heat of passion, people forget relationships. A person might regret it later, but they can still take another person's life in that moment."

As she was leaving, she said, "This new life feels beautiful. I apologize, and I don't want to let go of you. I will always keep your number—if not first, then definitely second on my list."