Between Love, Haya and Choice

 

Right Person, Wrong Time?

A reflection on the latest episode of Dar-e-Nijaat

“Right person, wrong time.”

We love this sentence because it gives us hope without forcing us to confront reality.

It allows us to believe that perhaps the person was right, the love was real, and only circumstances were wrong. Maybe someday the timing will change. Maybe someday they will come back. Maybe someday they will choose us.

But what if “right person, wrong time” is simply a lie we tell ourselves because the truth is harder to accept?

Maybe timing is compatibility.

Because if someone cannot choose you right now, when you need to be chosen, are they really the right person?

We often fall in love and then build an entire future around the possibility of one day.

One day they will see my worth.
One day they will take a stand for me.
One day their family will understand.
One day everything will be alright.

But sometimes that one day never comes.

And when you are not chosen, you are questioned.

“Wo larki dekho, aise karti hai. Tum kyun nahi karti?”
“Uske kapray dekho, apne kapray dekho. Tum decent kapray nahi pehenti.”
“Tum toh apne doston se bohat free hoti ho.”

Suddenly, it is not about why he didn't choose you.

It is about what is wrong with you.

Your clothes.
Your friendships.
Your laughter.
Your personality.
Your freedom.

You are compared with another woman as if somewhere between the two of you lies the perfect recipe for becoming worthy of a man's choice.

But if you spent years loving a woman, knowing her, laughing with her, understanding her, seeing exactly who she was ..

why did you wait until marriage to decide she wasn't the woman you wanted?

And this is where the question becomes bigger than love.

What have we made of religion?

We tell women to have haya. We tell them to observe parda. We tell them to maintain boundaries. And perhaps modesty is beautiful when it is a choice rooted in faith. But why does a woman's modesty so often become a certificate of her worth in the eyes of men?

A man can sit with women.
Laugh with them.
Talk to them.
Enjoy their company.
Admire a woman who is intelligent, outspoken, funny and socially confident.

But when it comes to marriage, suddenly he wants “ek baparda aurat, jis ke tasawur mein bhi mard na aya ho.”

How convenient.

And this is where another contradiction becomes difficult to ignore.

While watching this episode, I couldn't help thinking about how many of us sit in circles with men who speak passionately about women's empowerment, how women's education, careers, independence, and participation in society should be encouraged, especially in this modern era.

And yet, when it comes to their own lives, they would rather their women never sit in the same circles they themselves comfortably occupy.

So what exactly changes when the woman becomes their woman?

Is it trust?
Is it insecurity?
Is it the fear that the freedom they enjoy themselves might become dangerous when given to the woman they love?

Or is it simply that some men enjoy the company of socially confident women, but do not want the same freedom for the woman they call their own?

Why is the freedom admirable in another woman but threatening in your own?

That is the hypocrisy I find difficult to understand.

We talk about women's empowerment.

Be educated.
Build a career.
Be financially independent.
Have opinions.
Know your worth.
Speak your mind.

And then, when it is time for marriage ...

Not too outspoken.
Not too social.
Not too friendly.
Not too modern.
Not too comfortable around men.
Not too much yourself.

We want her educated, but not intimidating.
Independent, but still obedient.
Confident, but not too confident.
Social, but not too friendly.
Beautiful, but modest.
Strong, but only when her strength does not challenge us.

We teach women to know their worth, and then teach them that being chosen by a man is proof of it.

Falling in love is easy.
Keeping love is the actual task.
Because love is a feeling.

Choosing is a responsibility.

And if someone spends years loving you but cannot choose you when it matters, perhaps the question isn't whether the timing was wrong.

Perhaps the timing simply revealed the truth. Maybe the right person is not the person who loves you when it is easy. Maybe the right person is the one who can stand beside you when loving you becomes difficult.

And perhaps the most uncomfortable part of Zamil and Zaryab's story is not simply that he didn't choose her.

It is that he made her question herself before choosing someone else. And that brings me back to Huquq-ul-Ibad.

We are so concerned with Huquq Allah, yet how often do we stop to think about what we have done to the people who trusted us?

The promises we made.
The hope we gave.
The years we took.
The dignity we damaged.

What good is parda if there is no haya in how we treat another person's heart?

Maybe the real question is not “right person, wrong time.”

Maybe it is:

What kind of human beings are we becoming when we can hurt someone deeply and still convince ourselves that we have done nothing wrong?

Because sometimes, the real failure is not in love.

It is in Huquq-ul-Ibad.