SPOILED MILK?: Pakistan's Marriage Conspiracy

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that Pakistani mothers--as well as aunts, cousins, grandmothers, fathers, uncles, sisters, brothers, dentists, neighbors, friends and/or neighbors' parents, friends and/or neighbors' grandparents, extended relatives of friends and/or neighbors, drug store cashiers, bank tellers, great-aunts, cabbies, great-uncles--who have (or know of anyone else's) single offspring (especially female offspring) must be in want of getting them married.
It's a compulsion that strikes all Pakistani adults that are older and already settled into the state of matrimony. It's the only thing they, particularly the mothers, can talk about after their single children hit a certain age. And, trust me, it's a compulsion that will strike your parent before you can say "ristha-walee" (Urdu for matchmaker). You'll be caught off guard. One minute you'll be discussing the weather or your suspicions that the milk has soured a day sooner than the stamp on the carton promises and the next minute your mother will be bemoaning the fact that you wasted the great match-making opportunity that was college by doing everything but pursuing suitable matches. Your reaction will be one of shock. You might stand there, milk carton in hand, frozen. What has happened to your sweet, smart, sensible mother? She's not like other Pakistani parents. She doesn't care that you're 24, 25, 26, hell 30 and unmarried. She loves you for you. She's proud of the person you're becoming, not waiting impatiently to pick out the generic Pakistani doctor/engineer she wants you to marry.
You WILL think to yourself: where's my mother and how can I get her back, dammit?
Once Pakistani moms settle into their new rishta-walle roles (oh, and the settling in process isn't so much a process. It's like coming home for them; I swear, Pakistanis must have a genetic predisposition "to marry"), things become very, very interesting--equal parts amusing and frustrating. A single Pakistani offspring will notice that news of recent engagements are increasingly interrupting otherwise pleasant conversations. Our mothers have a way of sprinkling them throughout the conversation, much in the same way they season meals; your mouth doesn't start burning from the red peppers until after you've swallowed a mouthful of the saalan and, by that time, it's already too late. Listening to who's engaged to whom is a lot like listening to someone read aloud those obnoxious engagement announcements in newspapers: Fatima Chaudhry, daughter of Dr. Ahmad and Mrs. Haleema Chaudhry was recently engaged to Ali Mohammad, son of Dr. Omar and Mrs. Zakeena Mohammad. Fatima and Ali are both pursuing their MDs in Grenada. It was a (scandal, scandal!) love match, but at least these kids made it happen, unlike my children who will most certainly turn their noses on arranged marriages but are too busy to find mates on their own. Look at Fatima, who, in spite of being as plain as they come, sure did show us that she is "fast" in matters of the heart.
Once your state of singledom has been compromised at home, you become especially aware of surrounding dangers, especially female relatives and friends of your mother. You will find yourself to be the only single woman of 26 at parties thrown by friends of your parents and, in your increasing state of paranoia, will swear, SWEAR that this was all planned ahead of time around the kitchen tables where married moms sit closely hunched over their cupfuls of chai, discussing the best strategy to discomfort you into marriage. But you don't let it bother you. So what if these married-with-children girls happen to be your age? They only seem to be able to engage in discussions about (insert dry laugh here) their BABIES and their HUSBANDS. Stick a hot poker in my eye if I ever reach a point in my life where those are the only conversation topics I can engage in. Please. To these girls, you're probably nothing more than what my friend's mother told her all single women of a certain age are: expired milk. But, dammit, at least you know how to be a personable conversationalist who can talk to EVERYONE about EVERYTHING.
So, you decide that perhaps you can engage in stimulating, mature conversation with your mother and her mature friends. But how could you forget, poor, silly, expired milk?! They are the masterminds behind this campaign to see you hitched and before you can smile at them, they start with their: when will we be receiving invitations to your wedding?; you really should start thinking about settling down because you're not getting any younger; I've heard of a website that you and your parents should check out; when we get married is already written in the stars, but that doesn't mean that we sit back and wait for things to fall in our laps; and, of course, the inevitable, my brother-in-law's wife's cousin's best friend has a son who would be PERFECT for you!
So you manage to pull yourself away from these matrimonial mavens and, limping and injured, drag yourself to the one group that will, not only take you in, but will most probably look up to you in wonder and awe: the girls in their pre- and early teens. You're so hip and cool, you MUST be close to their age, right? And yet, they know that you're no longer in school...but why aren't you married then? Why not? Because you're a glamorous fox who's juggling a fabulous publishing career in Manhattan and--oh, you're so busy, having meetings at Moby's place (who's that? oh, that doesn't matter...kids these days! insert throaty laugh here), and working with Cosmopolitan and Glamour and Elle. Oh, you have no time to marry, darling.
And, then, on the way home, as your mother gives you the latest engagement news, the realization that you spent an entire evening hanging out with people more than a decade younger than you simply because you're single and not ready to settle at the moment, hits you like a foul odor and all you can do is become sullen and bitter and frown. You've reverted into a teenager, helpless and directionless. Congrats to the older married people because they've gotten exactly what they've wanted; because now that you feel pathetic enough about yourself, you're primed to meet a gaggle of men your parents (or friends of their friends) have deemed marriage-worthy for you.
And so it begins.
OY.