Living With My Husband’s Second Wife Made Me a Happier Woman
A man should have two wives: one to love and one to sew on his buttons — Gabriel García Márquez
Birds of a feather flock together
I grew up in the patriarchal, fanatic land of Islam — Pakistan. The number of male members I saw since childhood were limited as I was raised in an environment surrounded by women.
My father had two wives. My mother, his first wife, blessed him with four girls, while his second wife could not bear any children. We called wife number 2 Choti Ammi (little mother) and respected her like we did our own mother.
In Pakistan, it is normal for a son to live with his parents until adulthood and beyond. The wives lived with their in-laws and met their every need, while the son had little to do with child-rearing or household care. My father came home only to eat and sleep.
We were altogether six women in the house. The daughters submitted to the hierarchy of women — the mother-in-law, my father’s mother being on the top. However, the men in the house, whether younger or older, had to be obeyed.
Whether the men in the family came downstairs for dinner or not, the women and children had to dine together on the gigantic table partaking in the four-course meal. The males determined if the women of the house would go out or if they studied further after marriage. I had seen both my mother and grandmother bow down to this tradition.
The women engaged in the preparation of the meal and the daughters of the house for their future husbands. Like sheep that stick together to their shepherd, the four of us stuck together to our shepherds — the three women who doted on us and provided us with unified decisions.
As the four girls grew up and neared puberty, they drilled into our heads that the display of skin and the male touch was evil, and that we were reserved for our future husbands.
I was curious and practical. I innocently asked my grandma why my father could have two wives, while I had to make do with only one man throughout. She digressed by making blasphemous expressions and reverently bowing my head down in prayer, but my unanswered questions remained.
Even though four of us girls did not come out of the womb of my father’s second wife or his mother, they treated the herd of cows equally. We were given the same fodder and the same training to survive.
How our normal household became a polygamous one
In my grandmother’s, or my mother’s time, polygamy was quite common in Pakistan. But no one ever thought that I would allow my husband to take another woman as his wife.
I married my college crush in a haste, more to make all the other women colleagues jealous. He was handsome and a heartthrob. He was always a flirt, but I thought that marriage would tie him up to me. I was wrong.
Studies show that jealousy is more likely to be evoked in females if they feel that their partner may leave them for another woman. After three years and two little children, Ishaan announced to me that Saskia, a common friend was pregnant with his child.
I was scared to lose him. The crazy lover in me agreed for Ishaan to get married a second time. The emotional woman in me did not want Saskia to raise Ishaan’s illegitimate child alone.
So at a time when polygamy was looked done upon in ‘modern’ Pakistan, I brought another bride home for my husband. I set up their first night and even made a timetable for Ishaan to spend equal time with both his wives.
When we did this, the modest neighbors started looking down upon us. They could not swallow the ease at which the three of us blended together and tried to poison me.
Somehow, I liked the attention our average family suddenly got. I have always enjoyed something considered taboo in society. This attribute I inherited from my mother, who dared to run off with her lover despite the odds.
Instead of trying to create a rift between us who entered into this lifestyle of our own will, I wished people removed other conservative aspects of Islam that truly worried women.
While women secretly showed skin in some of the posh neighborhoods of Pakistan, people still matter-of-factly exclaimed that they remain covered. Even though alcohol was consumed behind closed doors, it was still ‘haram’ or blasphemous.
While all religions made derogatory remarks on women sometimes, all others dared to change. Islam meanwhile is still stuck where it was and proud of keeping a woman in a man’s fist.
As my man brought another rival home, I saw myself slowly loosening his grip. I made all the important decisions, and even Ishaan began to follow them. I finally had the guts to love myself before others. Saskia became Ishaan’s lover and I the wife who would sew on his buttons.
From a lamb to a lion
And one day she discovered that she was fierce and strong, and full of fire, and that not even she could hold herself back because her passion grew brighter than her fears.” — Mark Anthony
Women were in charge of us four sisters not only at home but also at school. I went to an all-girls catholic school where nuns dominated us. Every morning straight after assembly they peeped into our skirts to see if all little girls wore underwear. At that time, many poor, Muslim parents did not make their little girls wear panties under their clothes.
This embarrassing act of standing in a line just to be stripped by authoritative women down to my panties early morning, made me feel like a live mannequin.
When Saskia came home, for the first I saw that mannequin transform into a confident woman. Being the first wife and the mother to Ishaan’s children made me the maker of all decisions of the family. I saw myself become as powerful as my grandmother. Ishaan’s mother had deteriorated in health and was also dependant on me for her care.
From a doormat, I was raised to a guide, a thinker, a balancer of circumstances. More importantly, I became the woman Ishaan no longer wanted to suppress but looked up to. Did I long for this authority?
Being raised in a household where women were just reduced to modestly covered cattle, trained to start the reproduction process as soon as they had a man, I longed for this authority.
But was remaining the wise, saintly wife easy? While I loved the new attention I was getting from the whole family, I missed being the only love. Sure, I did feel jealous and I learned to cover this feeling by discreetly cheating on my husband.
Saskia suffered a miscarriage. Having no responsibilities of her own made her available to Ishaan for all the exciting things in life. I sometimes fume and treat her unfairly and she still succumbs, for fear of losing Ishaan. First wife or the second, both of us lacked a sense of security which should be present in a relationship.
At the moment, Ishaan really tries to keep both his wives at the same stature. In the Quran, a man may get married to more than one wife only if he fathered an orphan and agreed to treat both his women equally. Ishaan was being a father to his own illegitimate child, and the liberal wife in me allowed that.
In the An-Nisa’: 2–3 “Render unto the orphans their possessions, and do not substitute bad things (of your own) for the good things (that belong to them), and do not consume their possessions together with your own: this, verily, is a great crime. And if you have reason to fear that you might not act equitably towards orphans, then marry from among (other) women such as are lawful to you — (even) two, or three, or four: but if you have reason to fear that you might not be able to treat them with equal fairness, then (only) one.”
I should have been mad when Saskia did not bear a child. After all, the very reason I entered into polygamy was to give a stable roof to Ishaan’s kin. But exposure to the many women in life made me empathize with Saskia when things went wrong.
Proximity to women had given me enough insights into their traits. I knew how to belittle them to make myself feel better when lousy. And I also knew how to comfort them when they felt as miserable as I was. The latter was my strength and the former was something that I developed due to the supreme stature Saskia bestowed on me.
Be the woman who fixes another woman’s crown
We constantly worked to keep Ishann’s wishes above ours. The sight of an unappetizing dish on the dining table made him walk away without saying a word. If the kids made too much of a raucous after a long day at work, Ishaan would lock himself in the room and go to sleep.
At such times when our husband considered his selfish interests above ours, Saskia was by my side. She helped me put the kids to bed. She helped me prepare a meal alternative when it had to be done. She helped me change his mother’s diapers when I was too tired to turn her over to the side.
But there were challenges. I considered Saskia my rival when I heard them having the most pleasurable sex. But being the mature woman in the house I had to not let this affect me. Allah helped me enjoy this moment and remain sane.
He inculcated in me a natural lust to watch my husband fuck this sexy, fresh, slender figure. I loved to watch her reduce Ishaan to a dog in heat. I could never have him go down on me as he did on Saskia, and I loved to watch him submit to her commands.
Today Saskia’s and Ishaan’s sex life does not disturb me. I peep through the dots in the ancient door and enjoy the show. I have a secret lover to satisfy my physical wants. Saskia is now my best friend and even covers up for me when I am with him.
When a woman feels like a lamb surrounded by a wolf pack trying to decide what to do with her, she must do something to stand up for her rights. The struggles of the women I saw in my life proved to me that nothing would change unless I changed it.
I could not openly retaliate at the moment. My children were small and dependant on their father financially. But I knew that everyone, including my kids and husband, will exploit my time and energy until I was left with none.
My body and my beauty would eventually betray me. Thus, I had to enjoy and fulfill my desires while there was still time. And so I did. Nothing gave me as much happiness as meeting my lover and dancing with him at the dance lesson. Nothing gave Saskia as much happiness being a mother to my children — a privilege she lacked.
It’s not always sex. Sometimes it is just a casual conversation that a woman needs to have with her lover. Neither Saskia nor I could share a part of our day with Ishaan. We had no idea what his day at work was like. He was just the provider of sex and security and could never be a friend.
I try to change one thing at a time. I try to transfer my wisdom to Saskia and advise her as a loving sister would.
Saskia has now become the God-sent angel I needed. Her presence in my life made me realize what I lacked and gave me the guts to work towards it. The importance she bestowed on me provided me the confidence to take harsh steps I should have taken years ago.
Thanks to her, today I appreciate the women who have helped me be myself by facing the storm in their own way. Their life lessons coupled with Saskia’s presence helped me love myself, and thereby love others.
The women whom I love and admire for their strength and grace did not get that way because shit worked out. They got that way because shit went wrong, and they handled it. They handled it in a thousand different ways on a thousand different days, but they handled it. Those women are my superheroes. — Elizabeth Gilbert
