RAISINS NOT VIRGINS

CAST OF CHARACTERS
…………………………………….

SAHAR SALAM
An urban professional American-Muslim woman of Bangladeshi extraction, in her late twenties, who is facing a spiritual crisis. She is not a practicing Muslim but is beginning to wonder if not having a discernible faith system is healthy. When we meet her she is also yearning for a family and is entering into a period of internal struggle.

RIZWAN RAHMAN
A handsome, intelligent young attorney, also American-Muslim, who Sahar’s mother encourages her to marry. He is a passionate champion of anyone he considers an underdog.

AMMA
Sahar’s formidable mother. She is a sweet, feisty, woman who has settled for a lackluster marriage. Despite her lively and jovial nature there is a sense of regret and wistfulness that hangs about her. She is determined to see her daughter settled but not at the expense of her happiness.

SCENE
Sahar’s Manhattan apartment, a gallery, and Union Square Park over a period of one year.

TIME
2001-2002

SETTING
The stage is divided into two parts: SAHAR’s living room and the rest of the world. Certain things happen in her apartment, everything else happens outside that realm. Her apartment is appropriately hip and urban with a smattering of South Asian accents, i.e. beaded throw pillows, a random paisley here and there. On the low wooden coffee and side tables are various quirky tchotchkes of a ceramic nature which are pretty ugly. SAHAR is the architect of these odd items. Behind the stage hangs a plain screen onto which images will be projected.

AT RISE
Spotlight on SAHAR who sits or stands in the outside realm.

SAHAR (to audience)
Let me tell you something about martyrdom. I have sacrificed in the name of God. I towed the line for eighteen years. No pork? Fine. No drinking? Fine! No sex until I was married? Not so fine. For me, the worst part was going to the mosque. Every year, at the end of Ramadan, my mother dragged me to this mosque in Quincy Massachusetts. I wasn’t allowed to go the main prayer area because I was a girl. I sat in the back with the other women, my hair covered in a scarf. If my scarf slipped off my head, which it always did, ten women glared at me while my mother looked embarrassed. We would all face East and pray, rising and falling in unison, and then after prayers, we settled down to hear the sermon. Then it began. For an hour straight some self-proclaimed “holy” instrument of God, with no formal religious training, informed us that everything we did was inadequate, that we were not worthy of the religion. For a big finish, he would talk about the Almighty’s ultimate folly. The United States of America. From the age of five until I left for college I was told that I lived among debauched infidels bent on world domination. Apparently these infidels would not rest until all of us had been converted. Every year he prepared a sermon aimed at convincing us that our souls were in mortal danger. I have to admit he had his moments; his “Halloween is satanic” sermon was particularly energetic. He said it was unnatural the way Americans carved up orange squash to look like the devil and then gorged themselves on candy. I didn’t buy into any of it. I was an American, no matter what he told me. None of the rules applied to me. No one was going to wrap me up in black cotton or force me to marry an octogenarian uncle. That happened to other women in other places. So I made a pact with myself. I would ignore Islam, just as it had ignored me. Then, one year ago, it became…personal. It came into my bedroom, into my life and stole from me. My peace of mind, my happiness, my hope. It had intruded and I had to fight back. I never asked anything from God. I never expected him to give me anything. Then He came along. He was real and the craziest thing was that I wanted him. I always went for guys my mom hated and there this one was, larger than life.
AMMA enters

SAHAR
I’m 29 now… anyway, when I met him I was 28.

AMMA
She was 28. The perfect childbearing age. Her ovaries are drying up, turning into shriveled little raisins. They don’t get used, they die. By Bangladeshi marriage standards that’s considered fossil.

SAHAR:
I think my mother was arranging to have my unused uterus and dried up ovaries embalmed and displayed in her living room, as a warning to other women like me. But at this point in my life even I was feeling the urgency.

AMMA
I’ve seen it happen. My niece, Rinky, and the poor girl who always bags groceries for me at the A and P. She is just a big bundle of missed opportunities.

SAHAR
I don’t think of the proverbial biological clock. I keep imagining a stone slab coming slowly down like in Raiders of the Lost Ark, and I have mere seconds and centimetres to grab my hat

AMMA
Girls get crushed under the weight of their unused wombs.

SAHAR
I was down there, on my chest, the stone slab about to come down on me, grinding my bones to dust. Then my mother called.
(Picks up phone.)

AMMA
He’s a Law Student, Fordham, from a good Muslim family, tall, decent complexion, born in Long Island, younger sister just married a shadha chamra, a very white one, but got him to convert, which is mashallah, a great boon. He’s eager to meet you Sahar.

SAHAR
I was not enthused. I asked her if he had all his own teeth because that would be the determining factor for me.

AMMA
I don’t care how many fancy Jewish shoes you own-

SAHAR
Manolo Blahnik isn’t a Jew, mom.

AMMA
–or how fancy your time share in the Hamptons is, you need what everyone ultimately needs.

SAHAR
Botox?

AMMA
Love! It’s very simple. This boy is wonderful. His name is Rizwan. He’ll love you. Trust me. He wants to meet you at any time you want at any place you want.

SAHAR
How about never and in hell?

AMMA
Hell! How can you talk about hell and love in the same sentence? Tobah, tobah, tobah!
(slaps her cheeks 3 times)

If anyone’s going to hell, it’s you! Love is all there is. Love for God, love for your husband.

(Sahar’s father leans over and turns up the volume on the TV. Amma turns around.)

Arrey! What the hell are you doing? Can’t you see I’m talking to your daughter? Turn that down! Sahar? Are you still there?

(Sahar puts phone down. )
Listen to me, listen to your amma.

(Mother’s voice fades as she exits. Screen fades to black.)

SAHAR
I did it. I met him. Of course I did it. What choice did I have? And here I was born into a culture built around free dating services and elaborate wedding rituals. I had to take advantage of it. I was afraid, okay? If someone asked me what I had done with my life, I didn’t want to say, well, I spent twenty years manipulating lonely fat girls with bad skin into buying things that would never make them beautiful. I’m in advertising!

(Lights up on RIZWAN sitting at a table with a drink, waiting for her. SAHAR stands up and faces an imaginary mirror. She begins to primp, readying herself to meet someone. She applies lipstick, adjusts her breasts, and smells her armpits. She walks a few steps closer to the table. AMMA’S voice booms overhead.)

AMMA
Don’t sabotage this. Look at you!

SAHAR
Jesus! He’s cute. Why did he have to be so cute? No, no stop! You always do this to yourself. Let’s get this over with.

(After a moment, she approaches him.)

RIZWAN
Hey. Sahar?

(They stare at each other for a beat or two.)

Do you want to sit down?

SAHAR
This was a mistake. I’m really sorry. Bye!

(Bolts off-stage. RIZWAN stands up slowly. Takes a last gulp of his drink, puts some money down on the table and exits.)

(SAHAR’S apartment later that evening. She has been drinking. Phone rings. It is AMMA. She appears on stage, talking on the phone.)

AMMA
Well? Isn’t he lovely?

SAHAR
Incredibly.

AMMA
Where did he take you? What did you do? I don’t know what you hi-fi modern types do these days.

SAHAR
What did you do on your first date with dad?

AMMA (a beat)
I got married.

SAHAR
I’m sorry I asked.

AMMA
Stop beating around the bush. Tell me!

SAHAR
Ma I’m kind of tired so if we could do this tomorrow…

(Door buzzes.)

AMMA
What was that?

SAHAR
You have amazing hearing.

AMMA
You give birth and you will too.

(Door buzzes again.)

SAHAR
Hold on.

(Goes to the door and presses buzzer. Light fades on AMMA. SAHAR must keep releasing the buzzer to talk to him.)

Yes?
(Light comes up on RIZWAN holding buzzer.)

RIZWAN
Hi, Sahar? It’s Rizwan.

SAHAR
Uh, hello.

RIZWAN
Can we just talk for a minute?

SAHAR
About what?

RIZWAN
Can I just come up for a minute?

SAHAR
I don’t think so.

RIZWAN
How about you come down.

SAHAR
Why?

RIZWAN
Are you always this difficult?

SAHAR
Why would you follow a girl that ran out on you? Don’t you have any self-respect?

RIZWAN
Apparently not.

SAHAR
I don’t know you from Adam.

RIZWAN
You don’t know me as much as you didn’t know me when you came to meet me.

SAHAR
What?

AMMA
Ay! What’re you doing? Let him in. My God!

(A faint buzz can be heard from SAHAR’S phone. Lights up on AMMA)
SAHAR (to RIZWAN)
One second okay?

(Runs to phone)

What, ma?

AMMA
Let him in.

SAHAR
This is my life, Amma!

AMMA
Offer him tea. Show him you can make tea! Don’t cook him anything! I want him alive! No hanky-panky!

(SAHAR hangs up hastily. Lights down on AMMA, who exits. She goes back to the door, and hesitating, buzzes him in.)

SAHAR
Okay, come in.

(RIZWAN comes to the door, which SAHAR has already opened. She ushers him in.)

RIZWAN
Nice place.

SAHAR
Thanks.

RIZWAN
So. How are you?

SAHAR
Fine thanks. Look, it was nothing personal. I was roped into this by my mother – like you were by yours.

RIZWAN
I don’t get roped into things.

SAHAR
Yeah, well, neither do I.

RIZWAN
Ever been on a blind date?

SAHAR
Unfortunately, yes.

RIZWAN
What’s the difference?

SAHAR
My mother wasn’t involved.
RIZWAN
Fair enough. My mother had nothing to do with this. She doesn’t even know.

SAHAR
How did you find out about me?

RIZWAN
The Auntie net. My aunt knows your mother or something. I don’t know.

SAHAR
And you just agreed to meet me?

RIZWAN
Why not? They say the majority of romances are facilitated by friends and family.

SAHAR
You’re looking for romance?

RIZWAN
Aren’t you?

SAHAR
No!

RIZWAN
Sex then?

SAHAR
That I don’t need my mother or your aunt to arrange.

RIZWAN
Why did you bolt?

SAHAR
Maybe I didn’t like the look of you.

RIZWAN
Me? Impossible. I took one of those tests in Cosmo and I am perfect boyfriend material.

(RIZWAN walks around the apartment nonchalantly, picking up items and looking at them.)

SAHAR
Oh really, a Cosmo test said you were perfect?

(She snatches a tchotchke out of his hand and replaces it.)

RIZWAN
Yeah!

SAHAR
Well then, what’re we doing here? Let’s go to Vegas and get married!

RIZWAN
I’m probably asking for trouble but I think we should have a do-over.

SAHAR
Why?

RIZWAN
I’m a closer. I like to see things through.

SAHAR
You just can’t believe someone wouldn’t want you.

RIZWAN
That too. You’re not on any medication are you?

SAHAR
Not yet but give me time.

(RIZWAN sits down.)
Make yourself at home.

RIZWAN
I’m sorry. May I sit down?.

(SAHAR nods reluctantly.)

So do you have any hobbies?

SAHAR
Did Cosmo tell you to open with that line?

RIZWAN
For instance, I played basketball all through high school and college. I should keep it up. I just haven’t had the time.

SAHAR
Great.

RIZWAN
Basketball is a game of stealth, speed, and strategy. Have you ever seen Michael Jordon play? He’s what I would call an artist.

SAHAR ( After a puzzled beat)
Uh, huh. As much I appreciate your turds of wisdom, I’m kind of tired so…

(Gestures that he should leave.)

RIZWAN
Turds? Did you say turds of wisdom? Are you always this abrasive?

SAHAR
I’m just tired.

RIZWAN
Now I get why your mother was so anxious about our meeting.

SAHAR
Excuse me?

RIZWAN
You have what they call a complex.

SAHAR
About what?

RIZWAN
Men, love, relationships, whatever.

SAHAR
You have no right to come to my house and insult me.

(Walks to the door and indicates that he should go through it.)

RIZWAN (getting up)
Then refute me.

SAHAR
No! I don’t have to.

(a beat)

I don’t need help finding a boyfriend. I can do that on my own. You seem healthy and reasonably sane, why do you need your aunt to set you up?

RIZWAN
So that’s what this is about? We all need a little help. People have been meeting like this for centuries. How did your parents meet?

SAHAR
Please, they are not a good example.

RIZWAN
Mine too. Total mismatch!

SAHAR
Really? Then why would you want to do this?

RIZWAN
Do what? It’s dinner, maybe coffee. No one’s picking out china patterns. Right? I get it. I should go. Good luck to you.

(He holds out his hand, she takes it, slightly softening.)

It’s late. I can’t keep up hostile repartee all night. I have to work tomorrow.

SAHAR
You’re a lawyer right?

RIZWAN
Yes.

SAHAR
That’s great.

RIZWAN
It is?

SAHAR
It sounds impressive.

RIZWAN
There are too many lawyers on the planet.

SAHAR
Then why did you become one?

RIZWAN
Would you believe me if I said: to do good.

SAHAR
To do good what?

RIZWAN
Not all lawyers are snakes. Some of us are idealists.

SAHAR
It’s easy to be an idealist when you’re making money. Then again I don’t know what kind of a lawyer you are. You could be a human rights lawyer or something. Are you?

RIZWAN
No. Corporate. But when I am overseeing a hostile takeover, I try to make it less hostile.

SAHAR
Well that’s something.

RIZWAN
Every little bit helps.

SAHAR
Maybe we could get together sometime. You don’t seem that dysfunctional.

RIZWAN
You seem like a gigantic pain in the ass.

SAHAR
Thanks.

RIZWAN
No really. It took guts for me to come up here after you ran like that. You agreed to meet with me, no one held a gun to your head and then you act like I’m a perv or something for wanting to meet you.

SAHAR
I know. I’m sorry. I’m just wary of someone my mother would recommend.

RIZWAN
That’s pretty adolescent.

SAHAR
I was a very pretty adolescent. Ha! That’s a joke.

RIZWAN
Yeah, I got it.

SAHAR
I feel bad now. I’m not usually this ornery.

RIZWAN
Okay, do over. But I’ll call you.

SAHAR
No, I’ll call you.

RIZWAN
Fine.

(Both exit. Cue: Bollywood music.)