Save the English Bride

-June 1st, 2020, New Jersey

I am done. Completely demoralized. I can feel my willpower slowly waning. I don’t remember the last time I was happy.

-July 5th, 2020, Sylhet, Bangladesh

I know I haven’t written in this for some time, but then again, it’s not like I regularly write here anyway. But since I don’t know what is to come I figured that someone may find this little black notebook that seems to be the only ear willing to listen to my thoughts and pass it on to let someone know what I went through to try to save Luvana.

For about a year I would wake up every morning and sulk in bed for a half hour. I was miserable. My father passed away from cancer years ago and although I felt I had moved on from his passing, it seemed like his untimely death affected me in more ways than I thought. At 29, I was out of work for several months. I had no money. My marriage was in shambles. Mentally, I was depressed. I felt alone. I felt like I had no one. I felt numb. The pandemic only made things worse.

And then fate stepped in. As cliché as it sounds, I believe in fate. Some people would call it God’s plan and I guess I’m one of those people. I guess this was God’s plan.

One early Friday morning in June, I received a phone call from my cousin, Rayhana, in London. She sounded very frantic as she began to cry and tell me about her younger sister, Luvana. I couldn’t believe my ears as she told me that her parents decided to force their daughter into marriage in Bangladesh.

I guess I should provide some context here. I am the American-born son of Bengali immigrants. The US and the UK have the two largest populations of Bengalis outside of Bangladesh. While today the American-Bengali community has largely moved on from such archaic practices like forced marriages, this was still a problem in some Bengali families in the UK. You’d imagine my surprise and embarrassment when I heard that this was still going on within my own family.

She told me that they had already left England and the only reason why she was able to get out of going to the wedding was the fact that she was pregnant with her first child.

“You have to help her. I don’t want her life ruined like they did to me. She’s only 19”, she said.

“What do you want me to do?”, I replied.

“I need you to bribe the groom into delaying things for a few days. That will give the UK Embassy enough time to rescue her.”

Apparently, these forced marriages have become such a common thing now that the UK Embassy in Dhaka is always on high alert to rescue young unwilling women from such fates. There are actually ads in the airport that help direct such women on how to reach out to the embassy in case anyone falls victim.

Here’s the messed-up part. Parents will lie to their daughters claiming that they’re going to vacation in Bangladesh for a few weeks. These young women trust their parents enough to believe what they say, only to be duped and forced on the spot to agree to a marriage once they reach the country.

“How much are you planning to bribe him with?”, I exclaimed.

“$10,000.”

“Are you crazy? $10,000 is complete overkill. I’m pretty sure for $10,000 this guy would walk away from the marriage altogether”, I retorted.

“I tried. He’s not willing to do anything less and he’s only willing to delay the wedding for two days.”

I stayed quiet for a few seconds. This was all very shocking to me. I was still trying to process everything.

“Okay, I’ll do it. When do I have to leave?”, I quietly responded.

“You’re going to have to leave no later than tomorrow evening. I’ll book the ticket and wire the money to you so it should be in your account within a few hours”.

That afternoon I went to the bank to withdraw the cash and noticed that Rayhana sent me $20,000. I messaged her immediately letting her know that she sent me way too much money.

“The other $10,000 is your fee”.

“My fee? No way I’m doing this for money. You’re my cousin. Something like this is a given for me”, I said.

“I’m not taking it back so don’t bother sending it back to me”, she said.

“Okay, we’ll settle this when I get back”

The next day, I called my wife to let her know what was going on in my life. We were still married but living in separate apartments for the past two months. We both agreed that the space could possibly help our marriage. She sounded very concerned on the phone and urged me not to get involved. I told her that I have nothing better to do with my time and that it might do me some good to help someone out in trouble, not to mention, this was my cousin who I was helping out. In the back of my mind, I knew that there was some semblance of fate that brought me to where I was. I felt like I had a purpose, and this was my mission.

After a 14-hour flight to Abu Dhabi and more connecting flights, I finally arrived at Sylhet Osmani International Airport in the City of Sylhet. The Sylhet region is the area of Bangladesh that my family hails from and is well-known for its marvelous tea gardens. Its main city, also known as Sylhet, is a center of commercial activity.

A second cousin of mine from the paternal side of my family, Badrul, picked me up from the airport. Badrul was born and bred in Bangladesh, but had the pleasure of going to college in the US. He returned to Bangladesh to open up several garment factories with his father.

He knew why I was there. Badrul was willing to offer me support during my time there. It definitely put me at ease knowing that I had someone who knew the local area that I could rely on. The last time I came to visit the country, I was 10 years old. The greenery looked so beautiful just as I remembered from my childhood visit.

After an hour’s drive outside of the airport, we arrived at the gate of the groom’s village and my cousin sent in his assistant, Jahangir, to retrieve the groom. The young man, Afzal, who couldn’t be that much older than my cousin Luvana, climbed into our SUV and spoke in Sylheti, a language similar to Bengali that was widely spoken by people in the Sylhet region.

“I will only say this. Two days is all I’m willing to delay this for. If you can’t convince her side to cancel within two days, I’m marrying her and still keeping this money”.

When Afzal opened the briefcase, he counted $18,000.

“That’s an extra $8,000 to delay this as long as you can to let us get the embassy on notice”, I replied in Sylheti.

Afzal looked perplexed and had a slight grin.

“Three days. No more. And you have to leave the money with me.”

Normally, when negotiating, I never give in to such stupid terms, but this time, I knew I wasn’t getting my way here. I had to “trust” this fool. And so I did.

Badrul and I had a plan to get to the village where Luvana was staying that night and initiate the rescue plan immediately to bring her back to the UK Embassy in Dhaka.

We decided the best way to rescue her was by creating a diversion. We went to the local police station and bribed the officers with $1,000. These local policemen are used to taking bribes and we just made their year by offering them this hefty sum of money. We requested that they send numerous officers and place Luvana’s father under “false” arrest long enough for Badrul and I to grab her and take her back to the SUV. Jahangir would be waiting in the car.

We wore uniforms to help disguise us as well as face masks. The fact that COVID was in full effect didn’t make us look suspicious at all.

At around 9:30pm we charged into the village with the police captain announcing on the megaphone that we were looking for Luvana’s father. The villagers came out and in the middle of escalating arguments, Badrul and I went from house to house looking for Luvana.

On the fifth house adjacent to a local pond, we found Luvana peering out the windows looking at us with intense fear. I took my mask off and I will never forget the look of joy on her face when she realized it was me.

“We need to get the hell out of here. Rayhana sent us. Let’s go. You don’t need to bring anything.”, I said.

We scurried through the forest trees behind the village for several minutes before we found Badrul’s SUV. The three of us jumped in and sped off.

After driving about a mile outside the village gates, we started hearing sirens. We realized that the police were now coming after us. Yes, that’s right. Luvana’s dad outbid our bribe.

There was no way we would be able to make it back to Dhaka, a four to five-hour drive from where we were that night. Our only hope was getting to the UK Embassy’s substation in the City of Sylhet which was an hour away.

After being chased by the police, we were about 10 minutes away from the outskirts of the city. Then out of nowhere we were ambushed at an intersection. They had their guns drawn. I yelled out, “We are British and American citizens! Do not shoot!”. I was hoping that our foreign status would protect us from a hail of bullets as the police knew well enough not to touch foreigners.

Badrul, Jahangir, Luvana, and I slowly stepped out with our hands up. Luvana was grabbed by a cop, and the three of us were handcuffed. The last thing I remember after that was the look of fear on Badrul’s face just before they pistol whipped him and then me.

July 6th, 2020, Dhaka, Bangladesh

I do not know where Luvana is at the moment. Badrul, Jahangir, and myself are in some sort of federal police prison. It seems as though we were transported from another holding cell in Sylhet after we awoke from unconsciousness. I am not sure whether or not the UK Embassy intervened in the last day or so. I am not even sure if my own embassy knows my whereabouts. I was continually updating Rayhana through text about the progress of our rescue party. I didn’t have my phone on me anymore and neither did Badrul or Jahangir.

I guess this was fate. I guess this is where it ends. I really thought this would all work out. I thought it was destiny to successfully rescue Luvana. I should’ve thought about the alternative outcomes. I was so wrapped up in having some sort of purpose that I didn’t stop to think that this could possibly fail so miserably.

I hear Luvana’s voice. I may be delirious because I haven’t eaten in two days. Wait a minute, that is REALLY her…