Compulsions

Millions of Pakistanis live in the United States, having migrated from Pakistan in search of a better life. By “better life,” most people usually mean financial comfort, and in that sense many do succeed. They earn money and achieve stability. However, along with these gains come countless struggles, emotional hardships, and painful sacrifices that often remain unseen.

During my stay at a house in America, I met a Pakistani woman who worked there as a domestic helper. One day, overwhelmed by emotion, she broke down in tears and shared her story with me. She told me how she had come to America with her husband in search of better employment opportunities, hoping to build a secure future for their family.

She stood by her husband through every hardship. Together, they worked tirelessly, saving every possible dollar, until eventually they managed to open a small grocery store. With time, their circumstances improved significantly. Business flourished, and their financial condition stabilized. As the store became successful, she stopped working outside and focused entirely on managing the household. Their children, who were approaching adolescence, were enrolled in good schools, and life finally seemed settled.

Then, without warning, everything collapsed.

Her husband secretly married another woman. Not only did he hide the marriage, but he also divorced her without informing her. She remained completely unaware of what had happened until one day her son came to her and said, “Mom, do you know that Dad has married another woman and divorced you?”

The ground slipped from beneath her feet. She investigated, hoping it was a misunderstanding, but it turned out to be true. When she confronted her husband, he threw her out of the house. She was left homeless, forced to move from one Pakistani household to another, working part-time cooking meals to survive.

When I saw her in my host’s home, she did not look like a maid at all. She was dignified, well-spoken, and graceful. It did not feel right to ask her to do household work, but she had no choice. Her livelihood depended on it, and my heart ached for her condition.

I asked her why she had not sought legal help, since according to American law, she was entitled to half of the shared assets. Tears welled up in her eyes as she replied that her husband had given her no time to approach the authorities. She was now living helplessly with her children in the home of another Pakistani family.

He had not only expelled her but had also refused to keep the children. They were too young to earn, and she was struggling alone to educate them through hard labor. She told me that once her children became independent, she would file a legal case against her husband and claim her rightful share. Her employers were kind people and had assured her full support in pursuing justice. She took care of their two small children while they were at work, and they had promised to help her reclaim her rights.

“Yes, I may get my legal rights back,” she said painfully, “but my husband is gone forever.”

I told her that separation from such a selfish man was better. She had supported him through poverty, yet when prosperity arrived, he turned his back on her. People like that deserved punishment. I advised her to file the case immediately before time weakened her claim.

With a heavy voice, she replied that she would do so. She regretted not keeping a closer watch on her husband. When the store began doing well, an American woman had joined as an employee and worked closely with him. Somewhere along the way, secretly and silently, they married, leaving her completely unaware. Now she was mourning her fate and wondering how she could ever return to her homeland, where shame and humiliation awaited her.

Her sorrow left me shaken. She was helpless, oppressed, and trapped by circumstances. And she was not alone. God knows how many women like her suffer silently under similar compulsions.