Yes. I have the audacity to reclaim my miniscule plot on Blogspot with a post on something as outdated and tiresome as the Great Indian Marriage. Maybe a little throwback, or tribute, to my first post.
What set this off was a conversation I had with a friend of mine this past week. We were navigating through the perilous Road Rash-y post-office hours’ traffic, in the concrete jungle that Chennai is turning out to be.
This friend, let’s call her N, was navigating through the noise and metal, with practiced ease. I don’t have to tell you that scary-good driving skills and thinness are two traits I’m awed by. I remarked how jealous (and proud, but I didn’t say that out loud) I was of her.
She had a job she enjoyed, a purple Charles & Keith bag, over 500 friends on Facebook, the like. She’s the type who gets free freaking-expensive spa coupons, eats at every new hotspot (from Kobe to Momo Mia) and “parties like a rockstar.” Oh, and also a solid education, a sunny disposition, and a usually supportive family.
She rolls her eyes, and takes me by surprise. “I’m going to die alone, anyway. I’ll live with my cats, and then, I’ll, like, DIE. Alone.” Quote, unquote, all hers.
Really, how have we all got the idea that marriage is what puts the OK seal on us? Education-to-Post Graduation-to-Respectable Job-to-Marriage-One car, Two kids. I’m not saying that there is anything wrong with that “Tried & Tested!” formula, but deviating from it makes us incompetent failures?
As is the norm, my religious beliefs make me feel guilty for even typing this. Those who deny marriage are not of the Sunnah, not of Islam. I’m not denying marriage. I just think that Society should shove its crap mores/expectations/pressures up its own ass.
Random house guests should gulp down their chai, eat their kheema samosas and the "foreign-chocolates" their hosts are kind enough to serve, make small talk as random as themselves, discuss the weather/politics and leave, thanks very much. Were they brought up so badly that they think it’s alright to ask why their hosts’ daughter is still unmarried? It’s permissible to ask if they genuinely cared or were close enough, of course. But that condescending tone of voice, just because their 16-year-old is “fixed” (by that I don’t mean splayed, even if the 16-year-old in question looks like a small domestic animal), their 17-year-old has been given away with a big house and car, or their 18-year-old is *blush* “conceived” for the second time?
Even more annoying are the prissy missys (I couldn’t resist that) themselves. These children, born in the nineties, deem themselves mature and experienced enough to offer advice. Somehow, they are glorified, teased and loved by the public; whilst the rest of the world gets labeled sluts if they dared talk to someone they’ve been seeing for five years. Maybe I should be more vocal about how I have access to information and drugs/instruments that kill without a trace.
But. At the end of the day.
We’re the outcasts. We’ve studied something other than half-a-B.A. Lit course; maybe even courses that span over 5 years. We wear skinny jeans (not to give ourselves orgasms, as is oft-speculated). We occasionally swear. We cycle or trek. We dance to dapan-koothu or we hip-hop (or try to, at the very least). We save lives (or check BP, PR, and other edu-pudi work), build buildings (drafts, anyway)/websites, study at Ivy Leagues. We’re blessed with an amazing group of intelligent, funny and annoying friends. We might be lucky enough to have understanding families, who stick up for us.
Some of us, may even have that “special somebody.” Corny, but true. For reasons that cannot be explained easily, or for the reasons best undisclosed, it might not be possible to marry them just yet. I’m not degrading the sanctity of marriage. I’ve seen too many happily married people (as opposed to the Smug-Marrieds, a la Bridget Jones)… Marriage has made them blossom; they are still kick-ass and non-judgmental, and their husbands are guys who know they’re lucky. And they get the “When will you make us grandparents?” torture, so we’ll excuse them.
After dealing with the brutal albeit over-dramatic circumstances Life has thrown my way, after years of depressing do-or-die decisions… I’m warning you that it just isn’t compelling enough to throw away everything, and rush into an incompatible marriage, in a tired attempt to fit in or keep family happy. Those fitting-in issues, sister, you should’ve worked them out by eleventh standard, maximum.
I’m not a hypocrite. I keep website-surfing for engagement rings myself; citrine diamonds and emerald, rose-cut, princess-cut, square cut… from Bvlgari to Jaipur Gems. Do not accuse me of dropping hints.
It would be different to have a Dr and an Mrs in front of my name. Weird, but nice. You know how “Mrs.” is usually vomit-inducing and reminiscent of Bree van der Kamp? Turns out it isn’t, when you actually find the Dr/Mr. you’re meant to be with.
When it happens, it happens. And “it’ll be good.” And until then, Life will happen. Why change or meddle when the going is uncharacteristically good? Settling down, fantastic; settling for, not so much...
And for the otherwise engaged. Forcing and putting pressure on yourself or the guy can only be detrimental. Right?
