The post card from the past…. a little damp…

“You will need to marry five men then."

Said Mama, with a poker face and without looking at me. She kept knitting calmly while I sat there with my mouth agape. I looked at her expressionless face and noticed the suppressed smile hovering at the corner of her mouth. From her face, I gauged that she was aware of my torrent of questions that she knew would follow her declaration, and was waiting for me to speak first.

This happened some two decades ago, when arranged marriages were quite prevalent in India and mama told me that they have looked for a match and I must be prepared to get married soon.

And I had different plans. I wanted to pursue a Master’s degree in English literature, go for a PhD and later become a famous writer!!

Apart from this.... what about those dreams of a man who would be a combination of Sean Connery (sex appeal) James Dean (good looks), Stallone (physique) …and with whom I would fall in love at first sight!

Hey, I want to ‘find myself’ first. Along came my vehement protest.

"Find your self with the man who would soon be your husband. Women must get married at a young age". I was told.

"What on earth for? " A slow anger was building deep inside me.

"Reproductive period; beauty declines too, and then no one would want to marry you".

"To hell with them, so much better if they do not." I revolted silently.

The seething inside was turning into a simmer now, but I dare not voice my annoyance. The decorum had to be maintained. Voices had to be kept low while speaking to the parents.

"I want to marry the man I would fall in love with". I protested quietly.

"You would learn to love the man you marry". Pat came the reply.

"No one ‘learns’ to love. It happens". I wanted to scream. But the scream remained stuck somewhere in the esophagus region.

"You will like him. We have found you a good match". I was offered an olive branch.

"Did you ask what ‘I’ like?"- That tiny rebellious voice surfaced again.

"Tell us then". I was granted the permission.

"All right, I want a man who is first and foremost, Good Looking. Must be tall, witty, gentle, reflective, understanding, caring .He should match my intellectual wavelength and should be well read. Must have nice looking hands and clean nails. Must be a good conversationalist, and should be my best friend first before being my husband".

I saw the subtle play of indefinable expressions on her face that lasted for infinitesimal seconds, and then she was back to her placid self again.

"Impossible! She said. You will need to marry five men, because at best only two of the above will be found in one man".

I drifted between suppressed rebellion and a helpless rage. Mama was busy with her knitting, her nimble fingers going in and out quickly through the bright multi coloured wool. I watched the intricate weaving, the maze of different hues and the emerging pattern. She looked at me and I found that the smile at the corner of her mouth had disappeared and her eyes were sad and thoughtful. She put her knitting aside and touched my cheek briefly, as angry tears strained to come out from my eyes.

On that dismal and sultry evening, she spoke to me of life. Of relationship. Of marriage.

‘This is what relationship is all about. So many colours, hues, patterns, intricacies. Mind boggling at first, but we work through it to find a shape and pattern in it. We learn to loop the threads and use our creativity to make something out of nothing.

Don’t wait for love. Love is inexplicable. It is wanton. The more you chase it, the less you find it. Love is a vision. Marriage is reality.

Marriage is work. Hard sincere work. It is grit and common sense. Remember men become ‘only’ husbands after marriage; no matter how great a friend or lover they have been before walking to the altar.

No one gets a perfect ten; even five would be enough to carry on. The sooner you accept the fact the happier you would be’.

I sat quietly, listening to her. Absolutely unconvinced.

Years later…

I realize today that those feeble voices of protests are the only salvage against the disillusionments of later years. Failed marriage, broken relationships. You get over everything, but not the fact that you had once cheated your inner voice.

Life and love happen to those who follow their hearts. Rest is illusion. You get what you desire, if only you believe in it long enough. I believe now that in life it is very important to love ourselves enough to know that we must never settle for anything less than seven!

Until that happens… we could easily remain happy singing solo songs.

Love you Mama, but nothing comes with a promise. Neither love, nor marriage. We have to find our own quiet rhythm in the cacophony of life.