Marriage: Suicide or Resurrection

Marriage is the most painful decision which one takes with a happy heart. That’s what I feel after observing the screwed up faces of post-marital couples and the all excited and euphoric smiles of pre-marital beau and blonde. If we talk about India and Indian cultural heritage, the institution of marriage is primordial, having its roots in the Vedic time. Then gradually time changed, people changed and so changed the norms and modes of marriage. We see in Ramayana, bride exclusively has the right to choose her groom. We see in Mahabharta, a bride is shared by five husbands. And  in this way, standards of marriage keep on transforming.

Let’s focus now on what we see in the contemporary time. A girl has no say in the decision of her parents, and if she fortunately has, as least in urban educated families, she herself is too vulnerable in deciding for her marriage. Similar is the dilemma of the boy – whether to opt for a traditional arranged marriage or to search his worthy wife himself. It is the general view that marriage is equal to suicide, where one has to sacrifice one’s privacy and personal freedom. That seems quite true if we look at today’s married couples and their irritating life pattern. But around us few such couples also exist who take marriage as a mode of resurrection. Who are they – offshoots of love marriage or arranged marriage? But this category is not confined to either of the two possible modes. They belong to the third approach – arranged love marriage.

Marriage is not a secular or private duty. In fact, it is a sacred bond and a social function to magnify two souls along with faithfully carrying the reproductive process through physical consummation. If family and society has the criteria of caste and class to decide a possible wedding, similarly youth is rigidly obsessed with the standard of chastity and virginity. Nobody is concerned about the understanding that the ‘soon to be married’ couple share or not. Height is measured, horoscopes are intensely studied and material prosperity is exchanged, but no one feels to measure the compatibility level. And here lies the issue that later on eats up the conjugal intimacy, bereft of enough survivable emotional and psychological bonding.

Now a day, being emotional in love has become a matter of ridicule. People mock at it, considering it impractical and pure time wastage. But when these practical people get married to other practical persons, then this practicality renders their married life swamp with frustration, irritation and sometimes even contributes in turning their marriage a fiasco. 

Every relationship needs an emotional bonding, a sense of commitment. We cannot escape the responsibility on the excuse of being practical. Hence, let’s fall in love, let’s struggle to search our Mr/Miss Right and let’s convince our families to arrange our love marriage. Later on, when you would find yourself in the embrace of your soul mate, at every critical moment of life, each time you would thank the moment of your marriage and that moment would prove to be the moment of your resurrection. Thus, marriage is suicide for those who commit it and mode of resurrection for those who live it with emotional intimacy.        

My 25th Valentine’s Day

I am celebrating silver jubilee of my life on this Valentine, though the mode of celebration is different. I celebrate it by pondering over the moments I once had in my life. Life would have been more sweet and pleasant if I have the fruit of love still in my lap. But where is the time? Where is the time for girls to have a look on an average guy while so many hunks are already chasing them?  Sometimes I wonder why each boy wants his girlfriend to be a katerina kaif and every girl her boyfriend a Salman Khan? Can’t we love one for what he/she is? We fight over corruption in politics, impurity in vegetable oil and uncertainty in our life. But do we respect and care for honesty in behaviour, originality in one’s feelings and certainty in love? For me, unfortunately, the answer is ‘No’. What does it suggest? Perhaps we have a corrupt heart, an impure soul and an uncertain attitude. And the worse thing is we are not aware of it. But I am fortunate enough in this matter because SHE came in my life, what if for a short duration, and rubbed off my conscience.

If you have been in relationship with six or seven girls/boys (pay your attention to the repetition of ‘S’ sound here), it’s not any achievement. Rather it shows how much you lack consistency and loyalty. Love is not a game like Cricket where your century would be appreciated, mind it. It’s a deep passage to get refined just like falling into a pit to grow like a lotus. That’s why we fall in love to rise later. Many of you would not agree, I know. If there are varieties to be tasted and options to be opted, why we shouldn’t try them, they say. To answer this query, let me tell you a story. In fact, it’s not a story but an incident occurred recently to one of my friends, Mohit.

This incident happens at a pilgrimage to Goverdhan, a sacred place related to the most romantic and loving couple, Radha-Krishna, near Mathura, Utterpradesh. It is believed that fulfilment of our diehard wishes can be achieved by taking a round (Parikarma, as it is said in Hindi) of Goverdhan Parvat, with complete faith and integrity, marching with naked feet. It is almost 22 Kilometres long round to cover. I have visited this place several times in this short span of my life. But on my latest visit, there happens a unique episode that stimulates my faith in true love and its loyalty.

I have just started the revered ‘Parikarma’ of Goverdhan Parvat when a family – consisting of an old lady, her son and daughter – joins me. The lady is of almost 55 years old and she is in a yellow sari. Her son is in his 20’s and daughter should be 16. Soon we become familiar as it is obvious there. The lady tells me that they are on their first visit to this place. Out of curiosity I ask her if there is any strong reason for their visit. Her face immediately becomes pale. With her sad face she exchanges a glance with her son and relieves a sigh. She informs that their life is terrible due to her son’s miserable condition. I instantly look at the guy; he is six feet tall and seems to be quite healthy. What’s wrong with him? He is absolutely normal, I wonder. She looks at me and reveals that he sees a girl in his dreams but cannot identify her. And then he remains disturbed for the entire day. Due to this, he is at the verge of losing his job. They are very scared if she is a spirit or something. That’s why they are here in Lord Krishna’s holy land. His mother has heard that the soil of this place has something magical about it if it can cure her son’s problem.

I feel fascinated and become eager to know more and more about her son’s life. When I ask her to tell the details of his dream so that I may help them, she passes a sign to her son. And then he unfolds his past life before me.

His name is Mohit. He works as a technical officer in a call centre at DLF Phase IV in Gurgaon.

‘How many friends you have there,’ I ask. He counts in his mind and replies, ‘three or four.’

‘So few? Don’t you feel compatible there?’ I inquire and look at his face. He starts fumbling for words. I think he is feeling hesitate in his mother and sister’s presence. So I ask him to walk fast so that we can maintain a distance from them.

Now we are almost 30 feet ahead of his family. I look back at his mother and she smiles as if she is saying ‘carry on.’ Then we come back to the topic.

‘You are a well built guy, you must have been in some relationship,’ I comment.

‘No, not up to now,’ he replies reluctantly.

‘Don’t feel shy, you can tell me. This is common now.’

‘Truly, I never have a girl in my life in that sense.’

‘It sounds strange. What about your other male colleagues? Don’t they have girlfriends?’

‘No . . . I mean almost everyone has, even two or three at a time.’

‘So what’s wrong with you?’

‘Nothing, I just don’t feel like that.’

‘Okay, who is your best friend there?’

‘Kapil, his name is Kapil.’

‘How many GFs he has?’

‘He has three: Dipti, Reema and Neha.’ Mohit pronounces ‘Neha’ with an added emphasis.

‘How is Neha?’

‘She is receptionist there, very beautiful and charming. I personally like her smile.’ I notice that this is the first time when Mohit himself furnishes details about someone, that too willingly, without waiting for my next question. There can be something more about Neha, I think, and ask him to describe her.

‘Neha? She is gorgeous. Just like an angel.’

‘So, if you like her so much, haven’t you tried to be her friend?’

‘No . . . I mean she doesn’t like reserved persons like me.’

‘Okay, how is her relationship with kapil?’

‘She is damn serious about him. But he is a big flirt. Actually, he likes Aditi. But Reema spends money on him so he is intimate with her too. For him, Neha is just a time pass.’

‘Haven’t you attempted to make him understand?’

‘I try sometimes but he thinks I am jealous of him.’

‘And what about Neha? Have you ever talked to her regarding this?’

‘Once, but she took me wrong and said that I abuse my friend because I want to claim his place in her life.’

‘Oh, so you are slapped from both sides,’ I comment. ‘What do you exactly see in your dream?’ I think a diversion is needed then.

‘I see a girl who has turned her face and is crying. It’s a crowded place full of noises. All passersby stare at me in a strange manner but my eyes are just fixed on her. There is something in her hands, I cannot identify, and that she is holding near her bosom. But as I approach her, she throws that object at me and walks away. When she throws that item at me, a loud shriek comes out from my mouth and with it I wake up. That’s why, now a days, my mother sleeps near me.’

‘Do you see only this version each time or there happens to be some variation?’

‘There is a shadowy figure too at a distance towards which she walks away after turning her back at me. But only sometimes I can feel him there, not always.’

First I convince him that it’s neither a big problem nor a disease to fear for. This dream is just a manifestation of your unfulfilled wishes. It’s quite possible that what she throws at you is your heart, and the guy to whom she goes is you friend and that crowd and noises are of you call enter.

Now he seems more panicky than before. Then I feel it’s the right time to reveal another possible dimension of his dream.

‘You may likely see your friend in your own image and the thing can be his heart that she throws back. She cries because she is probably filled with regret for loving a disloyal person. And the shadowy image towards which she moves may be you, since you are a mere shadow, an unacknowledged presence, up to now.’

As he listens to my words, his expressions change radically. Perhaps he is blushing from within. He meditates a little and then asks, ‘Can this be the meaning of my dream?’

‘Of course, it can be and the authentic one in my view,’ I say firmly. He is looking somewhat relieved after listening this. The ‘Parikarma’ is finished at 2:20 am. After that we return back to ‘dharmshala’ both sleepy and fatigued. He does not ask or reveal anything else in the way back.

I wake up at 9:50 in the morning. Mohit is lying beside me, hands folded on the chest. There is a light smile on his face. I shake him and he opens his eyes. ‘Have you seen that dream during last night too?’ I ask him, looking curiously into his eyes. There is calmness and peace on his face when he says ‘no’.

Later when I join his mother and sister for breakfast, his mother says that there is certainly a magic in this soil that has cured her son. Mohit too is looking refreshed and relieved as if a heavy stone has been removed from his chest.

I receive a call from him on 6 jan. 2012. He is very excited. He tells me that now he is no longer in that depressed situation. Kapil’s reality has been exposed to Neha. She has caught him red handed in a discotheque with Aditi on the eve of New Year. She is very depressed after that. But yesterday she asks Mohit personally why he doesn’t have a girlfriend. He simply replies that he loves her and that’s why he can’t accept anyone else till now. She looks at him aggressively and then leaves.

‘Today, first time in my life, I receive a call from a girl and it is Neha. She feels sorry for her yesterday’s rude behaviour and reveals that she too likes me. But Kapil used to paint a negative picture of mine before her. So she has never taken any interest in me. But now she says she likes me.’ Mohit tells me and seems very happy and excited.

Author’s note:

For me, this valentine is very special. What if I don’t have someone to love me, to love in its harmonized sense, at least I could become a medium of streaming love in the life of someone like me.  I love the concept of love and the people who firmly believe in it, so that there would not remain a single lovelorn self. In fact to make somebody deserving in his own eyes is the true function of love. I did it unselfishly. Now it’s your turn. Have you made this valentine special for you?

    

Ruins of My First Relationship

There she is waiting for me at the college gate I don’t know from when. I too used to wait for her in the similar manner before and after proposing her for the first time. Standing on one leg, the other one bended and firmly fixed on the gate, hands folded on the chest and the entire body leaned back comfortably over the gate. When she became visible from a distance, I would relieve a long breath and hands automatically shifted into my jeans pockets. I never dared to maintain eye contact with her at the time of her arrival. But I already knew that she daily used to observe me with her penetrating big black eyes. Her sense of perceiving was so strong that sometimes you feel as if she is peeping into your soul directly, measuring both your intentions and pretentions. Hence my eyes were always fixed on her feet observing the vibration in her sandals with her each step, whenever she passed by me.

   

Although she is not the most beautiful girl of our class yet nobody can surpass her intellectual and insightful persona; since she is the rare combination of B & B – beauty and brain. There was not a single lecture in which she had not raised questions. Even our well qualified professors sometimes felt uncertain of their information before her logical arguments. For her such behaviour all students and professors tried to keep themselves aloof from her presence. But things were the other way round in my case. I would sit at the forth bench from her. The right side of her face was clearly visible from there. ‘What I’m doing is a matter of great risk,’ my friends would usually warn me. But I didn’t know why I felt fascinated towards her. Perhaps she was as lonely as I was. This was the single common thing between us, compelling me to access her heart to know the truth.

But it was as risky to penetrate in her life as to enter a lioness’s cave. I was helpless at my hearts hands. So I decided to talk to her. One day when she passed by me at the college gate, I dared to follow her. As she sensed me she instantly turned back. My feet froze and eyes rendered wide apart in surprise. Her constant gaze made me feel a culprit without committing any serious crime. And then her lips moved and uttered something. Perhaps she asked, ‘What do you want?’ I wanted to say ‘nothing’ but my throat deserted me and I had to shake my neck in negative. Then she turned her face in the opposite direction and walked out leaving me dazzled and screwed. That was the first silent deliberation of my feelings for her.

After that day almost one year had passed. But I didn’t stop waiting for her at the gate. Her expressions were not least changed. But that could not work for a longer time for only one year had left of our course. The feeling that after this period of time I would never see her again was assassinating my heart every single moment. There was merely one way left for me to access her; and that was to ask her help for the assignments. She was sitting alone on a bench in the front garden, head buried in book. I finally gathered courage and went in front her. As she heard my greetings, she looked at me in her typical strained expression as if I had uttered four-lettered words before her. ‘What do you want,’ she inquired. This time I nervously replied, ‘Your help.’ Then after answering her ‘for what, why and how’ questions, she finally asked me to sit beside her. I sat down but my legs kept on trembling despite my constant effort to prevent them. How could it be missing from her notice? She offered me to sit comfortably bearing a streak of smile on her winsome face. Somehow I convinced my heart to get rid of her phobia, but it was not fully convinced. We discussed our respective topics and I appreciated her command over English language and our subject. After that day it became almost a routine. Whenever I found her sitting alone, I would go to her and discuss whatsoever was left in the class incomprehensible. Soon I realized that I was being improved both in studies and behaviour unknowingly. She too had become friendly with me perhaps because I was the only one who loved to listen to her.

I still detest that day when the evil thought of proposing her for a date entered my mind. I went to her and sat beside. She welcomed my presence with a smile full of vitality. After discussing some subject related issues, I asked her if we are friends. She said a ‘Yes.’ Then I inquired what type of friends. ‘Perhaps best friend,’ she said. I took her statement as a confirmation sign that now she can go with me to any extent. And unfortunately I revealed that I have a soft corner for her in my heart and strong feelings of liking. ‘I feel for you from the day I first acknowledged your worthy presence in the class. Perhaps this is what called love. My intentions . . . .’ She cut down short my declaration of love and declared, ‘I know what you intentions are? If I ever see you nearby me, that will be the most tragic day of your life. Now leave and never try to talk to me.’ I had to stand up from the bench. After that day I stopped waiting for her at the gate. I cursed myself for the loss of a best friend. In attaining more than what I deserved, I lost what I had.

But when I read my assignment in the classroom, it was declared as the best assignment of our batch. I openly gave credit to HER for her constant support and encouragement while preparing this assignment. She could not react before the whole class. Then days kept on rolling with their pace. Perhaps she used to miss my presence at the college gate daily, or at least I think so. And today is the last day of our class. It’s the day of our farewell party.

She is standing at the gate. Even today I cannot maintain eye contact with her. Hence, I silently attempt to pass before her. To add to my surprise she calls me by my name from behind. My feet stopped even against my will. I turned towards her. There was smile on her face. With her each step she is coming close to me it seems stroke of a hammer is hitting at my heart. Today is my turn to ask her, so I ask, ‘What do u want.’ She bursts into laughter and replies, ‘You.’  I meditate should I laugh or not and finally decide to maintain a strained expression. Today our roles seem exchanged: I am in her and she is in me. Then she asks, ‘Why I don’t wait for her at the gate now.’ I just say, ‘excuse me’ and walk away.

She has been observing me during the party, I noticed. When party ends students begin to wish each other best of luck for future and do promises of remaining in contact. After taking leave from all my batch mates, I am standing alone at the gate of my classroom. Almost everybody has departed. I don’t know what I am waiting for, perhaps for her. But she has also gone. I again curse myself for not allowing her to deliberate what she wanted to. Then disappointedly I start walking down from the stairs. Head bowed down, I keep on walking hopelessly. I look upward when I reach near the college gate. She is still standing there. I bend down on my knees and relieve a long distressed breath. She comes and sits before me. First she kisses my forehead and then both eyes. I cannot believe it is happening to me. And then she hugged me. A moment of peace captures both of us in ecstasy. I expect her to kiss my lips too, but she doesn’t. So I take the initiative and at the next moment our lips are locked in a mutual contact celebrating the pleasure of being together.

All these incidents occurred in my life unexpectedly. I still wonder what it was that brought her back in my life; and what it was that made mutual love sprout from the ruins of my first relationship.