“All that matters is how he swept you off your feet.” These were the common lines I came across in every chicklit i read. I agree hands down that I am a fairy-tale person who dreamt of a Knight-in-Shining-Armour with Band, Baja and Baarat every night.
And so for a while I believed that just like my other cousins there shall be someone who’ll come to see me, discuss the technicalities of life and agree to be my life partner only to realize that such decisions can’t and shouldn’t be taken over night. I have had my share of rishtas where I was rejected/ short-listed/ long-waited etc. Where every brain in my cell would tell me that I was hopelessly trying to do something I was not meant for and made it quite clear that Love cannot be an arrangement. Marriage is not a game. Quite early I realized that most arranged marriages stand on fickle earth. Caste. Religion. Family-background. Nationality. Occupation. Labels. You’re marrying labels. Stop marrying labels, start marrying people.
I remember it was instilled in me for long to ‘First study, go to college, get a job and then a boy will automatically want to marry you’. Who is your husband marrying then? Is he marrying you? Or is he marrying the 24 hr maid or a five-figure job? I’d rather spend my life with a guy who loved me when I was no one, who’d love me for me the chick lit loving, Titanic-crying, deep-feeling, crazily adventurous, drama spouting bag that I am.
I have been in love. It is a wonderful wonderful feeling. It cannot be simulated or faked or arranged. You simply cannot throw two supposedly “compatible” individuals together and tell them to fall in love. Love is a spontaneous reaction. There’s this thing about love, it comes knocking at the unlikeliest of times and if you can plan it then it isn’t love.
When you marry someone you forge that ONE relationship that you get a say in. I couldn’t choose who gets to be my parents or who gets to be my sister. It was all by default. But when it comes to my husband, that choice is all mine. The very nature of the choice puts that relationship on a different level, it exists because it is ALL me, I initiated it, I worked on it, I willed it into being. And this one guy destined to be my husband is too special to be picked out in a cattle-fair.
If you’ve never loved or seen love, the romantic earth-shattering-sleep-deprived kinds how will you know what you’re missing out on? I have seen first hand what J has done for me and I can’t settle for anything less. I want those random dreamy-loved-up looks across the room, I want to not stop texting 20+ years into marriage, I want fresh carnations at every-meets, I want framed greeting-cards that bear ‘yours and only yours’, I want ‘I’ll-carry-you-to-the-room’, I want weekend movie-watching/cuddling and I want mock super-competitive pictionary/taboo/card games. I refuse to believe that this zing, spark, twinning of souls can be “gamed” or “matched”.
I know how beautiful a marriage can be. I want all this. I want more. There is no one who knows me better than me. And the one great decision of whose face every morning’s sun-rays will bounce off to meet mine will be mine and mine alone.