Random Expressions

In Hum Tum, in an exasperated outpour, Rhea Prakash (Rani Mukherjee) laments that why should everyone get down to matchmaking as soon as they sight a single girl; why should marriage be the end-goal for a girl? It is astonishing (and sad) that how Indian girls see marriage and having kids the be-all and end-all of life; be it Madhuri Dixit, or your ordinary colleague, it seems the grand Indian middle class dissolves this dictum in the milk they feed that your life’s sole goal is to get married. Though this trait is there for the men too (you are not considered “settled” till the time you have a spouse, despite having the best of jobs and the biggest of cars), the girls take to this norm like fish to water.

In college, she was like a breath of fresh air in our class. Had Mai Hoon Na been released at that time, I would have felt a million violins playing too. Tall, and with a perfect figure, she entered the classroom on the first day, with a tentative half-smile, her purse held with poise in her soft delicate but long hands. A mild perfume danced around her slim demeanor, as if it was attracted to her, but too scared to touch her. She had a soft face, a small pert nose, and lips that need not pout, because they were naturally shaped in a bow like arch. Her skin would make the Clearasil people proud, and her hair was long and lustrous, tied tightly behind her in a stiff ponytail.

Her eyes were the most attractive: large,round & outlined with a heavy dose of the blackest of black kaajal. The eyes were warm, expressive and made friends instantaneously.

We met, and a lovely friendship initiated. For three years thereon, we were the best of friends. Since her house was on the way to my home, we got extra time on the U-specials also. Soon, more joined in, & we had a proper gang. But largely, a lot of our time was spent together, discussing notes, films, politics; or, simply, roaming the streets of Kamla Nagar, and enjoying ‘kulcha chholas’ at Chacha’s or Fruit Beer at Minishop.

Despite coming from an affluent family, she had no airs on her, and her clothes were neat, but always simple. She was a good conversationalist, a keen listener, and very mature in her views. Since our major woes centered on a certain affliction that came every April-May, she was an able support. We discussed at length the career route that we should take, and the multifarious options available, debating on each one’s pros and cons, with whatever limited knowledge that we had. Eventually, I met her parents, she met mine, and we became sort of family friends.

After three years of college, we drifted apart as we took up our respective career options. Soon I got engulfed into a ceaseless vortex of meeting deadlines, and relentlessly pursuing an illogical rat race of climbing the corporate ladder.

Years later, I met her when I had gone to deliver my marriage invitation. And was I shocked to see her!!

She had married in between, and there was a drastic change! The kaajal was gone, leaving her eyes looking big empty blots, and the perfect figure was bloated up at all the wrong places in a typical Punjabi manner, with the adipose settling in with a firm smugness! With a kid in one hand, and a plate of some oily eatable in another, she met me- all smiles and contentment. What happened? Arre, now I am married and mother and settled, what else! And what about your job? Too tiring, and boring! This is fun; she giggled gleefully, which only made me look at her guiltily.

I wanted to tell that at least you can take care of your looks, but stopped short seeing the apparent satisfaction and gratification that she was exuding, as she cuddled her baby, and rattled off about her husband, and the places that she had been with him, by virtue of his job.

I have nothing against the institution of marriage; on the contrary, I respect it fully. But, I believe, that like all institutions, it should be approached just for the benefits it provides- a great societal stamp on enduring companionship. It should not be made the final destination, beyond which life should cease to exist. If educated girls like my friend can feel and think this way, I get a trifle worried; after all, what education will she be imparting to her own daughter at the end of the day?

Originally Titled - A Whiff of Fresh Air

Technorati : Marriage, Matchmaking, Punjabi

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This entry was posted on Friday, June 25th, 2004 at 5:50 pm and is filed under Issues & Opinions. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.