On the occasion of my parents fortieth anniversary, one is left with the same mix of awe and disgust as their bond has always inspired in me. Let’s never get into the details of that, for as long as they are around out of respect for their privacy and when they won’t be there, well as they say, ‘don’t speak ill of the dead’. Neither parties has had it easy, let’s just put it like that, equally strained by a union that everybody thought would go kaput, as they were so different. Love I tell you, is a malice. It is but an unfortunate thing, though, that so much of my Mother’s life is defined by this one relationship and a forewarning of sorts to me, that, never let a man be your ‘wajood’.
Remind me, if I give into the demands of any of the pursuers (which I doubt, as I’m a slimy, slippery little thing) to get a prenuptial agreement signed. A list of written vows, if you may. Something like this-
1) I promise that you and the children I bear will be above and beyond money for me.
2) I promise to celebrate each occasion with the family -birthdays, anniversaries, Diwali, Christmas etc
3) I promise to never raise a finger on you.
4) I promise to make love to you multiple times a week and if I don’t you can walk out of the marriage.
5) I promise to be an inspiration to my children, teaching my son how to treat women and showing my daughter through my own example, what to expect from a man.
I have always been aware of two very distinct parts of me-SB and SC. Though dramatically different, somethings have remained the same, after all there is but one figurehead-I. Neither characters have aspired for much, both could easily spend their lives, sitting by the side of a lake, staring into nothingness.
But unfortunately, one is very egoistic and the other a bit too emotional. So while one believes, ‘success is the best form of revenge’ and has a list of people she wants to pay back with interest, the other finds herself wanting to fit into her brother’s shoes. In a world, where you’re repeatedly taught to be less than you are, where the education system teaches you to be workers, rather than creators; where women especially are given less choices than men, one finds oneself to be in a blessed position.
To be given the ability and the will to first be able to take an enormous amount of criticism, from all quarters, requires (well I have my childhood to thank for that, it was my boot camp) one to be ‘dheet’. To be in a position where God asks you to make a choice between what you love and your responsibilities…to be able to choose both, is a blessing. Well, what can I say some of us want everything! For now one’s choosing to be the jack of all trades, who knows what will happen later. Like they say, ‘ Jo kucch diya gaya he uske bhalle bhandari bano!’