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.