A total disastrous case of two states

Our’s is not a love story, which we actually like to narrate. I fell in love with R (my husband) just after our first phone call. Ok! Not really. I was being super honest discussing gender roles in a married life and I told him, I’m not going to serve you tea at 6:00 hours ( talking to him in a Fauji way). I am a night watchman and I love my morning sleep. After working with various media organisations, I’m used to staying up late. Anyhow, knowing each other for quite some time now, we were set to tie the knot. Here’s  when the real struggle begins because its involving two families and various absurd rituals and traditions. 

From convincing to our parents to bridging all the loopholes we’d come across, we weren’t sure how bumpy our ride would be. R who belongs from Bihar been living on his own for over six to seven years and wasn’t aware of his family customs. The family is traditional and orthodox when it comes to dealing with their daughter-in-law. Whereas I was a brat, a Rajasthani, lived in metros and various parts of the world with a mindset of my own. After almost a troublesome year, we got married in November 2015 and headed to Bihar. It was a train journey and I was accompanied with R and his siblings. 

As I stepped in our coach, all the women sitting gave judgemental glances. I wasn’t a proper bride as I picked up a cotton salwar kameez for a long journey ahead. It’s funny as soon as you get married, all the women around you start judging you why is she not wearing mangalsutra or a sindoor. I have conquered toughest battles in life, but this appeared to be something else. 

I was nervous, scared, but R was on a different trip altogether. He was only eating throughout the journey. But my stomach was growling because toilets in Indian trains are not inviting enough. (Haha). After over 24 hours, we reached R’s hometown where a cab typically decorated with flowers (gende ke phool). We reached his home and I quickly manage to drape a sari on my boney frame and started our journey to R’s native village, which was still 45 minutes away. It was already dark with no road lights at all. I would lie if I was regretting this decision, as time had come when I had to face hundreds of village women. They appeared to me like white walkers and R was my dragon glass. He kept assuring me that he won’t leave me at all. As soon as we reached the village, hundreds thronged me and asked me to do everything, I have been reporting against all these years. Keeping a low profile and overcoming the shock of what really happened, I made it to R’s grandmother’s room. She was the only one who loved me like her own daughter. Yes, her thoughts were vintage, but she appeared to be so warm. 

Well, post all the chaos and drama, all I desired for was a clean bed and a bathroom. But it was too much to ask for. There was constant nagging and teasing, also the narration of absurd suhagraat jokes. I ended up feeling awful and humiliated. I wasn’t calm as R had assumed. The darkest night ended up on a bitter note. Anyhow, the morning started on a pleasant note. R got a tiny furry ball to play with. I absolutely adore dogs and he had won my heart with this adorning act. We played with it for the entire morning and then started the endless trips to temples. Boy! I was exhausted emotionally and physically by the evening.

The experience is still fresh in my mind and I haven’t been to R’s hometown and village since then. Still there’re several doubts that haunt my mind everyday. Can I be part of the world where women’s opinions are thrown in trash? I do speak to my in-laws on phone and narrate them the stories of modern world.

And I don’t know if R really feels the pain as I do for all the women in the village. But he has been a supportive and unconventional husband. All we need is a little furry friend to complete our family.