There is something special about being 'first'. First in a race, first of its kind, first-born. And then, for newly married women in the northern plains of our country, there is the first Karva Chauth. Yesterday was my first. Luckily, it was a Saturday. Like thousands of other women, I planned, and I decked up, and I fasted. Mehendi and all that. It was my first, you see. Well, I'd be lying if said I didn't love it. It was special. The husband waiting on me hand and foot, lest I get mehendi on our white sofas. Or the very white macbook. Yes, I loved it.
The moon played hide-and-hide, and finally we were able to seek at 10 30 pm, a blurry brightness behind a cloud. A heavy dinner followed, much happiness and wishes from everyone ensued as well.
Why bittersweet, you ask?
Later that night, the husband left for an overseas stint. For three months. Excellent opportunity for his career. Excellent opportunity for me to enjoy the single life I always crib I never got a chance to live.
Excellent opportunity to catch up with girlfriends, regular salon visits, twitterverse and embarrassing TV I could never admit I watch. My first time living alone, all the space to myself. Sounds good?
Well it has been 10 hours since he left. Have spent 6 of them sleeping, and the other 4 missing him. So much for my 'space'. As I waved goodbye to the fading taxi last night, overcoming many a throaty lump, I realised what an institution marriage truly is. My life revolves around him, whether I like it or not. From the mundane alarm setting variety, to the management of myriad landlord/carpenter/watchman issues, there is just so much I depend on him for, even if the money is not one of them.
Sunday mornings used to always be a battle; and getting up early, in line with his body clock, was not something I'd do. I'd sleep in till noon, leaving him to fend for himself. Today, I wake up before 9, and neither Twitter nor TV interests me. Making chai for one is just no fun.
I realise that marriage makes us weaker. Definitely. Suddenly I find myself unable to shop alone, go for a random drive alone, buy vegetables for one. I want to quit my job and tend to him and cook for him and clean after him. My feminist classmates from college will be disappointed, much. My own mother can't believe me when I talk like this. But that's the way it is. Practicality is a different matter, but if I had to, I would.
Spending all our time together, makes each minute spent apart even harder. As he left last night, he took a piece of my heart with him. I feel incomplete now, an incomplete puzzle. One that even I can't solve. One that he can, by coming back soon.
He forgot to detach my heartstrings from his, taking me along, yet leaving me here. All I can do, is wait.
The moon played hide-and-hide, and finally we were able to seek at 10 30 pm, a blurry brightness behind a cloud. A heavy dinner followed, much happiness and wishes from everyone ensued as well.
Why bittersweet, you ask?
Later that night, the husband left for an overseas stint. For three months. Excellent opportunity for his career. Excellent opportunity for me to enjoy the single life I always crib I never got a chance to live.
Excellent opportunity to catch up with girlfriends, regular salon visits, twitterverse and embarrassing TV I could never admit I watch. My first time living alone, all the space to myself. Sounds good?
Well it has been 10 hours since he left. Have spent 6 of them sleeping, and the other 4 missing him. So much for my 'space'. As I waved goodbye to the fading taxi last night, overcoming many a throaty lump, I realised what an institution marriage truly is. My life revolves around him, whether I like it or not. From the mundane alarm setting variety, to the management of myriad landlord/carpenter/watchman issues, there is just so much I depend on him for, even if the money is not one of them.
Sunday mornings used to always be a battle; and getting up early, in line with his body clock, was not something I'd do. I'd sleep in till noon, leaving him to fend for himself. Today, I wake up before 9, and neither Twitter nor TV interests me. Making chai for one is just no fun.
I realise that marriage makes us weaker. Definitely. Suddenly I find myself unable to shop alone, go for a random drive alone, buy vegetables for one. I want to quit my job and tend to him and cook for him and clean after him. My feminist classmates from college will be disappointed, much. My own mother can't believe me when I talk like this. But that's the way it is. Practicality is a different matter, but if I had to, I would.
Spending all our time together, makes each minute spent apart even harder. As he left last night, he took a piece of my heart with him. I feel incomplete now, an incomplete puzzle. One that even I can't solve. One that he can, by coming back soon.
He forgot to detach my heartstrings from his, taking me along, yet leaving me here. All I can do, is wait.
I have read funny anecdotes on Karva Chauth. this is by far the most touching one :)
ReplyDeleteWow, lady. The peek into married life so lucidly described by you, now makes me understand married couples better . And their attachment too. Wish u a happy second part of ur life . Cheers.
ReplyDeletePs- i just found ur blog frm twitter , incase ure wondering