Dead-End

When did you last laid back and look up at the sky? When did you last felt at peace and did nothing? The best things in life are free, and the best feelings are inexplicable. But, in a complex web of society we humans create and blend in, complications cannot be ruled out anyway. We thrive on dilemma, love the undefinable, and chase the unsolvable. If something’s out of our reach, we desire it the most – sometimes actually achieving it!

Nature - the ultimate balancing force of universe, gives everyone, the same quota of experiences. Notwithstanding our unique histories, geographies, chemistries, biology’, stations and situations in life, we all share the same emotions. The timing, occurrences and intensities of events may vary, but we go through same feelings, over and over again. As centuries turn to millennia, the drama repeats itself, albeit with a change in backdrop. Then, all is wiped out and we go back to fresh beginnings. The Mandelbrot set, and its thumbprint of god – is the perfect example of how we can find the story of Ouroboros play out within our lifetimes, for each part is a whole.

In the quest to make our lives easier, have added to our uneasiness. In a quest to make our lives better, have traded it for worse. The only thing we ever have on us is, so intangible and so limited – our time. And yet, we trade it for money and we call ourselves free! All ideologies from communist to capitalist, from socialist to monarchist, from imperialism to oligarchies, have failed. Ideologies don’t work, Anarchism does! We are free-willed, and chains make us weak, limiting our potential. If only we could trade differently, how many talents would be utilized? How many people could lead more fulfilling lives, not having keep on doing the same things we get bored of. Humans are not machines!

The institution of marriage, too needs a major overhaul. The concept has become so archaic and useless, hindering growth of our civilization. Do we need to marry to find love or make babies? Do marriages guarantee sexual monopoly? Have our minds become so numb to new ideas? When our ways of living have changed in all spheres, what are we afraid of – women’s unrestrained and unbounded sexuality? And what about different laws for different religions and regions, for the same humans? Isn’t divorce rate over 40% in UK and US? Don’t some religions allow polygamy? Does Indian divorce rate of less than 1% mean, our social and legal structure makes us continue to suffer in silence? I bet, for it’s not just love that keeps us together. If we’re really inextricable, do we need a paper or social approval!

O are we scared that we call property, never really ours, and of no use to us when we die, could be relished by others? Why not instead build better old-age institutions, given we’re so scared of dying alone? So pious and loyal we are, except only we slip, when given a chance – hiding in cars, hotels, resorts, movie theatres, flats, dark rooms, messengers and where not. A few cannot change the system – those on the top don’t care, and bottom ones are voiceless. It’s only the winds of change that can alter status-quo, and they’re already gathering storm.

It’s hard to get by without love, only if I understood that earlier. When no one thinks of us, we need to think about ourselves. If a marriage doesn’t work out, does one keep on trying to make it work only to find, that the best years of life have gone by? Or do you call it quits? How do kids affect one’s decision? As I go against the grain, there’s nothing more fulfilling. I shall screw what's screwed me, and be an original. Isn’t anything legendary an original?

‘Hey, come here for a minute. I need to talk to you.’ Kishan said. Sitting on a folding bed in the lobby, he asked, ‘Son, when do you plan to get married?’ I’d never considered it before, so this question out of nowhere unsettled me. I said, ‘Not for at-least another three to four years.’ I’ve never even had a girlfriend; how could they pre-suppose that. He continued, ‘Everyone must marry someday. Tell us what do you want?’ I replied, ‘If I have to do it, I’d prefer an educated, working girl, who’s well-travelled with a life of her own.’ I wanted to tell them about my pyramid of desires, but chose not to. For where could they find a woman –

so winsome, that I could drown in her eyes

so divine, that I could spend every day of my life with

so calm and patient, that could handle my transgressions

so irresistible, that I could make love to her day and night

so transformative, that partakes in my dreams and aspirations

so effortless, who gets my highs and lows and accepts my flaws

so heavenly, who knows of my dark places, fears, and yet isn’t afraid

A few weeks later, my mother, Rashi said on phone, ‘Son, just go and meet her once.’, as she cajoled me to go and meet Pallavi, as customary for arranged marriages. ‘Mummy, you know I don’t want to get married right now. I’m not settled, so how will I take care of her.’ She said, ‘If you don’t like her, just say no.’ I reiterated, ‘You’re not getting my point here. Anyways, I don’t want to break a girl’s heart by rejecting her for no fault of hers.’ She persisted, ‘Your father has already given his word, don’t make him look bad. Just go.’ I had no choice, I felt at the time.

Few days later, before we left, my best friend Tarun called. I didn’t pick up, for I was screening him over a recent squabble. That was my second chance, but I toyed my destiny that day. On our arrival, Pallavi’s father said, ‘This visit is just a formality, for we’ve already decided.’ as her mother Savita laughed, and when a girl’s mother behaves so, a night-mare awaits. I looked at Kishan’s discreet face. Pallavi walked in timidly, with shaky hands, and I mistook her disposition for nervousness. When nobody left or asked us to, I greeted her and asked, ‘What did you study in college?’ ‘I’m an arts graduate from DU.’, she replied. She indeed was, but without ever stepping into a college, pursuing studies by distance mode.

‘I like watching English movies and series. What do you like?’, ‘I prefer Bollywood movies.’, she replied, adding, ‘I like Honey Singh’s songs.’ She might be fun, I thought. Her sister-in-law’ kept sitting next to her as if glued, and I assumed, that she might be shy. Assumption is the mother of all screw ups! After a few more assumptions, I assumed that she seemed ‘okay’. I didn’t have a girlfriend, and my parents wouldn’t stop bickering until I’d marry. So, I walked outside the room to Kishan, and he asked, ‘So?’, and I said, ‘Yes.’ In the repressive societies we live in, conforming is the norm.

I see doublethink when people with failed arranged marriages, fix marriages for their children. It’s called ‘tying the knot’ for a reason. On the way back, I told Kishan, ‘She doesn’t know anything!’ I’ll never digest what he said, ‘Isn’t that a good thing.’ Both my parents were well educated, at least I used to think so. How then could they turn out to be so orthodox? I started doubting if I did the right thing. After a few of reluctancy, and Pallavi wanting to talk on phone, my doubts were confirmed. Slowly – layer, by layer I knew she and I would never be compatible. I told her so, and she cried. She didn’t budge. Whenever I’d visit home on weekends, I’d ask my parents to re-consider and cancel the wedding. Rashi would pass the buck to Kishan, who would say, ‘What if someone did this to your sister?’ I had no answer to this, but I did say it’ll ruin me, it’ll be the end of my dreams. They didn’t seem to care. I thought of running away or relocating elsewhere, but I didn’t want to hurt Pallavi.

A relationship sans trust is like a plate riddled with holes, that stains and drains. I told her all wrongs I’d done in my life, and about my being careless, irresponsible and broke. She was upset but only said, ‘Whatever’s in past is past. My parents would blame me, if the marriage falls apart.’ She wasn’t happy either, for I wasn’t price charming either, and she was not even given a choice. I stopped taking calls from her and my family. Nothing changed, except my parents tried to visit me in vain. When I finally spoke, I told them – if I leave her someday, you’ll be to blame. In the due course of our married life, I did come close to that, each time I ended up having a baby, each time I went a little deeper into the ground.

The next I went to her home, Savita put a gold chain so tight it gripped my neck. Pallavi was six years old, when her paternal aunt Savita, adopted her. Her birth-mother had three daughters in a row, hoping for a son each time. Savita only son longed for a sister, so it worked for both. Pallavi is a little reticent about those times, and I get why. It wasn’t the best childhood, she’d wanted. Savita often says, ‘Our fortunes changed for better after Pallavi came to us.’ When do my fortunes wake up? It’s already been seven long years! Nobody seems to care when you’re in mess, even if they created it. Until recently, I was taking personal loans just to get by, forget any savings! You can’t dream when you’re poor. And day dreaming, seems like a stuff of dreams. Poverty comes not in only one form of currency, for one devoid of love is the most impoverished.

A wrong marriage can wreck people, for some people are just bad for your health. You can’t think or do anything, but you can’t run away either. What is the price of ruining a life? What is the punishment for ruining in life? This is what happened to my pyramid of desires, I had a woman –

so irksome and loud, that I often cringe

so rancorous, that I’ll be smothered aeon

so violent, that it my soul is replete of scars

so repulsive, that her words cut deep into me

so incompatible, that it kills dreams and hopes

so difficult, that it’s hard to be happy and myself

so iniquitous, that my dark side never saw the light

In today’s ever-evolving world, being technically challenged is a major disability. As the adage goes – if you teach a man, you teach a man, but if you teach a woman you teach an entire village. It was unfair to not send a daughter to college, not teaching her to ride and drive. Why obsess over sons? Why not treat daughters at par? But, patriarchy rules, thanks to women who don’t complain.

When Pallavi was carrying our firstborn, Atul, Rashi kept guessing, if the child was a boy or a girl. It used to trouble Pallavi much, and I’d try to comfort her, ‘I just want both of you to be safe and healthy.’ So, when Pallavi was carrying our second child, Amita, I flatly told Rashi, ‘Mummy, this time it’s most probably a girl. Aren’t you satisfied with one grandson?’ She smiled greedily, and I hated it. The day Ichcha was born, I called Rashi from the hospital, ‘It’s a girl.’ She paused briefly, before saying ‘Congratulations!’, and then adding, ‘It doesn’t matter if it’s a boy or a girl.’, she didn’t sound convincing, in fact it seemed as if she expected something else, trying to come to terms with the facts. Why can’t women, respect women? Why have notions that a daughter is a drain of wealth?