Everytime I look at my parents, my soul lingers out of my body, gives me a hot iron shovel hit and reminds me that they are the main reason behind my marriage phobia. Yes I seem to be suffering from this abysmal and indefensible mental issue called the Gamophobia (note the ‘Game’ part of the term).
When I say so about my family, one might think that I belong to a tumultuous family where melodrama is in the air and dramatic notes play in the background as the members throw brick bats at each other. You might even think of me as a girl who was a staunch rebel because of her situations at home and grew up listening to or writing angry girl songs. You might even try to picture my family as one where the children run around wailing while the adults pry against each other or have round table conference regarding ancestral property division. But no, my family was none of that because it lacked spice. It was the usual, keep your voices low because the neighbours are listening type. My family ran like clockwork where everyone fulfilled their duties as a member, exchanged pleasantries, had dinner together and then returned to bed so as to continue the same routine the next day, every day. I belong to an average Indian family.
Now the reason why this turned me into someone who fears marriage is because an average Indian family is based on the legendary patriarchal system. In this system the man shouts and the woman tolerates his callousness only because he is a man. According to this system the woman believes that manhood grants its member the authority to dominate and point fingers at the other sex. Almost every Indian family follows this rule. When a man shouts, it is because you did something wrong and when a woman shouts, she shouldn’t because she isn’t a man.
They say that a father is the first man in a girl’s life and a girl looks for the qualities of her father in the man she wants to spend her life with. Not that I hate my father, but I would never want my husband (if any) to be like him for if he happens to be that type, my marriage would last as long as Kim Kardashian’s, maybe shorter. My father is an amazing father, so amazing that while other kids tried to smooth paste their parents by telling them that both were equally loved, I would be choosing my dad over my mother. It had always been that way. But as I grew up I started seeing the bigger picture. My father is a typical husband. A husband who lives to take care of his wife and kids but does so by losing his temper on issue trivial but holding the fort when bulky issues appear. His anger seems to be at his nose and my mother has to drink it up whenever it runs, only because he is a man.
I can never allow a man to shout at me for random things and I can never erase it from my mind within seconds. I am someone who remembers criticism and the ugly words that has ever come out regarding me from any mouth. I am someone who cries revenge when hurt and making things right with me takes more than a simple smile or a formal apology. I wonder how my mother continues to live this way, happily sandwiched between the whims and fancies of her husband and her two children. It’s not that my father practices domestic violence or resorts to ill words, but angry tone regarding subjects the woman had no hand on, I find that uncalled for.
The method my mother adopts to combat her anger or humiliation is put into action after my father has vacated the scene of crime. She does so by mumbling to herself and then forgetting this ever happened in the next 5 seconds. Sometimes she fights back with a low voice but still she lets my father win in the end. Maybe this is what marriage is. Adjustments, because you just cannot get out of it, sacrifices because it is the cardinal principle of marriage and tolerance because you as a woman are supposed to land out of the womb with this lesson already injected in you.
I know that I should be a clever girl and try not to marry ever, because my marriage is never going to be a success if my man happens to follow the patriarchal system. I am not the type of woman who will happily listen to him complaining and spends her life trying to please him, only because I am supposed to. I should also not be pictured as a woman who dominates her better half or spanks him on his ass with a whip (bedroom play excluded). This is why my parents are hitting their 25th anniversary and I will be surprised if I ever hit my 1st.
Maybe I should be a nun, but then even that commitment to God seems patriarchal to me.
P.S- Even perfection has minute imperfections you chose to ignore. My father is the perfect husband for my mother and she chooses to ignore his anger issues by calling it his way to take out the stress from work and having an unmanageable kid like me. Also society could never make me realize that now I was a grown up lady, but today I noticed my father’s receding hairline and his massive bald spot and it kicked me brutally. Adorable him!!!!
P.P.S- The last time I was this thin was when I was in my 10th grade. Gym is my second home and sexy clothes fit me!!!
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