Together We Can

For every girl marriage evokes mixed feelings in her heart-while she is happy and excited to be part of a new family, she is also sad to leave behind her own loved family members- her parents, siblings, grandparents, her cousins and her aunts and uncles. While some do understand the pain and anxiety of the new bride in this strenuous phase of her life and help her to adjust and cope, there are some who take pleasure in embarrassing her and making her feel awkward. The only person that the bride is most comfortable with and expects to be at her side is her husband. And it’s the husband’s responsibility to ensure that his wife does not feel ill at ease in her new home.

Mine was an arranged marriage and my husband has a large extended family. When people joked and said that it would take at least a year to get to know all the members of my in-law’s family, I could feel my apprehension growing. My own family is a small but well-knit one and I was not really proud of my nonexistent social skills. I’m what you’d call as an introvert but I decided to keep my best foot forward and make an effort to please my in-laws by getting along with all.

After my wedding I bid a tearful adieu to my family and started my journey towards my new home. I sat with my husband as all his relatives came and introduced themselves. I tried to remember their names and how they were related to my husband. There was this lady, who was a close relative and while everyone was being extra nice to me, this lady started making snide remarks. She kept taunting me with a smile on her face. I tried to ignore her remarks in the beginning but after a while it started getting on my nerves.

Next morning there was pooja arranged in my new home and unfortunately this lady volunteered to help me get ready.  She started insulting my family by remarking on the poor quality of my saris and jewellery. That’s when things went beyond my tolerance level and we exchanged few words. I was really hurt because I didn’t know what I had done to antagonize her. When I talked to my husband about it, he said not to worry about it and not to react back. I was really disappointed and upset because I had expected my husband to stand up for me. I was silent and withdrawn for the next few days and if people realized it, they did not comment.

After few days my husband and I had to visit my family to complete a wedding ritual. I was happy and eager to be welcomed back with open arms. When I saw my mother, I couldn’t control the tears that welled up in my eyes. I chatted with my cousins like we had been separated for years. My brothers recalled all the funny incidents of our childhood that helped me lighten up. I felt my worries giving away with laughter and the fun that I was having. It was a perfect day and with the love and warmth that I received from my family I felt my strength and resolve returning.

In the evening we all went to the beach where I had spent many of my childhood evenings. My mother pulled me aside and asked me how I was doing in my new home. I confessed about my predicament and explained the hurt I had felt when my husband hadn’t supported me. My mother then advised me that the key to a successful marriage was communication and mutual trust and respect. She explained that it was normal to feel awkward in the initial phases of marriage but with time I’d feel as comfortable with my husband’s family as I was with my own.

Her wise words put me at ease and I vowed to be patient and strong. That day I spent with my family remains etched in my memory because I realized the importance of love, support and acceptance. The day that I spent laughing and having fun relaxed me during a turbulent phase and made me understand that life is a bed of roses and thorns and the bad days are needed for us to appreciate the good moments. 

https://housing.com/

Pre-Marital Sex: Right or Wrong

Sex is a taboo topic in India and although ours is the land of Kamasutra and erotic temples of Khajuraho, we still change channels on our television when so much as a passionate hug is shared between a boy and a girl in a movie. Isn’t it an irony then that our forefathers were so progressive and liberal while in the present century of advanced technology and contemporary thoughts, sex is only talked in hushed tones behind closed doors?

There is too much emphasis given on sex, after all it’s just a natural act of coupling. But right from childhood, the act of sex is correlated with righteousness. We are taught to believe that anything related to sex, before one’s marriage, is considered to be wrong. And if you are a girl in Indian society then you have to preserve your virginity, like a precious jewel, until the time you get married to your prince charming. Never mind if your prince charming is an ugly toad, whose number of sexual experiences exceed the combined sum of his and your age. But a bride who does not bleed on her first night? Oh no, she is a slut alright!

Source-

http://talkingbrian.com/

I realize that I am writing bluntly and candidly but enough of dodging and sidestepping on the topic of sex. When a child grows into his/her adolescent years it is but natural for him/her to be curious about the opposite sex and take an interest in finding about what all the fuss is about sex. And when adults try to suppress their curiosity and conceal the truth, their inquisitiveness only increases. They then turn to other modes of information like friends with half-baked knowledge or porn or internet. Instead why not tell them the truth, I know it is not easy as it sounds and things can become awkward. But isn’t it better that your kids get the information from you rather than from improper and unreliable sources?

Too much of importance is given to celibacy before marriage in Indian society. Our society frowns upon a girl who moves around with boys or a girl who has a boyfriend before marriage. Pestering aunties with wagging tongues are quick to criticize a girl who wears western clothes and comes home late in the night. But after marriage the same girl is supposed to share her body with a stranger whom she has barely known for a few months. Isn’t it absurd? All her life her parents and society has drilled the thought in her that strangers are dangerous and now she is supposed to sleep with a stranger? No wonder Indian women are confused and depressed!

Source- http://www.burnabrain.com/

I find nothing wrong with pre-marital sex as long as it involves two consenting adults and safe sex methods are practiced. After all, I think, a boy or a girl above 18 years of age knows what physical relationship is about. And if they don’t, then again this is why sex education is important and the need of this generation. When your son or daughter reaches adolescence it is impossible to restrict them from meeting people and naturally they are attracted to members of opposite sex. But what you can do as responsible parents is, empower them with knowledge and trust them to take a right decision.

Things do turn into mess and chaos when a man and a woman engage in a physical relationship and then maybe their engagement breaks off or their relationship does not culminate in a marriage. But really in this fickle age where nothing stays the same forever, it is but foolish to have pre-marital sex if you are not fully prepared and well aware of the consequences.

Source-http://time4thinkers.com/

Of course our society is slowly progressing in thoughts and quietly accepting single parents or children born out of wedlock. It’s quite common to see couples in live in relationships in cities. But I guess a lot has to change in rural villages where a new bride’s mother-in-law still inspects for blood on the white bed linen used for her son’s first night after his nuptials.

When it comes to pre-marital sex, there is no right or wrong. It is an individual’s decision. As long as the people involved in casual sex are fully aware of what they are getting into, I don’t see why a third person gets a say! What I do think is wrong, is when a man who is regular customer in the red light areas and has been treated multiple times for STDs expects his bride to be a virgin.

The debate on pre-marital sex can be never ending and there is a thin line between what is right and wrong but I completely believe that it’s an individual’s perspective. Prohibiting or forbidding someone from having sex will only lead to aggression and defiance.

I do love reading books centered on strong women who have gone against society’s diktat and in fact I am currently reading the latest book from Preethi Shenoy where the female character has a child out of wedlock. Another promising and interesting book based on a mystical true love story is Poonaam Uppal’s “A Passionaate Gospel of True Love : A Mystical True Love Story”. The story is based on a lead character Moh Lal Rai, who embarks on a journey to find her ancient lover and her true love and accidentally unlocks the, extinct, cryptic most guarded secret 'Ancient Art of True Love'. Sounds baffling? Do read more about the story here and let me know your opinion on pre-marital sex in the comments section.

This post was written for "Yes or No to Pre-Marital Sex" contest hosted by Indiblogger.

The Touch Of Love- #BringBackTheTouch

As I sat in the open restaurant of Rennome in Prague, I gazed at the few couples cuddling cozily under the awning near the idyllic river Vltava, flowing subtly and gently in the cold February night. The  weather was perfect and the soft music floating in the air heightened the charm of the dulcet evening. I looked at Varun seated across me and talking animatedly on the phone, probably to someone in his office at India. This was supposed to be our 5^th wedding anniversary vacation. But ever since we got here Varun had been constantly on the phone or the laptop, trying to seal a multimillion dollar deal with another conglomerate.

Source- stockarch.com

I berated myself for agreeing to come for the trip. I knew that this would happen, after all I had plenty of experience from the past few dismal years of our marriage. Varun was the CEO of their family business that had expanded it's reach to several industries. Being a successful and a high-powered business man had its own perks but unfortunately finding time to spend with one’s own wife was not a part of it.

I sighed as I pushed away the plate containing delicacies that promised to titillate even the drabbest palate. I was not interested in the food or the ambiance that exuded love, warmth and passion. How did our marriage decay into apathy and indifference? Had Varun and I drifted so apart that it was impossible to even salvage the last vestiges of our marriage?

I looked at Varun’s handsome face that were now lined with deep frowns and the few silver hairs that gave him a more distinguished look. My memory took me back a few years, to the early days of our marriage, when we were still enamored with each other and we couldn’t get enough of each other. During the day, when Varun was at work and I was in the house, we waited eagerly for dusk when we could be together.

We just couldn’t keep our hands off each other and I remembered, with a smile on my lips, how Varun would hold my hands beneath the table when our whole family was having dinner. I remembered his touch that could quicken my breath and make me melt in his arms passionately. Where did those days go? I missed his touch so much. How is that Varun, who used to be so perceptive to my feelings, now felt distant and cold.

Varun looked into my eyes that were already brimming with unshed tears. He quickly disconnected the call.

“Meera, I am so sorry. I have been on the phone for so long but this mess in our office has to be sorted out”, he said reaching for the glass of champagne.

“It’s ok Varun. This is not the first time you have ignored me because of your work and I am sure it won’t be the last too”, I replied, my tone more caustic than I had intended.

Varun’s hands froze and he looked at my face. All though I had been suffering silently, I had never voiced my feelings, in the hope that Varun would change. But I guess that was never going to happen.

“What’s wrong Meera? You seem upset”, Varun said reaching for my trembling hands on the table.

I withdrew my hand before he could touch it.

“I am tired of waiting for you Varun. All you care for is your work and your company. When was the last time you held my hand? When was the last time you said you loved me? When was the last time we kissed? I cannot pretend to be in a marriage that is shallow and meaningless. It takes two people to be in a relationship and if you cannot be there for me, I guess it’s better to be separated”.

By the time I finished speaking , my words were coming in short spurts and my face was streaked with tears.

Varun quickly came to my side and held me in his arms.

“Meera I am sorry. I really am. I know I have been occupied with my work but it does not mean that I have stopped loving you. You are right. I have not been spending enough time with you. But please don’t talk about going separate ways. You are my pillar of support. Without you I cannot even think of a life that’s worth living. Please, can you forgive me?”

I buried my face in his shoulders as we hugged for an eternity. Our intimate moment came to an abrupt halt when Varun’s phone started ringing. He switched his phone off and stood up.

“Now, my beautiful wife, would you care to join me for a walk”, Varun asked extending his hand.

As I smiled radiantly and placed my hand in his, I knew that my Varun was back. The touch that had ignited my love for him had been rekindled. 

This post was written for #BringBackTheTouch contest sponsored by  http://www.pblskin.com/ at Indiblogger

Love

I tried so hard to convince myself that

Love is not everything in life.

I looked around and saw millions of people living a loveless life

And yet they appeared to be perfectly happy.

And then my eyes fell on the wet pillow soaked with my tears,

I remembered those lonely nights when my arms reached out to hug you but all I found is an empty space.

And I realized that love is not everything,

But without love, without you, life is nothing.

It's a Small World!

I was running behind my two year old son, who was galloping around in the wedding hall, trying to play tag with his uncooperative mother. My eyes were glued on the little tyke, praying fervently that he did not hurt himself, when I dashed against the broad shoulders of a man. I lost my balance and my eyes scrunched tightly shut, I braced myself for the impact of the fall on my back. But the fall never came. Instead I found myself in the long and sturdy arms of the man, whose shoulders, I may have caused some serious damage.

I opened my eyes to profusely thank the stranger but I found myself staring into a pair of familiar dark brown eyes that crinkled in amusement. Time stopped for me, the loud cacophony around me fell silent, and the hundreds of people who had come to bless the newly wedded ceased to exist for me. It was just me and him. I remembered the last time I had seen him, it was the day my dreams had come crashing down, the day I wanted to die, the day I realized that life could be brutally unfair.

“Raksha, instead of just drooling over him, why don’t you over there, and speak to him?” Neeta asked exasperated.

“But what will I tell him?” I asked eyeing Vikram and sighing longingly.

“Well, you can begin by telling him that you love him. That you have loved him for the past 3 years. That every damn day in class, you sit behind him and watch him instead of paying attention to the lecture. That you have never missed watching a cricket match that he was playing in. That you secretly write love letters to him but never post it.”

I gasped at the last sentence. “How do you know that? I never showed you those letters.”

“The last time I came to your house, your cupboard was open and I was just curious”, replied Neeta a tad guilty.

“You have been pining after him for so many years. It’s time to confess your feelings for him”, Neeta prodded on.

Suddenly, the object of my fervent desire, Vikram Mehta, turned to look at us. We quickly lowered our gazes and pretended to be engrossed in the boring book in front of us. When we dared to look at him again, he was walking out of the library with a swagger that made me swoon. Vikram was undeniably one of the good-looking boys in our college. This, combined with the fact that he was the cricket team captain and son of the richest industrialist in town, made him extremely popular in the campus. And I fell in love with him the instant my eyes set on his dark brown ones’. 

I knew that a plain Jane like me could never make a popular boy like Vikram, my boyfriend. I still pined for him, I followed him like a lost puppy, I dreamed of being pinned against him and kissing him feverishly. But I could not muster enough courage to even say a ‘hi’ to him.

That night as I lay in my bed, thinking about my conversation with Neeta, my friend, I realized that she had been right. In few weeks’ time we would be graduating from college, and after that I wouldn’t be able to meet Vikram ever. I decided that I would tell him about how I felt, he may laugh at me, he may reject my proposal but at least I would get it off my chest. I decided that I would propose Vikram on the last day of college, during the graduation party, that our juniors were hosting for us.

Just before the party, I smoothed down my burgundy gown that I had borrowed from Neeta. Neeta’s family was well to do and she could afford to spend her pocket money on such exquisite gowns. My father would have fainted just looking at the price tag on the dress. Again I was reminded of the huge difference between me and Vikram, but I brushed it aside quickly. I didn’t want to discourage myself. Today I was going to pour my heart out to my sweetheart.

As I entered the party venue I could see a lot of young boys and girls dancing close to each other. Slow music was playing in the background. Oh, how I wished that I and Vikram could dance like that- wrapped to each other and drowned in our love. I found Vikram on the dance floor, but he was with a girl. My heart stopped and I felt the world spinning  around me as Vikram enclosed the girl in his arms and planted a kiss on her lips.

As Vikram raised his head after the long, wet kiss I could see that the girl was Neeta. I was in shock and I could feel the hot tears stinging my cheeks. I wanted to scream, I wanted to hit Neeta, I wanted an explanation, but I stood rooted to the spot. 

Neeta saw me and came rushing to me.

“Raksha, can you believe Vikram proposed to me? He asked me to marry him.” she gushed.

“How can you do it, Neeta? You know very well that I love him.” I cried ignoring the stares that we were receiving for creating a scene.

“Oh, come on, Raksha. What you had for him was just a crush. Did you seriously believe that you had a chance with him? Vikram and I have the same status level and we mingle in a similar society. We are a perfect match. And you? Well let’s say that Vikram never noticed you in the 3 years that you followed him like a dog.”

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I ran and ran, till I reached my home and threw myself on the bed. I howled, I cried, I shouted at myself for being so stupid. I didn’t know what hurt me more, the fact that I had lost my first love or the fact that my best friend had betrayed me and left me shattered.

Over the years I slowly forgot the pain and hurt. I prayed that I would never meet Vikram or Neeta again, but life had other plans. It’s a small world and after 10 years, here I was, face to face with Vikram again.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” he asked as I straightened. 

“Err, yeah, we studied in the same college. I’m Neeta’s friend.” I realized that age had not been lenient with Vikram. Except for a patch of hair on the back of his head, he was bald. He looked haggard and there were huge bags under his eyes. His fit and trim figure had gone mellow and he had an ungainly paunch.

“Ah, Neeta! We separated a few years back. An ugly divorce, if I have to say! I’m glad that I managed to shake that blood sucking parasite off my back.”

I winced at his words.

“I’m sorry, but things were nasty with us, and now I’m just happy that I got rid of her.”

There was an awkward pause between us and in that fraction of a second I realized I was happy that I had not proposed to Vikram. I was glad that I had never been a part of his life. I was relieved. I felt liberated as if I had been freed from a huge burden that I had been carrying from a long time.

“I have to go but I must mention that you look lovely. Wish I had fallen for a girl like you back in college!” Vikram shook my hand as I smiled at his comment.

 I was still smiling when my husband surprised me by sneaking behind me and wrapping his arms around me. I looked at his tall, trim and handsome figure with few gray hairs that added to his charm. We smiled as our eyes spoke volumes of the love that we shared. Life was good again!

This post is written for Wednesday Prompt at Write Tribe. The prompt 'It's a small world'  is provided by Shilpa Garg 

My Platinum Day Of Love

August, 2009

I collapsed on the couch after a strenuous day of work at office. My mother promptly offered a piping hot cup of tea and my favorite cauliflower pakodas.  ‘Gosh! Aren’t mothers the best?’, I wondered as I hungrily wolfed downed the pakodas.

“Shreya, there is a proposal that came today. The boy lives in Bangalore and works in an IT company but his parents are from Belgaum. He’s sent his email id. Can you please send your photo along with your details to him”, my mother asked as she passed the TV remote to me.

‘Damn! I knew there was a catch.’ So the royal treatment was just to butter me up before bringing the machete down. Slash!

This was nothing new anyways. My mother was aggressively searching for her son-in-law for the past 2 years and distributing my photo and horoscope to all and sundry. But the guys whom I “met for marriage” were either too short, too tall, showed too much interest in my paycheck, were too attached to their mother or were just plain psychos (some).  I just wanted someone decent, someone kind. Someone who would allow me, to be me, and that would mean accepting me as I am, with my faults and phobias. Someone who wouldn’t force his views on me, someone who would understand that a wife is not someone’s slave, that she has a life of her own, an individuality of her own. I was not asking for too much, was I? And yeah I wanted my husband to know cooking because I knew that no matter how many years I toiled in the kitchen, I could never cook to save my life.

So I was not overly excited when my mother announced this arrival of a new proposal. In my heart I already saw it as doomed or failed. I just nodded my head and continued eating my pakodas.

Next Day

As soon as I reached office I received a call from my mom.

“Don’t forget to send your photo. Send it now. You’ll forget about it later.”

I rolled my eyes but agreed to send the snap. The snap which had me covered in a sari, looking demurely at the camera, had me in giggles. Of course I was nothing like that in real life but the photographer had gone a little overboard with the Photoshop trying to make me look fair and graceful. It was a herculean task I admitted, to make me look “marriage material”.

The Photoshopped Photo

A few minutes later I received an email from Eshan Bhat. Yes, he was the guy whose proposal I had received the previous day.

“ThanQ for sending your photo. Here is mine”.

‘That was a short and crisp reply’ I thought, as I clicked the photo attached along with his mail.

A guy in a pink shirt, with light eyes, fair skin and cleft chin stared at me from my computer monitor. ‘Not bad at all’, I contemplated. I was particularly amused by his shorter version of Thank You.

I quickly logged into my Orkut account (FB hadn’t caught on then) and searched for Eshan Bhat.  He liked traveling, as was evident from his photos taken along with his friends in various cities in India. There were a few testimonies that proclaimed that his poetry had garnered appreciation from his friends.

Oh, a creative guy, just like me, I wondered. My hopes were rising. Was this guy, ‘The One’ then?

A few minutes later, I received another email in which his phone number was given.

“I would like to talk to you.  If you don’t mind would you please pass on your phone number?”

I hesitated for a while before sending him an email with my phone number.

I immediately received a call.

“Hello”

“Hi”

We were at a loss of words, not knowing what to speak. It was an awkward pause.

“This is kind of awkward.  Let me go first.  I completed my MCA in Belgaum and I have been working in Ardent Technologies for last 4 years.  I have 2 elder brothers, both are married.  I am currently living in Bangalore with few of my colleagues. I like to travel, watch movies and sometimes I play cricket with friends.” he blurted out as if he was in a job interview.

I almost laughed.

“Ok, I am currently working for a software company in Mangalore. I completed my Bachelor of Engineering in Electronics branch. I like to watch movies too.” I replied in a pleasant voice.

“You have a beautiful voice”, he said as my heart leapt.

No one had complimented on my voice till date, although I had wished a thousand times for a mellifluous tone as I sang slightly off key. And here he was a saying that my voice was beautiful. I could have wept with joy.

“Thank you” I said demurely. Now I was acting all coy and shy. What had come over me?

We spoke some more and by the end of our conversation I liked the guy.  He was a gentleman, he knew how to speak to a girl and when I mentioned that I was not the quintessential traditional Indian girl, he said that he didn’t expect me to be.

That evening, when I reached home my mother waited patiently with a plate of my favorite Maggi noodles, looking at me anxiously and expectantly.

I smiled and nodded. My mother’s face lit up. She came and hugged me, kissing my forehead. My mother then proceeded to call our family priest, requesting him to match our horoscopes. Of course Indian arranged marriages are never complete without the horoscope matching. I found myself crossing my fingers, as for the first time since my mother started the groom hunt, I hoped that things would work out.

The results were announced next day. Our horoscopes matched. We had the green signal from the astrologer.

Eshan and I spoke regularly over the phone. We talked earnestly about our likes and dislikes. I confided that I’m a bad cook and that my preferred choice of dressing was jeans and t-shirts and I was not very spiritual. In fact I rarely went to temples except for some occasions. We had heart-to-heart talks where we discussed for hours together, much to the amusement of our friends.

And finally a week later my mother received a call from Eshan’s parents. They had invited our family to their house. This meant that things were serious, that maybe this was for real. Maybe, I and Eshan would be husband and wife.

The day we were to meet his family, I chose to wear a simple cotton salwar. My relatives were aghast. They insisted that I wear Sari since this would be first time his family would see me. But I refused steadfastly. I was not comfortable in a Sari and I wanted to be me. If Eshan’s family accepted me, then it would be as I am. I was adamant that I wouldn’t change for anything.

And when we arrived, his mom was amused to find me in salwar but to his family’s credit they didn’t utter a word. They accepted me with open arms and I was on cloud nine. His brothers and parents went out of their way to make us feel at ease.

There were a few embarrassing relatives who wanted to click our photos together and we had to pose awkwardly. Eshan took me away for some time and we went to an ice-cream shop. He had remembered that I loved eating ice-creams and they were my weakness. I was pleased that he remembered.

The Awkward Photo with the awkward pose

The date for marriage was fixed by the elders after consultation with the priest. Eshan and I would be declared as man and wife on December 11th, 2009.

December 11, 2009.

It was a bright, warm day and my eyes were still closed as the beautician looped a large garland of jasmines around my hair, tied into a neat braid. I couldn’t believe that I was getting married as early as 8 AM, which meant that I had to be up at 4 AM. Damn the priest! I asked my cousin to get me a cup of strong tea or a bottle of vodka. Anything that would wake me up. I didn’t want to sleep when Eshan tied the Mangalsutra around my neck.

After few hours of the beautician toiling over me, I looked at my reflection in the mirror and I was surprised. I looked like a bride. I actually looked like a bride! The reality hit me hard. I was going to be married.

Would Eshan and I live happily? Will we fight? Will we fall in love eventually? Because all though I liked and respected Eshan, I didn’t think that I was in love with him. But that was ok. I knew that in arranged marriages, love comes later, maybe some years after the marriage. It was enough for me that we liked each other and believed that we could live together happily.

The marriage was a strenuous affair, with relatives wanting to wish you, with the priests wanting you to be serious about the different rituals, and the cousins who kept teasing you incessantly even though you didn’t find their jokes funny. I promised myself that I would never ever get married again and laughed at that thought. Eshan looked at me weirdly thinking that maybe he had got married to a lunatic.

The wedding album

Finally the marriage got over and it was soon time for husband and wife to head to their honeymoon. Eshan had booked us for a Shimla-Manali honeymoon package. Throughout our flight to Delhi, we were holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes. It was the most romantic moment of my life. Amidst the clouds, high up in air, I was cocooned by the soft warmth of his arms. I decided that marriage was bliss.

As soon as we reached the Delhi airport, the cab driver called Eshan’s phone.

“Hello Saab, aap kahan ho? Main airport main hoon”

“Hum airport main hain… Tum.. Tum..”, he faltered not able to talk further.

Eshan looked at me and asked, “Hey can you speak Hindi? My Hindi is not fluent.” He passed the phone to me and I gave directions to the driver.

“You said you liked watching movies, but you don’t know how to converse in Hindi?” I asked Eshan when we were seated in the cab.

"I watch Kannada movies. I don’t usually watch Hindi films since I don’t understand the dialogues”, he explained.

“Ohhhh… I see” Alarm bells were ringing in my head. I loved Hindi movies. In fact I have been fed with our Masala Bollywood movies ever since my childhood. How would I watch movies with Eshan if he didn’t understand Hindi? I forced myself to remain calm. Of course I was acting silly, these minor things didn’t matter. Eshan could always learn a new language or maybe he wouldn’t mind accompanying me to a movie which he didn’t understand.

We enjoyed the beautiful scenery as the car zoomed past the green fields of Punjab on the way to Shimla. I slipped into my dream where Eshan, clad in a leather jacket, opened his arms and I ran in slow motion into his arms and then we hugged each other passionately.

The Honeymoon album

Soon it was time for lunch. The climate was cold and I wanted to eat something spicy and hot. I ordered phulkas and Egg Masala for myself. Eshan looked at me surprised.

“Hey, you eat Egg?”

“Yeah, of course. I mean I don’t eat it at home, but whenever I’m outside I like ordering Egg dishes. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh ok. I was surprised, you know, being a Brahmin, you eat egg. Do you eat fish and chicken too?” he asked cautiously.

“No, I don’t. It’s nothing to fret about. I know a lot of Brahmins who hog non-vegetarian food too. Caste or religion shouldn’t inhibit you from doing something you like, right?” I explained patiently.

“Uh-huh. It’s just that my family is kind of orthodox, so please don’t mention this to them, ok?”

I wanted to talk, but I knew that it would lead to an argument and I wanted to avoid it. The fact is, I didn’t have a conventional upbringing. My parents allowed me to choose the lifestyle that I wanted. They gave me independence, trusting my choices and knowing that eventually I would learn from my own mistakes.

Eshan was quite on the ride to Shimla. When we reached Shimla, we ordered dinner and even though I was dying to have some alcohol inside me, I forbid myself to do it. I didn’t want Eshan running back for his life. I had shocked him with my egg-eating episode. I never knew that Eshan was unadventurous. I mean what was the big deal if I liked eating eggs.

That night I was woken up by loud and deep snorting kind of sound. I woke up with a fright, thinking that someone had broken into our room. And that’s when I realized that the sound was Eshan snoring.  I had never heard anyone snoring so loudly. I tred sleeping with my ears covered, I tried to mentally block the sounds, but sleep evaded me. I was a light sleeper. A  gentle sound was enough to rouse me from my deep sleep.

I realized that no matter for how many years we knew a person, we come to know about his habits, about his behavior, about the small things that irritated you, only after you started living with him. Maybe Eshan and I should have had a live-in relationship before marriage. I giggled as I imagined Eshan having a heart-attack when I mentioned this to him. I remembered to keep my liberal and contemporary thoughts to myself.

The next day I woke up with a slight headache and a little bit annoyed. I had had no sleep, thanks to Eshan’s loud snoring.

When I mentioned this to Eshan, he looked perplexed.

“Oh, did I snore? I do that only when I’m tired.” He explained.

Ok, so I had to be ready for sleepless nights I warned myself. We went to Kufri that morning. On the way to Kufri, I felt restless. Somehow I felt that my married life had not started on a right note. Eshan and I kept discovering little things about each other that irritated us. I was sure Eshan had the same thoughts, because he looked distant and lost.

At Kufri, our guide took us on a trek to the mountains. We had mounted different horses which were steered by two small boys. My horse seemed a little jumpy but the boy next to my horse assured me that I had nothing to worry.

15 minutes into our trek and my horse bolted. It ran straight up the hills. I was terrified and started shouting for help. My guide had fallen when the horse ran away. I held the reigns tightly and tried not to fall off. It was the most horrifying moment of my life. I was rushing past trees and people. The low lying branches scraped at my face and I was too scared to let go off the reigns and cover my face.

I kept shouting and yelling. Suddenly I heard another horse riding beside mine, trying to catch up with my horse. I didn’t dare turn my head, but I guessed that it must be the owner of the horse Eshan was riding on. I just hoped that he would save me. I envisaged Eshan as a widower, grieving the death of his wife of few days. Would he get married again? I didn’t want to die. I wanted to have a happy life with Eshan, even if that meant sleepless nights. I wanted to be in his arms, be comforted by him. I loved him and I wanted to tell that to him. I wanted to kiss him, one last kiss before this stupid horse hurtled me to my death.

It was the platinum moment of love for me, the moment when I realized what Eshan meant to me, when I realized that I didn’t love Eshan despite his faults. I loved him for all his faults. I wouldn’t want to change even one thing about him. How I wished that I could tell him all these things now.

I realized that my horse had slowed down. I looked at the person who was now riding beside me and holding the reigns of my horse and taking control.

“Are you alright Shreya?  You look so pale”, Eshan took me in his arms and delicately lifted me down from the horse.

It was Eshan who had come to my rescue. It was he who had saved my life while risking his.

“I didn’t know you ride horses too.” I was shaking like a leaf but I felt better, now that I was enclosed in Eshan’s arms.

He didn’t let me go. “Shreya, I was so frightened. I had taken couple of horse riding classes when I was in college. I was so scared of losing you. I don’t want to let you go. I love you Shreya. I’ll always love you till death does us apart and even after that”

I beamed up at Eshan. This was our platinum day of love when we understood that no marriage is perfect, no spouse is perfect. What made us perfect are the small moments of love, when we realize that the person standing beside you and squashing you with his bear hug, is the person you can’t live without. That your life is beautiful because of his presence and you love him so much that you miss his snores when you spend even one night away from him.

Eshan and Shreya with their little one after 4 years of their marriage :)

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. :-)

 This post is written for Platinum Day of Love Contest at Indiblogger