Every Now And Then In Indian Relationships – Love Loses Out

The heart was meant to be broken - Oscar Wilde

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I don’t know who needs to read this and who doesn’t. I don’t know why I am writing this and whether any of this will ever make a difference.

But since writing is the only deed that I excel at, apart from heartbreaks, why not? 

We were born in this world alone (until you were twins or triplets or whatever) and we will probably leave this planet in the very same way.

Afraid of darkness, afraid of being alone and afraid of not being chosen – all our lives right from the beginning we’re chasing the dream of living around people who love us, accept us and motivate us.

That part being done and dusted – we grow up – to experience the world that’s not so colorful and beautiful like we’ve been told in many yesteryear stories. We grow up to find a room that’s filled with people just like us. In that room, there’s often someone we truly believe we can call our own.

Most people wait, some quickly get into the act and then love’s all around us – blooming in every breath that we draw during our teenage and wholesome adult lives. What draws us further is very linear to our roots, background and family culture.

The Grownup talk –

One, there are people who simply give-in to their cultural norms and gracefully marry someone suitable chosen by – of course – the family.

Two, there are the miserable peeps (like me and my friend Udit) – the reason why I am writing this today post midnight.

While the first ones spend time making a gazillion memories, from the Shaadi shenanigans to the honeymoon pictures to of course making babies, our kind still revolves in the same loop. Thinking about the same tragedy of a) falling in love, b) dying in love.

Well heartbreaks, yeah that happens. That happens all the time. 

But, when it happens again and again and again – welcome to adulthood my friend. The toxic ignorant side of it. Because changing diapers is also an undesirable adult activity that I’d rather avoid for a few more years.

Next, let’s get into the toxic part!

Every relationship, especially in India, is destined to last beyond a stage if you have validation from your parents. In most cases, it is the girl’s family that is apprehensive and rightly so. Our societal parameters don’t leave that breathing space for a girl or her parents to easily approve of her relationships. Especially a romantic relationship with someone they don’t know.

In my case they did. In my case I was the best friend of 9 years trying to row her boat against every tide. We were friends and, after choosing the wrong partners for each other, soon became the closest of individuals learning how to co-exist despite the usual flaws.

We were the Jack and Rose, helping each other out of our miseries until the Titanic decided to sink. And it wasn’t an iceberg that hit us. It was the end of our promise land that sank the beautiful relationship.

Promises! Meant to be kept when the cat comes calling. After almost a decade of friendship and years of dating each other, it was time to meet the daddy. The eventual summit for almost all Indian lovers living in this complex society of ours.

D-DAY: At Cafe Coffee Day, Rohini

With the confidence of your girl in your heart and gutsy love telling you it can’t be anything but what you’re thinking, I happily chatted and met a father-figure and discussed about the future that’s been planned together (yes, we’d been to that note and age in life).

After what seemed to me the biggest scaling, came the landslide. 4 days after the fateful (or rather eventful) meet, it was all over. All the blocks of the pyramid were falling down on my face without any warning.

The end to an unknown afterlife

Sunken, depressed, anxious, low on life – call it whatever there’s no breaking point beyond something that struck you off guard. Unimaginable is that moment when new motives, new definitions are drawn to scrape off what has been growing inside this beautiful but fragile heart.

“This won’t work in the future”, she’d say to me repeatedly, as to make her own self believe first before guiding me towards the sweet, but safe, poison.

A decision she made for herself (family pressure and societal norms in the bracket) had me out of her books, forever.

“I’d take you to Old Trafford and propose you on the same ground your favourite team plays”, she’d tell me excitedly. I wonder if she holds the same excitement for her new endeavors. For the corporate life, she chose to depart me off and away.

 

Have the legs to stand tall on your promises or sit down in the same societal traps, forever. 

This is not me saying for me. This is me saying for you. This is me saying for him, he who couldn’t probably write but chose to swing from the ceiling fan. This is him being called things, just because he cried. Men mustn’t cry, they say. Well if it hurts, why not?

Eventual mutual end to a relationship or your partner cheating on you – something the world can still understand. What we shouldn’t accept, though, is someone slowly suffocating, dying and relentlessly crying for someone he/she could’ve chosen for life, yet could not.

The woman who loved you chose to go away, chose to sacrifice and adjust in the only life she’d probably get to live in human form.

What hurts the most? 

That all those memories, moments and the couplets of love (that I wrote and sang for her) faded away in front of tall ambitions, six-digit salary expectations and a few extra bucks at the end of the day.

IT ALL WENT DOWN LIKE 9/11 and I CAN’T EVEN CALL YOU OSAMA! 

Indian women (if you are reading) – please don’t let that sacred love go away because family pressure and some odd traditions get in your way.

He may have a smaller car than that Shaadi.com wala chosen one, but he will always know what needs to be done to make you smile.

To Indian fathers, (especially), uncle ladka shayad artistic ho aur aap ke manager (ideal damad) se kam paise kamata ho. But he for sure knows when your daughter felt insulted, when she was put down for being a woman and when she needs a man (who loves her) to stand by her side.

Till then – Alan Walker will play in my head every night when I go to sleep. *Where are you now?*

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