#CelebrateingtheRainbow at the workplace – share your stories of Pride!
It took us years learning from each other, and putting the other one first.
Our marriage is as flawed as yours. We have had our share of fights and misunderstandings. There are times when we both will be mad at each other, and not see eye to eye. There was a time when I felt stuck in the marriage, and was looking for a way out. He too felt stuck, and wandered out.
He’s not perfect, nor am I.
He couldn’t cook anything other than Maggi when we got married. He still can’t cook a proper meal.
The laundry, the utensils, the food and home are still my responsibility. You may say, I am regressive, but no what I believe in is a teamwork. Husband and wife are a team, and each does what they are best at. Just like we share responsibilities in a team at our respective workplaces.
I mess up with finances, and don’t know the best saving options.
When we married, we could not stand each other’s parents, and found flaws on either side.
15 years later, we are still in marriage and happily so. We no longer try to fix each other, but try to fix self first. We try to complement each other and work hand in hand. At times, we do not blend but we gladly accept the differences and move on.
Though he can’t cook a meal, but he slowly took charge of the breakfast, and now makes yummier omelettes, and dosas too. I have forgotten how to make a proper tea, as daily I test new flavours of tea from around the world. If I remind him to put clothes for drying, or make up the bed, he gladly does so. Once in a while, seeing me manage both home and work, he reminds me that he’s my deputy at home, and is waiting to take my orders.
We have two sets of parents and both are our combined responsibility.
He reminds me to put money in saving when the salary comes. He encourages me to save for myself, so that I can withstand a rainy day. He reminds me when my premiums are due. Even though I drive the car, he keeps a track of the servicing and the repairs.
All this didn’t happen in a day. It took us years learning from each other, and putting the other one first.
We are not different from any other couple, yet we choose to stay and work out our differences. Even when the things went wrong, we reminded each other of why we first fell in love. We rekindled love Every time we fell apart. We choose each other over every thing else. We became selective in our battles, and ignore the ones which didn’t matter.
What is love?
It’s not just the superficial attraction which fades away once the honeymoon ends.
Love is in understanding, love is in care. Love is in the million little things you do for each other and not in big gestures. Love is in that mutual respect.
Like every newly married couple, we too fell for the Bollywood romance, and got dissatisfied when we had to deal with real life. Like any other feminist, I too had notions, that he should be sharing equal at the home front, and when he didn’t I felt disillusioned.
However, when we fell apart we picked up where we went wrong. He started helping me little by little. Each day, a small step. I started accepting his baby steps and he started ignoring my grumblings.
What the woman of our generation forget is that, the men we married were raised by females who gladly took to working outside while maintaining the home equation without any changes. The sons, were still raised as princes. For them working outside homes was an achievement, which we take for granted. Of course, we are not wrong in demanding, equality at home, but it comes slowly, each woman grooming the one she married, and each husband slowly adjusting to this change from mother to wife.
Today, being mother of a single son, I do not let my son go scott free. He’s just 11 and I do give him chores to make him realize that it’s not just Mama’s job. I don’t want him to look for a wife, who would cook and clean, but I want him to look for a wife, whom he would love and who would love him in return.
Image via Pixabay
A vagabond ! A lost soul !
A blank page trying to write my own story!
By profession, I am a Pathologist ! A doctor behind the scenes. By passion, I am a blogger. I love reading, writing, read more...
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Can you believe this bloke compelled me to wear only saris - full time at home- till the eighth month of my pregnancy?! The excessive heat coupled with humidity made my life miserable.
Recently when I browsed an interesting post by a fellow author on this very forum I had a sense of déjà vu. She describes the absolutely unnecessary hullabaloo over ladies donning nighties and /or dupatta –less suits.
I wish to narrate how I was in dire straits so far wearing a ‘nightie’ was concerned.
I lived in my ultra orthodox sasural under constant surveillance of two moral guardians (read Taliban) in the shape of the husband’s mom and dad. The mom was unschooled and dim-witted while the dad was a medical practitioner. But he out-Heroded the Herod in orthodoxy.
Her mother pulled her hand and made her sit on the bed. “How can you behave like nothing happened, dear? Your whole life is ruined now!”
Trigger Warning: Implications of rape and assault and suicidal ideation.
“Come with me, my love.” His charming smile and mesmerizing eyes would lead anyone to walk behind him. She was different. “You need me Sirisha,” he was desperate.
“I said, get out,” she stood stubbornly.
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