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I am married to a man who knows only how to bow to his mother's wishes, who needs to take his mother's permission even to enter his wife's bedroom.
I am married to a man who knows only how to bow to his mother’s wishes, who needs to take his mother’s permission even to enter his wife’s bedroom.
These are just my feelings and many may not agree with that I am writing about this, but this time, I don’t care!
“Kaash maine bhi pyaar kar liya hota, maine bhi thoda lad liya hota, aaj lagta to ki maine bhi kuch kiya!!” (If only I had tried, if I had fallen in love, if I had fought for it, I might have felt I had really done something!)
Growing up in a city where girls had boyfriends even in the 5th std, I was always single, even in college, and later when I started working. I guess it was just a promise I made to my mother, that they would let me live my life if I let them choose my life partner. I guess that was my mom trying to make me a ‘sanskari beti’, and unfortunately I agreed.
I was given all the freedom they could give to their daughter, except for that one thing. Growing up I was a tomboy, and even when I started working I was not into makeup and stuff, and I had lot of guy friends but never a boy friend.
I am married to a man who knows only how to bow to his mother’s wishes, who needs to take his mother’s permission even to enter his wife’s bedroom. Yes, you heard it right, wife’s bedroom, because he stays in his mother’s room. He needs her permission even to lock his door when with his wife.
I am not living in a village with regressive practices, both of us are educated and working, but we live with a dominating woman.
This is not about her though, this is about LOVE, the word that I had only read about, the word that was supposed to mean something, that was supposed to be special.
Sometimes I really regret agreeing to my mother’s condition, I wish I hadn’t. I am sure there was a good chance I would have ended with someone worse than this, but at least I would know that it was my own fault.
Today I am all alone, the man who was supposed to be my support system, the man who would have been the one is just a rubber stamp in his mother’s hands and I am nothing more than a doormat outside their house. I cannot say that if I had chosen to love someone, he would have been better, but at least I would be prepared to deal with it and I would be able to talk, maybe even express my feelings rather than now writing here.
I don’t believe in love anymore, it’s stupid, nothing more than a fairy tale. 5 years of marriage and 2 years of counselling and I am still where I had started, tired and alone.
My mother who sent me to my in laws’ place after marriage is no longer allowed to contact me. I don’t really mind it much because every time I talk to her, I lie that I am happy, when I really am dying from inside. She knows this, but she also acts like everything is okay. Well I guess in search of love from my life partner I even lost the love I had for my family, because how much ever I try not to I do blame them for my condition.
Is marriage just meant for the girl to lose her family, her dreams, her goals, basically to give up her life, and be at the beck and call of the man she married? Because calling him a life partner certainly seems like an insult to the words ‘life partner’.
It’s not to scare anyone, but I really feel if I would have loved at least I would know what love means, at least I would have found my definition of love. But now I only know that love asks for sacrifice, and there is just a dark bottomless pit in which you will fall. The only way out is really difficult, and the more I wait the more I am going deeper down in that pit, and the harder it would be to get out.
I lost myself, but if by writing this I can save at least one girl from ending up like me, I would consider that it was worth something.
“Koi nahi hai dushman apna, phir bhi pareshan hoon, apne kyun de rahe hai zakhm iss baat se hairan hoon.” (I have no enemy yet I am troubled; I’m distressed by the fact that my own people are hurting me”)
Image source: AmnaS on pixabay
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