Saturday, 18 August 2012


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!!!
P.P.P.S- Notice the new ‘Contact me’ widget on the side bar? Now you can mail me your queries or suggestions if any.


Tuesday, 14 August 2012


I happen to write this with a guilty conscience and a confused soul. I used to be the kind of person who supported the general notion that men remain rooted to a relationship until his woman hints him towards tying the nuptials. I never had a strong reason to back up my statement except for the melodramas my eyes had witnessed in movies since the time I had my mind ticking. But after licking dry the experience gathered in my 23 years of life, I have proved my hypothesis wrong.

When a relationship is true and when its depth is boundless, a man drowns in its sweet symphony and never dreams of being rescued. He goes in all lengths and fights all odds to just make it work with you. But a woman caresses her man with her unconditional love while living with the list in her mind about his faults and his shortcomings. She wants to see him grow and she wants to be a part of his growth.  She doesn’t want her Mr. Right packed and delivered but wants to be the one who manufactured him. She wants to be his mother, which later ruins their relationship.

I loved him for the man he almost was. The chemistry between us, the infinite love from both sides and his amazing virtues, made me believe that he is the one I want to invest my future on. I beautifully ignored the adjustments I was making because I was in love, pure and deep love. But my mind and my conscience revolted against my heart and pinched me now and then reminding me that adjustments where part of marriage not love affairs. Why be in a relationship when you feel guilty about it? Why force yourself to prioritize someone when you know your priority is something else.  Why settle in for the almost man for you with your adoration and your succulent love are just being a hindrance to his success. Men never grow until they are challenged and till you smother him with you adoration, he shall never grow.

Sometimes women think they don’t deserve Mr Right. I still think ‘what if I never find someone who loves me the way he did?’ or ‘what if the man I marry never trusts me the way he did?’ But now I have come to peace with this and have given the universe a chance to prove my notions wrong. I believe I deserve Mr Right and my almost man might be someone else’s Mr. Right. I was his ‘Almost woman’ for I was just slowing him down with my blind adoration. Our future just wasn’t linked.

But if only Mr. Right was as enticing as the Almost man. You my almost man will always be the one with my heart.

P.S- Sometimes I feel that I made a huge mistake, but most of the times I feel at peace for I don’t feel guilty anymore. But I don’t regret my past for it was beautiful. But I pray my future does not punish me for it.
P.P.S- “ As soon as forever is through, I will be over you” –TOTO
P.P.P.S- Not the humour post you looked forward to? Sometimes the soul needs to vent.

Thursday, 9 August 2012


There are two types of young Malayalee women. One, those who are enlisted on any or all of the various matrimony sites or Two, those who rebelled against it or are the fruits of the loins of those fathers who rebel against it. I believed myself to be the fruit of one such loin until I was proved wrong by being colourfully displayed as a ‘Simple, caring, traditional girl’ on a presumed to be a top notch matrimonial site. 

For men being on a matrimonial website is just like being on any other social networking site, except for the fact that it is mostly steered around by their parents. But for women it is like being exhibited as the best possession one can tie a knot to and drag back home from a religion and caste based market.  Now I always knew that day was near. The day on which the saga of my arranged marriage starts. The day when I join thousands of citizens belonging to the kingdom of muliebrity who have already started the search for their Mr ‘Parents & Society claim him to be’ Right. 

As soon as I crash-landed home after 5 yrs of Law University, the crickets alias the relatives started chirping. Ignoring their matters at home, everyone oiled up their eyes in anticipation for the day my parents finally notice their presumed to be mature daughter and take their first step towards the destruction of the independence their offspring was enjoying. Three weeks back, I plunged or was rather thrown with tied limbs into the world of matrimonial sites. Sandwiched between my parents and forcefully glued in front of the laptop, I was made to type my own profile with words which screamed the antonyms of my character and personality. This was going to be a serious case of ‘caveat emptor’, which in simple words meant ‘let the buyer beware and save his own ass’. My hobbies according to the site includes ‘handicrafts, pet & cooking’ and my conscious pricks me on my derriere when I remember the fact that the only craft I ever made was fake flowers made out of AMUL milk packets for the best out of waste competition during my 6th grade (bastards didn’t even provide me with a consolation prize) and also the realization that my cooking experiments have numbed several taste buds belonging to various creatures including mine. But then again, there is always time to learn, isnt it? 

Now I refuse to believe any chick who says that the idea of being on a matrimonial site never amused her. That bitch is lying! Obviously the scene is different in case of committed ladies. No matter how uninterested you claim to be you will sneak into your account just to look at how many proposals you have got till date or how many members have viewed your profile. You want to be desired or ‘want-able’ if any such word exists. You expect drool-some men to bang on your virtual door and ask your parents for your hand in marriage, even if you look like a dying hag. You can’t blame yourself since you are a woman after all. You will even indirectly provide your mother with your best photos, photoshop it a bit just to be the cream of the crowd. I too was shocked by the change of my attitude towards this whole event. Though I refused to be draped in a kanjeevaram saree and pose before the fake poster garden in a studio with my right hand resting awkwardly on a plastic pillar, I did allow them to upload a few photos of mine on the site. The first week of being on the matrimonial site was exciting since this was a whole new chapter and a new twist to my young life. This is when you should appreciate the technological advancement or even the existence of this thing called software. The site with its drop down lists shortlists the candidates according to your preference regarding religion, caste, height, weight, bank balance, food habits, drinking and smoking habits etc, and voila you have an endless list of probable grooms. 

But this excitement was short lived for the good looking men never send you proposals. After getting proposals from 12 divorcees, 10 uncles and 28 men who look like rapists, I have lost my faith on the Indian marriage system. Being on a matrimonial site is a huge mistake for you will always be bombarded with horrendous proposals. My father lost 1500 bucks to get my profile highlighted on the site so that this gem is not overlooked by the possible buyers and I on the other hand have nightmares about random men stopping me on the city streets and screaming my Matrimonial ID out instead of my name. Anyone on the matrimonial site is an established LOSER. 


P.S- You shall from now on be tortured with regular posts. Life is like a bag of potato chips and I haven’t figured out why. Sometimes you just feel like suing God!
P.P.S- Some of you mailed me while I was away. You guys are way too generous with your kind words!!
P.P.P.S- I know this post isn’t my best. I am recovering from my deep virtual slumber. So MERCY!!