We have grown in a society where good and bad are defined by one’s looks and social status. If a girl is fair, slim, calm & composed, she is defined as a good girl and she will make a perfect bride. Well, I do not fit into anything that the definition says. I am dusky, plump and not at all composed. I have followed my heart most of the times and hence, whatever wrong happens in my life I don’t blame anyone for it. I have taken all my decisions myself, of course, my family was around to support me.
When I was 24, my parents asked me if I have chosen any partner to spend the rest of my life with. After my denial, they asked me if it is the right time to start looking for my groom. I had finished my education, I was working at a good MNC with a good package, so I thought I can start the process. My parents never burdened me with their choices or decision and so even this time I was asked for my preferences. I told my father, “You tell me first what it should be, I’ll figure out.” He told me very frankly, “He should be smart looking, he must be well behaved & he should be earning at least 3 times more than what you do.” The search started & it was difficult than I thought. I do not remember the number, but I met at least 10 boys before meeting my soulmate. I met some boys myself, but many of them were dealt with family only. I was fine with rejection because, as I said I did not fit in the definition of a good girl. But after meetings, there used to be no response from any of the boys. I was unable to understand what was wrong, I was furious at all of them, at least let me know why I am being rejected. That’s bad manners. I was depressed, I took a break from my job and then started a new one. Life stood still. My parents never told me anything, but I knew they were worried now. My father was always proud of me, he used to tell me, “I will never have to worry about you, I know you can handle yourself.” I kept this in mind and started enjoying my new job.
Meanwhile, my brother got married, during the same time my marriage got fixed. Well, he perfectly
fit into my father’s standards and my mother liked him too. Now the question haunting me was, ‘Will I be a perfect bride?’ In Maharashtrians, the bride wears a shaalufor their wedding. I told my mother, “Shaalu is too old fashioned, I am not going to wear it.” She said, “What will the groom’s family think?” It was my wedding, why was I supposed to think that. From here started my journey of becoming the imperfect bride. I was supposed to be calm and composed while talking to my future husband and his family. I couldn’t do that either. Everyone started suppressing my voice. They used to say, “All you have to do is stand there during the rituals, rest all leave upon us.” I was fine with that because the main choice of the groom was done and I was happy. I tried my best to reach up to the mark of being the perfect bride. On my D- day, my father told me, “You are my perfect daughter and I know you are going to be a perfect wife, so don’t worry about being a perfect bride. You are imperfectly perfect.”
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Me- As an imperfect bride |
Beautifully written…..
Thanks a lot.