At times, you find yourself on a
service road, one which is under those flyovers. And at most times, on this
service lane, at the junction right before a flyover ends, you are caught at that
ending in traffic. Bad, gruesome traffic, the one that creeps at turtle’s pace
with barely any space to move and only half a foot on the pedal, cause even
though you might be moving at cautious pace, if you don’t cover any inch of
space available in front of you, you’d have the wrath of the traffic besides
you rain down on you with all the pressure, ‘honking’ly possible. So even in
that marginal space, with nothing at all to go left or right, you keep trudging
along in a linear, scale straight, undeviating line… in the least disheartening
way possible, I feel I am living on this service road under the flyover right
now.
I turned 30 a couple of weeks
ago. I have always thought of and proclaimed age to be nothing ‘but a number’,
something with absolutely no bearing on my mood and minimal effects on my
“youth”. I am one of those who feels namedays are important and I have been
fortunate enough to have spent all of mine with the best of family, friends,
girlfriends and pets.
This time the latter was no
different; there was a point in the evening, when I had comfortable knocked off
8 tequilas and a few more whiskeys and as usual, I was around the best people
ever. But the former; that rather imaginative misgiving feeling of turning 30,
was a different one this time around.
The birthday wishes I got this
year, were rather extra. While wishing ‘Happy Women’s Day’ on my birthday is
not unusual, the question “when are you getting married” really felt eerie,
each and every time it was thrown my way. Long lost and those friends with who
you exchange only birthday wishes with and those, who’d generally pop the usual
“are you seeing anyone?” Q, also switched to “when are the wedding bells
ringing?”
I had decided to term this
nameday as the ‘XXX’ one, because you know, why not! My parents are cool with
me being a wee bit explicit… but, but, as the day progressed, nothing about it
felt ‘XXX’. And it may seem as if this is exaggerated, but I kid you not, if it
weren’t for the whiskey and tequila and may be even the beer, I am pretty sure
with how the day went on, I’d have ended it by opening my matrimony.com profile
before the day ended… but thankfully, that’s not how the evening turned and I
still can’t remember much of that night beyond a point… sorry mother!
I have grown up following and
more importantly feeling the same values, thoughts, traditions and ideas that
most Indian families ideally would have. I have developed and progressed in
life, reading the same books and watching the same overtly romanticizing movies
and shows that most people my age have. I have lived with 5 people over the
last 9 years, 4 of whom have got hitched in 2 years of staying with me. I have
had my fair share of girlfriends, partners and companions over the years and I
have made stupid choices, a very few of those, I still and probably always will
regret. I may not have done it all yet, but I still have done and seen a decent
amount of what life has and can have in store. But for the life of me, I fail
to understand why is marriage so closely ingrained and so often correlated to
age.
I get the fact that in our
culture and society, the older you grow, the lesser your options are. I get
that you can’t spend life heaving purely under your carnal desires. I get the
fact that among us, there aren’t too many unmarried 30 year olds. I get the
fact that some people might still need convincing about why someone’s pancreas not
working is not the be all and end all of life. I get that, I get most of it! I
just don’t get why I am suddenly stuck on this service road under the flyover.
The ironical bit about it is that
I am not at a standoff with any of the ideas, intentions and wishes that people
around have. I am extremely fortunate enough to be surrounded by love… by
friends and their partners, all of who exhibit a unique way of loving and
living together. The guys around me; THE boys, my boys who are all married, my
bakkas, my Groots… they have a thing about often living vicariously through me
and many of my shenanigans. While they have been doing that, they probably
haven’t realized that all this time, I have been doing my most in living
vicariously through them; each and every one of them and their lives.
I am not entirely sure the
purpose of writing this. Maybe it’s venting out… maybe I am still hungover from
that wretched yet extremely fun evening… or maybe it’s for my parents. Beyond
anything in life, I have been blessed with the most incredible and
understanding parents. I had a deal with them about not bothering me with
matrimonial talks till I am 30… and now that deadline has expired, maybe this
is my bargaining chip to buy more time *fingers crossed*.
May be this is to let them know
that I do want everything that I haven’t allowed them to speak to me about for
some time now … I just don’t know how to. I am sure there is someone who also
feel that salted popcorn is the only kind that should be allowed… I am sure
there is someone who believes in #mustlovedogs as staunchly as I do; I am just
not sure on where to look or to even look at all, because nothing ever comes to
you when you run after it right!
I probably need just some more time;
and even though the pressure to keep moving is immense on this service road
under the flyover, I also do believe that once both roads end and the service
road finally intersects with the flyover, most of the times and in most cases,
its smooth sailing after that.
I sincerely wish that few of you,
who do end up reading this, cannot relate to this even a tiny bit… for those
who do, if any at all, you aren’t alone.
