Hey my sweet young lady,
Hope you are doing well. I am good here.
I do not know where you are. I don’t know whether you would exist at any time either. But I felt a strong urge to write you a letter today. This letter I thought of writing to you after I read a book. Obviously men and women are not the same and it is normal that they think different. Their needs, their perception of a predicament and their decision making are all different.
I had not read many women authors before. Possibly because I don’t like reading books for the sake of passing time or because I had not come across good women authors before. This book I found in the “cancelled section” in the public library. It was called “the married woman”. It was on sale for 50 cents.
The author, Manju Kapur, teaches English in Delhi. I somehow felt the book should be interesting, at least for me. I bought the book. The book is about a woman brought up with all unnecessary fears and insecurities a woman should have in Indian society. But the difference was it was from the woman’s view point. It starts with the school day crush of the girl, the affair in college with a boy who she strongly believes would marry her and with that belief goes up to a “lip kiss”. Or many mouth explorations rather. The boy flies off to a foreign country.
The frustration from deceit lingers. Memories give more pain. In between this the girl’s mother arranges for a boy to visit her house from one of the newspaper matrimonial ads. The anger and irritation of a girl is well brought out here. She is furious that her mother wanted her not to meet or talk to any boy before but now she wants her to meet and talk to a man she hardly knows. This is the irritation any girl would get with being treated as an object. I could sense it when I read the book from a girl’s point. The anger of the girl is definitely reasonable. You can’t expect an educated girl of that age to act in any other manner.
Finally after a few years an alliance is fixed. The suitor is a good looking, foreign return lad from a well to do family. All that an Indian woman would need for marriage. The boy had liked the girl and enquired about her through someone and reached her family. The wedding and honey moon pass well. The excitement is gone and boredom sets in. The role of a traditional Indian wife is being widely misunderstood by both men and modern women. The woman always thinks that her opinion and her interests are neglected. The thousand things a working woman has to manage, the tensions in marital life, the unsatisfactory routine of sex and above all the feeling of neglect makes the woman suffer for herself. She feels caged even though she has got a good husband, two handsome children and a house in a posh Delhi suburb and blab la bla. She feels lost even though she is with her husband and loving children. She feels the hallows in her. She basically thinks too much for an average Indian woman.
I felt she did not have the many other problems a Indian woman had to face like problems from in laws and husband’s relatives, harassment at workplace, financial problems mainly for big expenditures and the like. Obviously she is a woman from upper middle class – high class level so she has to have her own things to worry about and there comes this craving for constant attention and companionship and recognition and sharing. I don’t deny that these needs are not there in the lower sections of the society but in front of the major obstacles for survival, these needs look more like an indulgence rather than a need itself.
But these needs are always there, whether overt or deep inside. The man has to take care of them. In this story we see the woman finding the companionship and love in a widow and ending up having an affair with the woman which at one point goes to the extent of threatening her marriage. The craving I would say, for these subtle things such as recognition and companionship sometimes blinds us from the gross reality. The foolishness of a woman’s mind is also portrayed in the desire on a jewellery box. The author had tried to justify the interest on the jewellery box but on this one thing I would take the side of the husband. I don’t agree with the author.
In the midst of this fluid and emotional family story, the Ramjhanma bhoomi problem is touched upon and explained and is part of the novel. That is the “useful information learning” part of the novel. The feeling of the woman to do something in this issue is being met with discouragement from family saying that is not a woman thing. That is again part of Indian societal make up.
The woman is a poet and a painter. For an artist, be it poems, books or paintings, the publishing of them is also about exposing them, their nature, their state of mind and desires and feelings. The fear of being exposed remains for a writer or a painter. For example, talking in Indian terms, the book’s description of lesbianism makes you suspect for a moment the orientation of the author herself. That is one of the “industrial hazards” writers face.
Anyway coming to the spiritual part of it, the expectations from others are the keys of disappointments. But you can’t help yourself from expecting from your spouse the things you need the most. You all the more expect the needs you have, to be fulfilled by your spouse without you demanding for them, by sensing it directly from your heart, like telepathy or something, the symbol of true love – the desire being fulfilled when it is still in your thoughts. This does not often happen with couples, the poor spouse hardly ever knows of your expectations, he or she is in her own longing s and needs from you. The art of good family life is in fulfilling the needs and getting our expectations cared for without getting hurt or hurting in the process. This is not easy. But one can definitely try.
The story ends with her lesbian partner leaving abroad and the woman left “suffering” in her family predicament. Humans are all poor little things with small little hearts needing a bit of love, care and attention. This seemingly simple thing is the most difficult concept to come to terms with.
Ok, now coming to our letter, this book opened my eyes about the feeling of a girl when a stranger turns up one morning in the house or calls her up and mentions that her dad wanted him to talk to her to make friends and marry. This is like absurd. It is pretty natural to get angry at your Dad and also at me if I do this to you. I agree. It is so many things being tested. First you don’t know who I am and you can’t start a friendly chat like “hi, are you going to be my husband?” How awkward to think like that. It is pretty odd. It is odd for me too. I have my own fantasies and dreams about my wife too. I am sure you have yours.
I am sure most of us have small crushes in schooldays. Some have serious affairs in their college days. Few don’t really get the chance of being in a relationship. It is better to have a relationship. It comes with a price. You fall in love – the most beautiful and at the same time the cruelest feeling in the world. You end up losing pretty much everything from sleep to hunger to money to time to self respect and what not. You put yourself deliberately in the mercy of the thing you love. You are filled with his/her fantasies 24*7. You are tortured by nobody but your own mind. Nothing else in the world seems important than the proximity of the loved one. It is not physical at all I know.
It is nice to have the feeling once. Like bungee jumping. It is a thing to be experienced. You actually start learning from it only when you break up. I feel a person who has had a relationship and broke up can be more mature in his/her expectations towards their spouse. It’s my feeling. You may contradict.
It was all my expectations about my future wife till date. Now I have started to think what I would give her and what I would do to keep her happy (one impossible thing in the world?). I am sure a love can’t blossom in the setting of Indian arranged marriage. The thrill of love is not comparable to the sucking pre marriage dates with the fiancé. It sucks to talk to know a person after the decision of marriage has been made. How irritating for a young modern educated girl who knows she too has her say in every decision involving her. First is about the person. He is no way comparable to my lover/boyfriend/dream boy/whatever. Though broke up now. Still mind feels the best one is that. Nothing can be compared. Still realities are bit different. It might take years before the imagery of the dream boy disappears and the current husband makes his way into the mind. I understand. It is the same on both sides. But then, arranged marriages work. Not by overwhelming love, but by consideration and accommodation. After all, that is love. You are ready to break any barrier for the loved one. But when to comes to the parent’s boy, your demands rise to the sky. That’s natural.
Again, It may be years before we see through each other. But it is a nice start to make knowingly. It is nice to start as friends. Friendship has no hierarchy. It is one good thing to start with. You may not like me for all this deliberate bullshitting. But I am like this.
It all depends on the kind of person. There are people- simple people. Simple thoughts, simple pleasures, happy most of the time. Then there are people – who think too much. Complicated hedonics – for whom any joy gives thoughts of the pain associated. Those who like thinking just for the sake of it. Think into every damn nonsense possible. Whether this small movement today morning in the meeting might have meant something to this guy, by sitting down did I send a wrong note to that guy, by talking this would that lady might have thought something about me, thousands like these to keep you busy and the countless arguments and counter arguments take place in the vast arena of mind. You end up defeated anyway. Even when you win the argument, you have spent worthless time on this wasteful thought game. Unfortunately I belong to the second group. So all this bullshitting is part of me to be accepted.
I understand it is going to be hard for you to bear with me, that too an entire life time. Believe me, I’ll help you in that. Wishing you well always,
Yours truly,
Karthik.
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