“The girl looks alright, is a classical dancer preparing for her first stage performance, works as a teacher, earns a decent salary. When she met us she said she would continue performing on stage if the extended family permits else would give up dancing. She also said that after marriage she would continue to work if only her husband and his parents would allow her to. When we first met her she was wearing a lovely saree, had jasmine flowers in her hair and was well behaved,” waxed my uncle eloquently about his nephew’s fiancee to be. The pride in his face shone brightly as my mother sat in rapt attention soaking in every bit of information about the prospective bride while I drowned myself into questions that perhaps the girl herself many not have any answers for. Why was an educated urban girl so submissive?
We are modified creatures. All of us. Taught to behave, respond, think, react and perceive life questions in congruence with the families we belong to, families we associate with and of course the society we are a part of. We do it to be considered,”acceptable.” As children, we are taught to fold our palms and bow our heads in front of deities in deep obeisance. We are taught not to question the elders who laid the foundation for the mores that we now live by. We are told that a man is a man and woman is a woman. The former a stronger sex and the latter the weaker. But the idea does not adhere to the ideal of the goddesses we worship who without consulting their better halves wielded weapons and used them freely to tame or slay their antagonists. We are made to believe that life consists of milestones. We are told that the destination is what matters the most and not the journey. We are judged if we harbour thoughts against what has been instilled. As children we go through character building routines and as adults preachy sermons which are never altered to fit us.
What gets ingrained most importantly in us is a trait that forbids us from being an entity. Submission.
The more submissive we are, the more it adds to our repertoire of being well brought up children who are ‘cultured’ and socially acceptable. Compromise is another word for submission. Or so they say, to deprive us of our liberty.
Why do we allow ourselves to be defined by others? Why is a submissive being worshipped and why is a rebel treated as an outcast? Why is a rebel called so when all she wants is to be herself? To be more specific, why should a girl give up on her passion for a boy whom she has met and known only for a few hours? Why should she allow the reins of her life to be handled by somebody else who would perhaps not have the forethought of steering it in a course which she would prefer? How does she respect her own choices when she has been taught not to?
Marriage sounds more like a chore today than an institution. People claim that there’s a gaping hole in the roof and a deep crevice in the foundation of this institution. I differ. It remains intact but less occupied. Reasons vary from one marriage to another but some marriages are abandoned because the act of submission became a mundane parlour trick which loses it’s gleam and shine. The mask falls, the voice from within cries and the submissives rise to their feet.
But some remain there.
While I sat feeling sad for the girl, the same chauvinistic voice shook me from my reverie and said, “I think it’s time you agreed on SOMEONE and got married yourself. Let’s not waste any time here shall we?”
A Libran, Rashmi Ramachandra dotes on her morning cup of coffee. The family’s official juke box, Rashmi is a trained classical singer, an MBA in Marketing and HR who very soon found out that radio was her actual calling as it kept her close to the one thing that she loves the most – Music. A huge Harry Potter fan, she is trying to create a broomless version of the quidditch. ‘Life is too precious to complicate’ is what she lives by.