Jay
There was a custom in Indian household about the newly weds staying for three days at the bride's house. I didn't know the meaning behind it, but I've seen everyone following this tradition ever since I was a child. These three days usually come after spending the first night in the groom's household.
I've always felt that it was some sort of weird tradition, that our own parents- who looked at sex as a taboo- would send us into the room, to a person who was practically a stranger, to have sex.
I was somehow saved from that odd tradition because the priest couldn't find an auspicious time for mine and Veena's first night together. What if we were lovers and already spent hundreds of nights together? What then? A question I wanted to throw at his face- a payback for all the godforsaken early mornings in the name of rituals- but one look at my mom, I reconsidered.
Veena, who prior to the announcement looked as if she was both ready to faint and also walk into a war zone, looked about to cry in relief. Did she think that I would force myself on her?
Good god. Did I look that horrible kind of monster?
Two things had happened that night, which as an Indian son, I've never dreamed would happen.
One: My father walked into my room, where I was alone and finally was able to rest my back. I was in no way out of shape, but two whole days of restless rituals where most of the time you spend standing, can do that to one's back.
"I thought you'd be with Veena. But again, your sister never leaves her alone." dad laughed and I joined.
It was true that Anvi adored Veena a lot. Especially after the wedding clothes incident, when I've learnt something very important about my wife.
"I thought I'd give her some rest. She must be exhausted and I didn't want to tire her with my useless attempts to talk."
I closed my eyes and stretched my neck, rolling around the stiff muscles.
Dad hummed as an answer.
"Jay?"
"Yes dad?"
"Umm...I know the wedding night has been cancelled and umm...I think that..um...that.."
I frowned but still didn't open my eyes. What was he getting at?
"I think that its long due we had this conversation about do and don'ts on your wedding night." he let out in a single whoosh sounding relived.
My eyes shot open at his words, embarrassment all over me. This was so not a conversation I wanted to have with my father. And I didn't need him to know that I had a lot of experience with the stuff he wanted to talk about.
Drunk nights, crazy friends and hormones does that anybody. It wasn't a phase I was proud of, but didn't regret it either.
"Well, first and foremost is about pleas-"
"Stop right there dad. One more word and I'll tell mom that you still smoke."
His eyes widened and he looked around, to check if someone had heard us.
He left after a grumble of complaints, but nevertheless looked relived.
Two: It was my mom's words.
"See Jay, us women we crave for so many little things. The things which cannot be bought by money, because we are capable of making our own damn money. What we crave from our partner are three main things. Your time, attention and care. To a wrong woman these may look trivial, but to a right woman, these are the things she ever wished for. We want you to notice little things, and remember. We want you to openly show us that you love us. We want you to see us as your equals and not as an inferior. We want romance. We want many things but are too shy and too proud to say it out loud. We want you to give us these things without us telling you.
Especially us, Indian women, come to your household, leaving our whole lives behind. We were constantly told from the time we could understand how things worked around the world, that we were supposed to behave as a lady so that we could get a proper husband. Our freedom was controlled or in many cases not given in the name of marriage. We loose our hopes, our dreams and sacrifice a lot of things in the name of marriage. And mostly not by choice. So despite all these hardships, we continue to maintain a smile on our face and uproot whole our lives. For you men. And what we hope in return are genuine affection. Care and patience.
Jay, dear, I've always believed that I've never showed any difference between you and Anvitha. And also that I've raised you to be a gentleman. And with that belief I've promised Veena that she had bagged a very good husband. That she was lucky. So do not disappoint me. Be a man and husband who won't hurt the woman who carried all her hopes along with her to share them with you.
Both your cases are slightly different than all these generation weddings. You haven't even spoken to each other properly and deep down in my heart there is question which keeps me restless. A question of what if?
So you both are going to need a lot of patience to make this marriage work. I know that neither of you are bad and if you work hard enough, I wouldn't have to live a day where instead of grandchild I'd have to see a divorce.
I know her mother must've given her a similar speech and I'm doing my duty here. She is a very good woman Jay. A warm and kind person who cares for everyone around her. She is talented, polite and beautiful.
She might or might not be a difficult person. If she is, then you have to be patient. She had just entered into a world where everyone are strangers and she is expected to be prim and proper. She might be a bit bitter if she had to sacrifice her dreams for this wedding. You don't give her attitude. Be patient. Make her yours mentally first and later she will become yours in every sense. Love her first and then she will love you back and shower you with emotions which you haven't ever experienced.
Our generation lacked this Jay. Love. Women were just birth machines, expected to produce a boy heir and keep mum. Very little of us were lucky enough to find love.
But this generation isn't like that. You people are mature, educated and understanding. So, understand your wife better and help her adjust to this new life. And you better behave, because she isn't your maid. If she doesn't know her way around kitchen, you'll help her. If she is sick, you will bring her food to her bed. If she is down, you will do anything to make her smile. And if she cries, rub those tears away and so god help me if you're the reason behind it.
Buckle up son. You are in for a ride."
Little did she know that I've already hurt her. I was already causing Veena a lot of pain. At least this marriage was.
Because,
she was already in love with some one else.
~ ~ ~
I have always had this doubt at the corner of my head ever since I've sneaked into her house. But once I've seen the wedding shirt and dhoti, my doubts were confirmed. Maybe I should've not looked into it as much in depth as I did. Maybe I should've just said a 'wow' and looked at it superficially like everyone did. But damn my curious mind and doubly curious eyes, they were already scanning the silk material which was weaved by Veena herself.
It was when my eyes travelled to the shirt I found out. She had cleverly made it in a size of an averagely built size man, but the length of it gave away half of it. The usual height of an average Indian man was 5'8''. But this shirt was clearly made for someone taller.
