Love in the time of marriage!

A six- sleeper bedroom can be jarringly welcoming of conversations about heart, ache, dreams and passion. It is totally a different sphere of living if all of them co exist within the realm of a single feeling, or so it seems to be- Love! One such conversation among young girls, all of hitting their sweet sixteen would often bring to thought, words like ‘men who are loyal and handsome’, ‘men who are intelligent and honest’, ‘men who are ambitious and caring’. It also brings along some unexplored, secretive opinions that each one in that room begins to own within that moment — “Would you rather engage in a physical activity before marrying?” “Would you be comfortable allowing cheating?” “Would you believe that love actually prevails over all?” Someone replied to a question that arrived only after the answer was said out aloud. She said, “I’d rather be the best for my man, so that I am assured he won’t find a better one , to leave me and go”. And each girl in the room , all in fact, sulked. All agreed. All appreciated the answer.

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How many have found people, in our world of choice, where one single person is capable of fulfilling all roles? How many , who’ve shared hostel or home spaces with unknown people, been comfortable with them every second minute of their lives? How many love every single moment of being, with someone else or being answerable to someone else?

Something inherently dangerous and becoming of the answer strikes minds years after they’ve left the room. They ask each other over the phone if they’ve shifted ideas from that thought, eight years down the line? Love has grown from roses and holding hands to kisses and heart aches. Love has grown from being dreamy to something more caring and philosophical. Yet, does it still contain the nothingness of the forever? Or is it hanging out, trying to find itself, as if it were never that complete, never that great? “It is really only a feeling, meant to sink in like anger does, like other feelings do. It’s great in the beginning but definitely settles into something less jumpy and more mature. The overwhelming-ness of it fades away. You realize what you’ve been seeking is true only when you’ve felt the not so true ones before.” And the messages disappear. Every night, she seeks some more answers, may be some more company and some more comfort into what she yearns for. She is scared inside, more unwelcoming than ever, with each passing night. She wishes for love but wishes for it to stay. She tries to keep it, but tries harder to send it away. She cares, she holds back.

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Sitting through sessions of several friends all while growing up and dealing with their relationship problems may open doors to answers about relationships, except that they do not confirm to be the best choices in one’s own. Every relationship between two individuals is unique, however similar the problems might be for a plain sight. Does time solve things, or experience really count? Can coming to terms with engaging in conversations become a challenge until it is too late, and love, till then, may become disinterested? How can one, then, ever find someone to romantically love?

She should not forget that she was born in a family, among people and in a country that values traditions. Her sixteen year old self in the hostel would probably understand the meaning of a certain thing called marriage more than she wills to understand today. She finds amusement in being able to take care of herself and be selfish about it. She is caring yet detached. She is miser yet extravagant. She is seeking company yet loves her privacy. She takes pride in being alone, with everything she chooses to be around at few times. The idea of binding on to someone, and convince herself that someone believe every second of that, threatens her. Should a custom prevail over the idea of a feeling, if not the feeling itself? “But all girls always want to marry, you see.” “That’s so not true.” “I like you.” “Why?” How can someone claim to like someone and not be able to give an answer to that? It makes her believe what she was liked about did not have much to do with love. She did not give enough time to grow it, she was awkward and unprepared. She wanted it to last, as if like attention. But she lacked the willingness for it. She thinks what she’s seen over the years might work well with her. She confuses her marriage with others. She confuses her being with someone else. Can there really be a guide, a formula ever? What if it was never meant to be, what if she has found the wrong man? What if she still wants to crush over her favourite actors and some other hot men, years into her marriage? Will she remain as hot herself? Or is she content, in the art of finding herself and loving herself? This place does not have competition. She does not get bored here. She is happy, irresponsible and hardworking. She dreams about her lamps and cushions, her plants and music. Sometimes, she also dreams about the last guy. She met him recently. He looked great. He sounded guilty. She did not care less. She has moved on, like she always does. She is waiting to move on, from him too. Soon, she will. She knows about the art of moving on. But, she should forget it before marrying.

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Love does not begin at lust, nor does it begin at friendship, nor care and should not be expected to end well in a marriage. It begins at love, itself and is found in, love itself. No other feeling should be combined with it, it dilutes the feeling and burdens the relationship two people may seek to share.The art of finding all in one, in two humans is a fallen art. The idea of belonging to someone, without fail and trying to expect the same, fails us. It may even succeed. The marriage may succeed. It may bring happiness, and peace and lust and dreams and passion. But does it continue to bring love?

Does love know or love does it’s time of stay? Love in the time of marriage, that wants to exist, sure does!

The world of stories is a probability after all!