Its been a week since I bawled my way out of the thick-skinned, one-horned rhino.
In some way, I’ve regained consciousness to be able to talk about the incident.
I saw him coming from half a mile away. Towering tall, his stomach walking before him, his eyes gleaming with hope. I tucked behind a safe spot (my sister-in-law) to regain composure as I sniggered.
Was put on show after the entire family gathered around and was asked to take everyone’s blessings (a sign of a well-behaved indian child) after I missed ‘the main man’.
In a spirited twenty minute conversation I had quickly summed up the entire family. The older men were hawks, the younger men went on their mothers and were largely cows.
After that Rhino and I were supposed to spend sometime to get to know each other. Lasted an awkward ten minutes as I hardly knew what kind of conversation would interest Thick-skinned. Alcohol did. And that didn’t interest me much.
With my mind made up I went home and told a ‘no’. Then I was crudely reminded where I lived and that the choice was really not all mine. My parents loved the guy and his ‘status’ and that I could not afford to say ‘no’ even though living with him could turn in a dumb cow.
At such moments I wished I was dumber. I would have been less of a pain. For them. My parents, I mean.
Another thing to note in the entire incidence was my father’s reaction. For the first time I realised how weighed down he was by the fact that I was 28 and slightly more intelligent than the average girls of our community. He was willing to go to any lengths to convince me about a non-suitor as far as I am concerned just on the basis of my age and his appearance. The mental compatibility was a non-issue for him.
Wonder when this generation has kids will they realise the importance of letting them take their own marriage decisions?
Don’t know how intelligent that would be, but at least our children have room to breathe and hopefully respect us for respecting their individuality.