Another birthday went by. Just like every year, I received phone calls from well-meaning associates. They repeated their wish of wanting to see me married and I again brushed it off saying that there is still some more time. Some went ahead to certify that my biological clock isn’t ticking anymore, and it might have stopped. I told them that it doesn’t mean anything to me.
Deep
in my heart, I know it means quite a bit at this stage. No, not the biological
clock but a solid companionship. A companionship that would provide me with comfort, peace and freedom.
All
my life I have lived with my parents and a younger sibling. We love each other
to the core but argue at every possible instance. We have different world views,
but the same values bind the four of us together. Some days, when I don’t win
the major arguments – I tell them that I will pack my bags and leave the house.
I have come so close to doing so, but I just can’t seem to take down the heavy
suitcases from the attic and fill them with my favourite things. Because all my favourite things can't be packed in the good old sturdy luggage bags or even
the mauve one that I bought some time ago.
The
list of my favourite things is endless. They may be some material as old as the many
audio cassettes of my recitation recordings or the customary studio visits for
a picture dedicated to every occasion. They may also be a variety of emotions –
undefined emotions that can only be felt in presence of one’s parents. Then
there are also the things that I dislike. For instance - I don’t want to live up to the
moral science textbooks all the time.
But
I have realised that my likes are quite solid in nature and often dwarf my
dislikes. Now, when I travel out for shoots to another city for 2-3 days – I
should be mentally kicked about it as I always was, but the fact is - I am not. It has nothing to
do with work/shoots, which I am still quite passionate about. It has to do
with not being able to see my parents on the days I am out. I may be in touch
with them all the time over the phone, but I feel a strange sense of comfort
when they are within my gaze.
This behaviour change has happened over time. With age, I have grown fonder of them – as my parents and as a couple. As a couple, they do most things together. Both have retired from their beloved services and now have each other’s company all the time. They cook and do other household chores together. They also have arguments. They stop speaking with each other and also don’t watch their scheduled shows together. But this sight doesn’t last for long. They make it up to each other very soon. I find it absolutely adorable how each time they let go of things easily without holding anything against each other.
And,
here I am – fretting over my relationship because I had some sort of a sane
expectation, but things did not work out my way. I pause for a moment and think
why is ‘my way’ always more important than the other person’s opinion or way. I
never get a satisfactory answer to that.
Maybe
someday, I will.
That
day, we will live together as one big family – his favourite humans, my favourite
humans, his favourite things, my favourite things and the many intricate
emotions of real existence.
That
day, my way and his way won’t collide. And, even if they do, we will still
stick together and find a middle ground where I will savour Old Monk and he
will make do with a Lemonade breezer.
Until
that happens, I am happily ageing up in the company of this endearing couple
that still believes in old-fashioned love - where love conquers everything even the silliest of all arguments.
My
mother proclaims – “Love is silent. It is important to understand its beauty amid everyday chaos”. My father nods in agreement.
They keep my hopes alive.
Year after year.
