Marriage & Monotony

By Yuvankshi Venugopal

Plush peach kisses & lilac skies fancy almost every mind, why wouldn’t they? They’re so pretty. A melancholic pretty and what child of life does not in some way resonate with that?

On the 25th of November 2019, death first knocked my door. It was rather gloomy that night when I wished upon every shooting star that flew across the ominous night sky, holding on to one fraying hope that perhaps the horrors of my heart would not unfold into reality.

Perhaps loving someone is the start of losing them. For as long as my memory serves, my mornings began with the scent of ginger-infused tea. However, here I was, married to the man I have loved with every fibre of my being woken to brew black coffee.

You see, falling in love is the easy part, hard is not falling out of it. Love in its totality would never only be rainbows & butterflies therefore, as prepared as one could be, we were to see through all that fate had in store for us. True believers of love shall triumph all, were we. My heart always reached out to him in ways my mind never could. Perhaps that is just the beauty of love and the essence of pain when you choose sense over sensibility.

Our home was shades of apricot honey, warm and wistful, in its purest essence. Old, grey stone walls paired with white curtains that danced with the winds contrasting the yale blue pieces of furniture. The Khaki nylon carpets laid across the floors held us together.

Oh, our mornings! They were lovelier than ever. He looked breathtakingly gorgeous every morning, as though ageing worked in his favour. The fragrance of the wet soil of the freshly watered front yard was always a delight to his father, to the chirping of birds and the sweet morning dew he and I enjoyed our morning tea. His mother, on the other hand, was a tough nut to crack. The joy of my minute random acts of care and kindness towards him or my in-laws brought him an unparalleled magnitude of bliss, which is why I began practising giving up the small pleasures of my life to him. I chose to make sacrifices, he never asked of me out of care & he made compromises I never asked of him, out of love.

You see, the thing is, sometimes, Love can be a little too demanding.

The feeling of vulnerability can be overpowering & the need for making it work can be all-consuming.

My ambition to be an entrepreneur didn’t quite settle well with his mother & his style of life was strikingly difficult for me to marry into. My warm apricot had shades of gloomy grey every alternate evening when I returned past dinner or left behind the Laundry undone. I have a vivid memory of stepping in through the brown door to hear voices racing each other my legs felt the weight of the fear of trouble that my mind anticipated. My mother-in-law cursed him for getting tied in a knot that she hadn’t arranged. Her “She is a disgrace to the family name.” hurt most, and it was at times like these, when push came to shove, that he did have my back. Never did it ever hurt any less.

If you ask me one piece of advice for a couple in love, it would most definitely is to not compromise beyond yourself.

On the 25th of November 2019 after the batch’2010 reunion, the silent ride home spoke volumes. When he stood unbuttoning his cuffs, I sat at the dresser undressing the jewellery, we caught a glimpse of each other in the reflections of the mirror of strangers staring back at us, his eyes spoke what my heart was too afraid to accept. Settling had dragged us to when we just weren’t the ones we fell for.

That was that.

I still love him and Every morning with 3 years of love clutching my finger and 3 cups of warm honey oat milk, I wait for the shrew-berry cookies to arrive.

Perhaps sometimes love is just not enough.

By Yuvankshi Venugopal