When people ask me when I will be marrying you, I smile at them. Because I am not going to marry you. Not right now. They tell me there is no right age for marriage and I tell them that there is a right kind of maturity for one. They tell me you are settled in life, you earn enough to start a family. I laugh. They do not know of the seventeen-year-old boy who sat with me in coffee shops and shared his dreams.
The coffee sometimes had gone cold, but not the passion in his eyes to chase his dreams. They do not know that right now your responsibility is to fulfil your dreams, and mine is to fulfill yours.
No, I do not want to be your wife. Not yet. I want to be your friend whom you call at 3 am in the night to talk about life and not the woman who lays next to you during nights and has no clue of what is going on in your mind. I want to fight with you over not eating properly or taking good care of yourself rather than over unpaid telephone and electricity bills. I want to be the girl for whom you save that extra thousand rupees to take her out to dinner rather than the woman to whom you hand over your salary to buy groceries for the month.
I want to be the one who works with you on crucial projects than the one who irons your best formal white shirt for a client meeting.
I want to be a part of your dream, a part of your success, a part of your failures and a part of your life. And not just your wife. I want to see you grow, without the responsibility of a woman waiting for you at home, or of kids who have missed their polio vaccine because you had to go on an international tour. I want to see you do your best in your today so that our tomorrow can be the best of all. I want to understand your every breath, what tenses you or what makes you wince in discomfort. I want you to meet new people when you are free, and not just come home to spend some time with your wife.
I want to build you up all over again when you break. “Children. Kids. Parents”, the world will taunt us if we decide to postpone this whole ‘holy knot’ process. I do wish I could tell them about a man who has taken years to nurture his own dreams as if it were his own child. You are a man who has spent endless nights, to see that his dream grows up to be the best of the lot, who has done everything possible to ensure that his child is his pride. And I do wish I could tell them about the girl who was with him all this while.
Life certainly won’t be easy for both of us in the coming few years. Giving answers to the world around would not be easy. But trust me, this too shall pass. For I love you, and you love me.
And until then, I will wait. Until then, I can afford to go out with you on dates on your bike instead of a car or understand why you are not able to spend enough time with me instead of nagging you like a typical wife. I will wait until I realize we have painted our dreams with the right colours and we are ready to paint our family picture. I will wait to smile at the silver ring on my ring finger that you gifted on our last anniversary until both of us are independent, mature and ready for you to slip in a solitaire on the other ring finger of mine. Because I have to understand that the responsibility of a home must be taken together by both of us. Equally.