Marriages May Be Made In Heaven But In India, They Are Made In Hell

Anonymous Anonymous in Culture Shock on 21 April, 2017

Until a moment ago I was somebody’s daughter. I was someone’s little doll, somebody’s princess.

Now I’m married.

I don’t know how to be a nobody anymore. I don’t know how to be an outsider and still call this home. I don’t know how to forget my parents and treat my in-laws like they’re all. I don’t know how to be a stranger in a world that used to be my own. Until a moment ago, I was a part of a family. Until a moment ago, my feelings mattered and what I thought made a difference. Until a moment ago, my opinion was wanted, was valued.

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I don’t know how to love them when they talk behind closed doors. I don’t know how to love them when the topic of conversation could well be me or my family. I don’t know how to give them any respect when they have none for my feelings. Until a moment ago, I was just a little girl who was allowed to make mistakes, laugh and fix them.

I was that girl who could dance in the rain with an innocence that only a child can have. I don’t know how to pretend to care when I don’t. I don’t know how to grow up overnight. I don’t know how to think every word through before I open my mouth. I don’t know how to calculate every breath before I breathe. Until a moment ago, life was beautiful. Live was easy. Until a moment ago, I could pick the phone up and tell my mom I missed her so much. I could run to her and hug her whenever I wanted.

Now I don’t know how to pick up their phone to call my mother and tell her everything is great when all I want to say is “I’m miserable, please take me home.”

I don’t know how to make the people that brought me into this world less important than anything else. Until a moment ago, my life was mine. I could breathe, walk and talk freely. I could do what I wanted to, go wherever I wanted to and wear whatever I wanted to.

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I don’t know how to ask before I take a breath. I don’t know how to be thankful for being allowed to do it.

Until a moment ago, I thought I was marrying a man who loved me, who supported me and would stand by my side. I don’t know how to love a man who has no respect for my feelings. I don’t know how to be married to a man who refuses to lend me an ear when I have a problem with his family but doesn’t flinch before blaming me for causing them any discomfort I might or might not have caused.

I don’t know how to respect a man who won’t stand by a woman who’s left everything she had ever known to accept him and his life as her own.

Until a moment ago, I was loved, respected and held my head up high. Until a moment ago, I was allowed a voice, my own opinions and had the right to dream. I don’t know how to lose my voice to keep my in-laws’ pride. I don’t know how to submit to give respect. I don’t know how to be okay with everything they say. I don’t know how to let every lever of myself grow into moulds they’ve created for me.

And I refuse to learn.
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I’ll always be my mum’s doll and daddy’s little princess. Nobody can take that away from me. I refuse to let the Indian system of marriage suck the life out of me, strip me of my dignity and turn me into just another face of a daughter-in-law. I want to be a wife to a man who deserves to be called a husband. I’ll be a member of a family that truly makes me one.

For the rest I’ll stick my middle finger out and paste a big smile on my face. I will continue to live the way I was raised and the rest of my life can officially go to hell.

This post was submitted by P.

Editor's Note:

It's tough enough to leave everything familiar behind to enter a new house with new responsibilities. But living a hell of a new life is not what any woman signs ups for when she gets married to the man she loves. Please share this story hoping that every to-be married man's family will read this.