THE BOYS WHO MADE ME CRY I doubt if they even know it. The way they look at you after you have cried your heart out is quite astonishing. Just out the college gate, he told me that I look stunning—all red. Yes, I was red; 

I was crying for a whole hour, but how is he supposed to know that? Nobody does; why must he? I was crying because aren’t girls supposed to do that all the time? Should anyone ever wonder why? Tear ducts in the eyes are not fountains; they do not operate on will. What they do need, however, is a reason to let themselves go. 

While crony capitalism asks men not to use their real emotions, women somehow have this liberty, a generous one, I must say. You know, at least we have this kind of thing. Why am I supposed to cry over everything? Just for the fact that there are so many reasons to do so. I am 33, still single, and my parents are looking for a boy to get me married, but the problem is that there is no end to this search. 

Seriously, there is no way they can find a suitable mate for me, and that is not because of the way I look, earn, or speak (they are part of another Pandora box that I am not writing about here); it is because the men here do not understand that women have aspirations, fears, and families too. 

The first guy I met was offering me money to give dowry to his own parents.

It makes for a good movie, but in real life, this is cringy: the man who is ready to take responsibility for a family cannot ask his mother to stop asking for dowry. 

The second one wanted me to leave my job and move around with him across continents.

Well, he was also uncomfortable that I have a higher degree than him and wanted me to feel ‘not as good as him’ because he was an engineer and I am a mere PhD. 

The one after him was quite confident that I should not think about moving for my job or further studies. One of them asked me if I could just stop reading and have a life. 

The next one after that hacked all my social media accounts to get my photographs (thank you, Facebook). The latest one told me that I might as well learn to relax because he is a good man and can provide everything. After every such meeting, my parents asked me to decide in favour of all of these men. 

Firstly, because I am too old to get married now, and also because what is wrong with leaving a job? Believe me, I also doubt that now. Is it even worth working with so much nagging? I think no. 

This story has no happy ending. I have had tons of encounters over the last two years that have left me in tears. Red Face is not beautiful; it is a story of heartbreak that feminism only works for women and has left men to be themselves. 

I detest my education and the fact that I chose to be free. I am in constant depression, as are my parents. Am I worth hating? Maybe I am; I will have no idea. Living with the ideals of democracy and a free society is not easy; it comes with a cost. 

Sometimes the cost is your mental peace and sense of sanity. You all can question everything, but are you ready to live a miserable life for your ideals? If not, then what are the ideals for?