Waiting to be Wed locked!
(by Madiha Ishtiaque)
Will we die single? The despondent look on my friends face who appeared to have foreseen a terrible end to our sorry tale, threw me in the maws of deep depression. While empirically analyzing the consequences of single hood, it dreaded me of never being able to wear the "laal jora" on stage, enjoy the marital bliss Ive heard of all along, of children and grand children, of being denied the blessings of my home, having everybody look at me with pity and mercy and most importantly, missing out on the inflated sense of entitlement. Oh, as if people would gaze me with those eyes and square my world to narrow walls where only one thing could rescue me, the label - married
Glutted with emotions of awe and anxiety, I resolved to get crowned by the end of the year. The road was fine and smooth; the only glitch was there was no groom. The recurring romantic notion of tying knots with the love of my life, was still there and thriving, and I was waiting for a man wholl have me at Hello. Was it that difficult? Where was that 1/3rd population of the world, for me to select my love mate from. However, aphorism had it, that if I couldnt find my love at 24, the chances are already reduced to half that Ill ever find one. So what? I kept the arranged door open too initially a planned arrangement then hitting hard the ocean of love!
While the chase of the goose was on, I made the moves of womanhood; taking good care that Im in my best and stand out in the crowd. Got me spending a fortune on saloons and designer wears, so I could track my Mr. Perfect down with my personal force field. And it didnt go that bad. I met a bunchful of guys lured by my revamped person. Some with an upper-crust background and the air of tough-guy bravado, who would make sure they exercised quite a bit of that on me, to my displeasure,led me to reflexive pushbacks. Others would be employing clumsy tactics of dead-in-your-love and doing stuff as labor of love, only to avert me a little more. And the rest, who would be bewitched by my charms, only temporarily, their mood swings turned out to be as bipolar as that of a young missie. One thing was found common, almost all would view me a perfect package and would calculate my CBA (Cost Benefit Analysis), with my lucrative appeal on top! I preferred evasion to rudeness. And said a nice Goodbye. The last and the last resort came as marriage bureau and advertisements in the Sunday newspapers matrimonial section. And as I checked it before mine was sent for being published, hardly held myself falling in the pits of embarrassment; tall 59, fair, beautiful.There had to be a Full stop!!
Such forced miseries took their toll on me, and from the maw, I was touching the abyss of depression. It proved such a sheer letdown of the ideal , that there are men out there for me and I could design my own destiny and similar stuff. Life seemed more like a race now. First, securing A grades in school, then opting for the best college followed by university and then the right Mr. And all of it at the right time and the perfect age. And now that age is peeking, I should hurry up before I miss the next perfect the age for marriage. It is as if life is a pre fed program, where everything is supposed to happen at a perfectly calibrated time and if not, is bound to be doomed.
How could it be? Isnt there any such thing as fate and destiny, and is it designed the same way for every person? And so, who has designed the standards of perfection, and so to say, a perfect age for marriage? Ive finally decided to be off this race, least because I fear to loose, but more because, I learnt a few things along the dreary course. And that is, everything will happen at its due time and not the perfect time and thats the tradition of world and the will of the Lord. And even if it means being single for life, wont be such a bane after all!!
P.S : This is a reflection of issues faced by many womenfolk around, and the incidents mentioned should not be taken as a personal account.
(http://thenews.com.pk/blog/blog_details.asp?id=1186)
Will we die single? The despondent look on my friends face who appeared to have foreseen a terrible end to our sorry tale, threw me in the maws of deep depression. While empirically analyzing the consequences of single hood, it dreaded me of never being able to wear the "laal jora" on stage, enjoy the marital bliss Ive heard of all along, of children and grand children, of being denied the blessings of my home, having everybody look at me with pity and mercy and most importantly, missing out on the inflated sense of entitlement. Oh, as if people would gaze me with those eyes and square my world to narrow walls where only one thing could rescue me, the label - married
Glutted with emotions of awe and anxiety, I resolved to get crowned by the end of the year. The road was fine and smooth; the only glitch was there was no groom. The recurring romantic notion of tying knots with the love of my life, was still there and thriving, and I was waiting for a man wholl have me at Hello. Was it that difficult? Where was that 1/3rd population of the world, for me to select my love mate from. However, aphorism had it, that if I couldnt find my love at 24, the chances are already reduced to half that Ill ever find one. So what? I kept the arranged door open too initially a planned arrangement then hitting hard the ocean of love!
While the chase of the goose was on, I made the moves of womanhood; taking good care that Im in my best and stand out in the crowd. Got me spending a fortune on saloons and designer wears, so I could track my Mr. Perfect down with my personal force field. And it didnt go that bad. I met a bunchful of guys lured by my revamped person. Some with an upper-crust background and the air of tough-guy bravado, who would make sure they exercised quite a bit of that on me, to my displeasure,led me to reflexive pushbacks. Others would be employing clumsy tactics of dead-in-your-love and doing stuff as labor of love, only to avert me a little more. And the rest, who would be bewitched by my charms, only temporarily, their mood swings turned out to be as bipolar as that of a young missie. One thing was found common, almost all would view me a perfect package and would calculate my CBA (Cost Benefit Analysis), with my lucrative appeal on top! I preferred evasion to rudeness. And said a nice Goodbye. The last and the last resort came as marriage bureau and advertisements in the Sunday newspapers matrimonial section. And as I checked it before mine was sent for being published, hardly held myself falling in the pits of embarrassment; tall 59, fair, beautiful.There had to be a Full stop!!
Such forced miseries took their toll on me, and from the maw, I was touching the abyss of depression. It proved such a sheer letdown of the ideal , that there are men out there for me and I could design my own destiny and similar stuff. Life seemed more like a race now. First, securing A grades in school, then opting for the best college followed by university and then the right Mr. And all of it at the right time and the perfect age. And now that age is peeking, I should hurry up before I miss the next perfect the age for marriage. It is as if life is a pre fed program, where everything is supposed to happen at a perfectly calibrated time and if not, is bound to be doomed.
How could it be? Isnt there any such thing as fate and destiny, and is it designed the same way for every person? And so, who has designed the standards of perfection, and so to say, a perfect age for marriage? Ive finally decided to be off this race, least because I fear to loose, but more because, I learnt a few things along the dreary course. And that is, everything will happen at its due time and not the perfect time and thats the tradition of world and the will of the Lord. And even if it means being single for life, wont be such a bane after all!!
P.S : This is a reflection of issues faced by many womenfolk around, and the incidents mentioned should not be taken as a personal account.
(http://thenews.com.pk/blog/blog_details.asp?id=1186)
