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husband-wife relationship

By A ‘Common Woman’

When Arjuna went to the battlefield and realized that he must fight his loved ones, he no longer wanted to fight. His fingers trembled as his bow fell from his hand. He was depressed.

When you are depressed, you lose your will to fight. You want to self-destruct. You feel completely and utterly hopeless. If you are me, then you do not want to feel positive about a situation because you are afraid, you’ll sink lower into depression if you allow yourself to feel happy for even a moment.

I think my marriage is ending. I know the feeling – it’s familiar to me by now: exhaustion, high blood pressure, insomnia, everything feels… static. It’s like you’re a fallen soldier on a battlefield. There’s a war going on around you and you know you must fight, but you’re lying on the dusty ground, seeing blood and gore around you thinking, “What’s the point?” You want to rest but you can’t. You want to silence your mind, but all you feel is numb. Pointless. Fleeting moments of happiness, amusement, and joy come and go, as you observe the world with a heavy heart and a restless brain.

Deep down, I know my marriage was never a strong one to begin with. Sure, it carried with it the promise of a wonderful and fulfilling relationship. After all, who voluntarily enters a marriage thinking it might not last? I entered mine with hope and trepidation. I knew we had potential problems we needed to sort out, but as long as ‘we’ were a team, we would manage to overcome every challenge sooner or later, right?

Turns out, when it comes to a large number of men, or perhaps Indian men, there is no ‘we’ in a marriage. For mine too, the ‘we’ in my marriage belongs to my husband and his parents. In one of the many fights we had in the first couple of months of our marriage, I’d yelled, “You and your parents are a team, but what about me?” I don’t even remember what he said, but I highly doubt he’d have reassured me otherwise.

I have never been part of my husband’s club since we got married until the day of our impending divorce. His parents make all the decisions for their thirty-three-year-old child. What work he does at his office, what he wears to what he eats are all dependent on their wishes. He doesn’t get up from bed in the morning or go to sleep at night without hearing from them. And if you’re wondering whether he was like this on our honeymoon as well, let me tell you he canceled having a honeymoon in the first place and instead, chose to spend his vacation days hanging out with his parents. In fact, he spends all his vacation days reserved for his parents – not even one out of twenty-one days is for anyone else. And not a single one belongs to me.

I never thought I would be the girl on the internet ranting about her husband. Then again, I never thought I would be the girl who’d be contemplating a divorce when I have wanted my own beautiful love story since I was five years old. To have the perfect partner, you must be the perfect partner. So I became the most perfect version of myself I could be: got the best education from the best places, got multiple certifications, got the good job, and developed all the skills a person should have – be it cooking, taking care of pets, driving, changing a bulb, you name it. I continue to educate myself on all things that matter to him, from how to give the perfect blowjobs to how to invest wisely in high-risk investments. From doing my laundry to filing my taxes, I do everything and try to learn everything.

Yet, it makes no difference to my marriage. If my mother-in-law tells him not to eat a banana because it’ll give him ‘high cholesterol’, he won’t touch a banana. All the logic in the world given by his wife makes no difference. After a point, you think, “Did my husband want a ‘wife’ for his parents or a best friend for life?” Sadly, I know the answer and it depresses me more.

I do not want to complain about my husband. What I do want to do is ask all parents – Is this what you want, your child to remain co-dependent for the rest of your lives? What will that child do when you are too old, and he can neither talk to you nor his estranged wife and kids? Why are so many mothers hell-bent on making their children completely unsuitable for the world? Will we as a society ever change, or will you continue to ruin the lives of more women and ultimately, blame them when things fall apart?

In the end though, Arjuna had to perform his duty, his dharma, just like millions of Indian women who fight for their marriage despite society considering them the outsider in a family of parents and their son. And when they fail like the Pandava prince, they surrender the fate of their lives to Krishna, and the divine will of the universe.

Guest Author (Anonymous)

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By a Common Woman (Anonymous)

Each evening, when my husband comes home from work, he asks me, “How was your day today?” each day, I respond with a variation of, “Good. Got some work done. How was yours?”

We chat for about ten-fifteen minutes before he takes his pre-workout snack and rushes off to the gym. Sometimes, I go with him to the gym, but more often than not, I avoid it. I know he feels disappointed when I don’t end my exhausting workday with a challenging workout. I do too. But it’s hard for me to explain that by the time the clock strikes four or five or especially six in the evening, I am somewhat of a mess.

Technically, I should be fine. My life is going well. I have a job. I have a family. I am healthy. I have close friends who ask me how I am and actually wait for the response. And yet, the crushing weight of unspoken words between my husband and me makes me feel horribly sad. You see, when my husband asks me about my day, I do not want to respond with, “Good. Got some work done. How was yours?” I want to tell him each and every thought that passes through my head. I want to tell him that I checked my bank account twice today and daydreamed about how my life would be if I had more money. I want to tell him that I spent about forty-five minutes looking for the perfect flower vase on Amazon and saved a few on my cart. I want to tell him that I checked my weight this morning and later felt guilty about polishing off chocolate ice cream at lunch. I want to tell him that I skipped meditation today and wondered for the hundredth time if flying to Paris for a long-delayed honeymoon would solve our marital problems.

But I said none of these things today. And I know I will say nothing tomorrow. The part I feel most sorry about is that it is not in my nature to keep my mouth shut like this. Just ask my friends. I talk about everything – my hopes, disappointments, fears, everything. I like being an open book. In fact, I used to tell my partner everything when we first got married. But then one morning, I woke up and realized I was the only one baring my soul. This means today, when he asks me, “How was your day?”, I don’t tell him that I went to the bank for an errand, because I don’t even know in which banks he has accounts. I don’t tell him I am worried about not making enough money because he refuses to tell me his net monthly income. I engage in debates about investment strategies with my friends in finance that I never discuss aloud with my partner because he shuts me down. I hide my Whatsapp notifications because he not only keeps his phone top down at all times, but he even takes it to the bathroom every single time. I don’t tell him how excited I am to swap my credit card points for a flight ticket because who wants to open that can of worms? My husband and I don’t talk about credit cards or flight tickets. He simply tells me he has bought a flight ticket, and expects me to adjust my schedule.

No one told me marriage was easy. I was prepared to work hard, really, really, hard, to make my marriage work. But I was not prepared for secrets. I was not prepared for loneliness in a partnership, for the lack of transparency, for my partner making thrice as much money as me but never surprising me with a gift.I was not prepared for believing that he’s doing me a favor by paying for rent and minor expenses, all the while ensuring the rest of the financial burden falls squarely on my shoulders. I wasn’t prepared for refusing to go for couples’ therapy to address my mountain of resentments or for asking me to speak to his mother about a health scare, while never calling my parents.

Let me clarify, my husband is not a bad spouse. He unfailingly asks me about my day, every day. Unfortunately, he forgets my grievances as soon as I am done crying about them. He doesn’t question why I have nothing much to say about my days anymore, why I hide behind a new novel every week, why I never talk about my family and friends anymore, or why I don’t even bother fighting about the dozen things I used to earlier fight with him about. And the saddest of all, he snores through the night while I cry about the utter lack of marital connection lost to the silence, and then asks me in the morning, his face gleaming with happiness after a good night’s sleep, “Hey, so how’s your day looking today?”

  • By ‘A Common Woman’
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