One of the rather uncomfortable side effects of marriage is the constant pressure to procreate. And the even more discomfiting fact is that this pressure comes from people you have never and would never discuss the mechanics of procreation with. Now, while I’ve been reasonably fortunate so far in dealing with the curiosity about my childbearing plans, that’s not what compelled me to write this post. It’s something a bit more disturbing.
After marriage, there is a host of people who enquire when you’re planning to “start a family”. And this always, imperatively, bugs me. No, not because it’s personal and nosey (which it is) but because it’s founded in falsehood. You see, I already have a family! Continue reading
The clock struck midnight. There was victory in his eyes. On the bed were remnants of his night’s hunt – the Scrabble letters I scattered after he had defeated me yet again! The man who can beat me at Scrabble is a man I respect.
On weekday nights, R and I whip up (not so) simple dinners so we are all sorted for making our way through the bedside books. They have been taking longer to get through, I have noticed. I swear this is because of how beautiful Pune night rain looks from our bedroom window. Golden, quiet and melodious! It looks different over the weekend though – more intrusive than beautiful, more irritating than romantic. We still trudge out, braving the mighty raindrops and squealing over the puddles.
Before you put me down as another fanatical feminist, I have some concrete reasons to believe male chauvinism isn’t a thing of the past. It’s just that they now come in new packages and try hard to hide among the sheep.
There are men who expect their wives to wait interminably for that one weekend they will spend together. Life, after all, is not rushing by and she MUST understand how every weekend is meant for earning extra money, spending time with friends or worse, inviting them all home. In any case, she has had the entire week to relax when he was busy at work. Even if she has a career, her workplace couldn’t dream of being as tiring as his! These are the men who think nothing of adoring other women (we can tell when it’s “platonic”, please) and filling their home with bottle openers and corkscrews shaped like a woman’s (sexy, of course) torso. Perfect pigs!
There are a few birds chirping right outside the living-room window of my new home in Pune. It is a quintessentially “Pune” day – a hot sun, a very slight wind and the promise of a rejuvenating evening breeze hanging in the air. R and I are now married and have graduated to being housemates, student-teacher in the kitchen (no prizes for guessing who’s who) and regular visitors to the departmental store. We still sit back sometimes and breathe in hard to let it sink in – the fact that it all turned out well and we are truly, finally, man and wife.
This morning is when my laptop was accessible over suitcases, kitchenware and general chaos. Ladies and gents, welcome again to “Of Paneer, Pulao and Pune”. We promise to regale you with stories from this charming city, told with the gusto of a hot vada paau and garnished with a generous sprinkling of panipuri masala.
This is the umpteenth move from “Saddi Delhi” and I have been awarded the title of the best luggage packer in town. While life doesn’t really allow me any wind of its plans, thus preventing me from forecasting, I look forward to many bright evenings, delightful meals (some of which I will cook), fun times with R and, hold your breath, settling down in happy matrimony.
Wish me luck.
I woke up this morning to a distinct feeling of déjà vu, probably brought on by the familiar strands of music from the window and the aroma of freshly baked buns at Good Luck Café, Pune. This is my last stop at Pune before the wedding and we are here to shop for furniture for the new flat which will be the first house R and I move into as a married couple (*jumps*). I feel more grown-up than before, and yet an absolute child when it comes to gazing at bright upholstery, home décor and colourful cushions.
Pune has always been close to heart, as those who were here when “Saddi Delhi” was “Of Paneer, Pulao and Pune” will vouch for. Come March, we will move again to the city of delectable German Bakery cookies, impressive Crossword bookstores, and breath-taking hills and beaches within weekend-getaway distance.
There is anticipation in the air today, as well as trepidation, when I realize that this Monday is only the first in several that I will be waking up to in Pune – not as a student or a singles-club professional, but as a married woman who still needs to learn to cook and tie a sari properly. This is more serious thinking than the beautiful morning allows. I think I will instead order for coffee, sit by the window, and admire the azure sky so full of promise and poetry.
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Did you think the White Walkers existed only in George R Martin’s mystical world, somewhere near Westeros*? Well, let me warn you. A handful of them come visiting my home every day. By sundown, imagine their magic, I am a White Walker too! They keep away friends and relatives – all too petrified to visit. That being said, it’s actually fun watching them transform the walls of my home from weatherworn and weary to fresh and lively. The layers of white (not to forget dust, cobwebs and cockroaches) that settle on the skin are but a side-effect.