The truth about marriage

It is that time of the year when I start thinking about relationships. The second long relationship has been with my husband. The first one being with my parents.

The former I chose. It was 20-odd years ago that I decided who I would spend my life with. At that time, I was young and lovestruck. The man I decided to marry fit perfectly in the image I had in my head. I began to gush. And I didn't stop.

Once our partnership was officiated, we moved in to a little house on a busy street. Living with another person brought a new perspective to my life. There was a new meaning to everything we did.

At first, it was rosy. After all, is love not blind? But, as the days rolled into weeks and months, I discovered the inevitable - we had divergent tastes! It didn’t stop at movies — I liked the romantic stuff while my partner simply loved guns and gangs; we didn’t like the same books either, and we had different ideas about food! And the shocker? I loved cricket, he did not – that was pure googly! I couldn’t help wonder how they had escaped my notice when we dated.

That was not all. Another revelation followed. Spending time together meant a lot of quiet. He being himself and I being myself, in silence. I didn’t get it! It took a while to learn that conversations were going to be a one-sided affair where I had to do all the talking. Listening was something I had to give up even before because there must be some sound in the first place to listen to!

The more we discovered, the more we hated the other person. My husband thought I obsessed over cleanliness — case in point, denim jeans. "Were the first jeans not made for the workers? So obviously, jeans are not meant to be washed," he argued. And floor cleaning? – Well, it was handed the mighty title of ‘redundant chore’! After all, he reckoned, if we continued to walk on the same floor, were they not bound to get dirty again? But, the one logic I could not beat was – who in their right senses would wash the bath towels? Were the towels not used only after a good bath? Technically, it had to be clean, right? That, for me, was a bouncer I never saw coming.

As I huffed and puffed through many of these arguments over the years, I realised marriage is a lot of hard work, and I mean physical work. It is about setting alarms, waking up early, cooking, cleaning and many other unspeakable things. It's like Rahul Dravid, stoic and doing his thing no matter what, and still managing to be sane. Although I would like to gush about how there have been many romantic moments and about the beautiful relationship we have, I must do a reality check, dispel that glossy picture and do some plain talk.

"So, what will you give me when we celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary?" I asked one odd day. "I know, I will give you a walking stick and you will give me a hearing aid," he said without batting an eyelid.

Oh! I forgot to add that my spouse has a weird sense of humour, and his idea of romance is rather strange. That day, I knew that marriages are not made in heaven. They must be made either by a mechanic or a mathematician, because this partnership requires constant 'servicing' - a bit of oiling, dusting, cleaning, and we must work the grooves constantly for a smooth run, albeit with a bit of coughing every now and then. Balancing this equation with its unknown variables is quite a task for even a seasoned mathematician.

As the clock ticks, with life's ups and downs, I'm about to count a good 21 years, and a new revelation dawns on me.

Marriage is not about marrying the perfect person. It's about making peace with the person you are married to! Even if it means that you have to overlook the bath towels. That, my friend, is the doosra ball you didn’t see coming.