And again with the winter session, tensions have engulfed my family members. The list of eligible candidates is out again in our community book. I could trace a few old names in the bio datas in this new booklet. They too might not have been able to fetch someone for marriage purpose; this thought made me placid. Looking at the familiar names which appeared last year in the same booklet, gave me strength as I was not the only one who was left behind in this ‘marriage race’. Majority are new fellows in the list.
Repeatedly I have been rejected as a marriage material from last couple of years by many eligible boys and their parents. Vivid reasons were given to me for rejection. “You are not beautiful”, “You are little fat” “You don’t have a good package”, “Our horoscopes don’t match” and so on. These reasons broke me down. The tsunami of my pain flowed through my eyes with each rejection. The relationship between my tears and my pillow got firm with each reason and rejection. I could see fear and sadness in my parents’ eyes which used to sparkle before the marriage drama was started. They have to bear the society torture; your daughter is 27 years old and still unmarried. All her friends by now are married and she is the single one remaining, freak out all relatives.
Every Saturday or Sunday morning a family with their eligible son will come to have breakfast with us. Sit for 2 hours, they will take my interview and then leave. Each Sunday I have to get up early, dress up properly, help mother in making delicious items for the eligible candidate and their family members. They will come, sit, enjoy and leave. We have to clean up all the mess after that. I feel lost! I have lost my life now. I have lost my Sundays. I have lost my Weekend sleep.
In the modern age where we talk about equality and women empowerment, reality is quite different! We are questioned about our salary and package, but it’s a taboo to ask a man if he knows how to cook. A girl can get rejected based on her looks but hardly anyone cares for the inner beauty of conscience. Sadly in India, beauty is about being fair in complexion. The boys who rejected me saying I am fat, have no idea how much I have starved myself in the name of diet and fasting for having a good husband. I could not see equality, the boys who come for “First meeting program” wears casuals, and expects me to wear a saree, not casuals.
All these things must have been experienced by many of us, but nobody cares a damn what it feels like when you get rejected for material things.