#MyStory: The Real Reason I Didn’t Want My Best Friend To Get Married
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I have always been a bit different from my peers. When girls were obsessing about makeup and boys, I was dreaming about running my own company. On some days, I wanted to be an astronaut, on others, a fashion designer. I was always the freak – I talked too much, I laughed too much. I had big dreams – dreams of making it big on my own, being independent, being free. And none of my friends in my tiny town could relate to me.
Then, I met her. A shy, introvert girl who spoke only when spoken to. I found her intriguing. So mysterious! At some point in time, while eating lunch and walking home together, we became friends. I told her about my hopes and dreams, she told me about things she aspired to do. She played hockey and was the school star. She had won us many trophies. Being the academic bookworm that I was, I stuck to the benches, cheering her on, going to every game of hers. I was her biggest fan.
In our little world, we had already won all the battles. I would go on endlessly about what I would wear to my first day of office, and she would solemnly tease me that it would not be a very flattering outfit for me, and so on. I would prod her, ask her what she wanted to do when she “grew up”. She would talk about playing for the country one day. And I believed her.
The day we graduated, she told me that her parents had started to look for a match for her. I was taken aback. I mean, life was just starting, wasn’t it? Were we not meant to be great – do great things? She had received an offer letter from one of the best universities through the sports quota. But her family did not want a young woman running about in shorts, showing her legs off. I tried to talk to her, but nothing I said made any difference. I got a job – a really good position for a fresher. I tried to rub it in, hoping that might inspire her to fight back. She was genuinely happy for me, but nothing deterred her. She had resigned herself to her fate.
They found someone for her. An amazing guy, well-settled. The marriage was fixed. By now, I was desperate. I found it insulting that all those talks about being independent and doing something on our own had been just that – talks. I took it upon myself to talk sense into her parents. I squared my shoulders and tried to explain to them that her life would be over if she gets married now. Suddenly, I was not so welcome anymore. I was accused of poisoning their little daughter’s mind, of creating rebellious thoughts that would “get both of you nowhere”. Even a hint of me being jealous of her happily-ever-after life was passed.
With tears in her eyes, my best friend asked me to mind my own business. It actually felt like a slap. I force-hugged her. I told her that I loved her. But the self-sacrificing persona she had adopted was deaf to my pleas. As I walked out of her house, I realized that this was the first battle I had lost.
I didn’t want my best friend to get married. Not then. She had so much to offer to the society. She could have played for the country; she was that good. Hockey was her life. What hurt me the most was getting married was not what she wanted. It was what she was made to want. Somehow, now her ideal was being the bahu of all the saas-bahu soaps her mother used to watch – suffering continuously, never uttering a word. And bahus don’t play hockey.
I met her today, after 5 years. She hugged me, and over a cup of coffee, told me she could fix me up with her husband’s friend, who was “still not married”. She actually had pity in her voice – for me. It really didn’t matter that I had made it big in my life, was independent, was happy – I was not married yet, so that means I had failed to meet the expectations of everybody. I was, once again, the freak. She had become one of those we had despised so much.
As I rose to say goodbye, I asked her when we could meet again. She said, “I am not sure, I have to ask my husband. Actually he needs me to…” I tuned out after that. It was too late now anyway.
