Post: 14th August
Do married couples have these
conversations in their heads or just the divorced ones? I mean I talk a
lot to myself these days. I sound very calm, composed and collected in
my head, especially dealing with subjects I don’t have to deal in any
more.
We all marry for reasons that make sense and sometimes for
reasons we force fit to make sense. Usually love bears the brunt of
this choice. Some are honest enough to admit it was the hormones, for
many it’s the persuasive whining of family or an innate need to
procreate. Others need to find someone sober to settle down with,
because alone and lonely start disconcertingly merging together, too
often.
But deep into these relationships, what precisely is it that becomes of this *reason*, this Choice?
It starts on a high, a very high *high*, some would agree. A high which
some would again agree, becomes unsustainable. The usual courtship and
mating rituals follow and keeping hands off each other becomes
practically impossible. (You can see Lothario strut the street style
every time the couple enters the room).
The indiscreet pleasure
of being able to just hold, touch, caress, feel, is a wonder of wonders.
No one seems to have a problem any longer how often you are caught
kissing on the sly. The simple thrill of being able to get away with the
naughty stuff so often and so easily keeps the couple grinning like
imps in the early years, and that secret pleasure is what maketh many a
sardonic proverb on this rather erotic yet pious scheme of things.
You hang around each other, you hang on to each other’s words, hang on
to those clandestine urges, you hang on to your mobile phones, your
senses soaked in pheromones jumping all over, thanks to an unchecked and
fire at will libido. How much better can it get. She makes the tea and
he tosses the eggs. You can almost hear the harp playing in the
background.
But then again, there is a damn good reason why they
anointed this phase *honeymoon*. I love the energy with which young
couples talk about weddings. Honestly, it’s so fetching, so
Karanjohar in your living room.
It starts very small. Tiny adorable arguments. Small stolen moments of
freedom between urgent emergent lists of to dos. Quick romantic dinners
sliced between school fees and EMIs. Holidays in between year ends and
budgets. It goes on for a while.
Time passes. The lacy stuff goes to the back of the drawer. The
Jockeys
come out in full freedom and flourish. Time brings home a new friend
from work one day. He's cute, chubby, smiles a lot, loves your Jockey
collection and an untimely snooze. Enter Comfy.
Now this fellow,
he has a very persuasive voice. And it makes sure he befriends you. He
also is the sibling Abel to your Libidinous Cain.
Some find a
sense of purpose in explaining why Comfy is always welcome everywhere,
even in the bedroom, where Libido marked his territory with random ease,
once, in a galaxy far far away. Some make it their life’s mission and
some have children to explain his intrusion. He is so, you know...comfy.
This pattern is not unhealthy, nor unusual. It’s what makes the first
few years seem memorable in hindsight. Circa 20 something B.C (Before
Comfy).
.
Creepeth the hour, cometh the boredom. And one fine
morning, you start feeling it in your bones. The slow and drugged walk
of the everyday. The silent march of routine. The monotony of shopping.
Deciding what to make for Dinner. How the weekend could be, should be
something more. Movies, endless chatter about the hottest series
downloading impatiently on your
#Netflix. The unending spinning cycles of this and that. Books, music, friends,
Facebook, family, alcohol and food. They add up the equation beautifully.
So the partner has downloaded stuff for you. It’s a movie night. No
wait, what the hell, it’s a documentary. Damn, it’s 10.30pm. You are
eating, slowly, very slowly, masticating every morsel...sneakily
watching the hands tick past...you are observing your food ingredients
with great intent. Naturally, you have missed 3 big end-of-the-world
punch lines by Sir
#DavidAttenborough in the meantime. You swear under your breath. This wouldn’t happen if it was
#BenedictCumberbatch
now would it, but no, let’s do wild life nights. You have ideas of a
certain kind of wild life of your own, which your mate simply won’t
comprehend anymore. He sits fuming under the kebab rolls. You settle the
dishes and plonk on the warm little hole you dug for yourself earlier.
The silence of the TV is matched evenly by the two souls trying to
pretend how urgent tomorrow morning is going to be.
You know it’s
disconcerting how No one ever ever ever ever talks about which partner
farted or burped first and openly in the bedroom. Now that’s a huge
Mount Sinai right there!! And who do you think got you past that? Eh?
Eh? (*notice the smug look on Comfy’s face?).
Maybe this chubby
happy go lucky fellow eats conversation for appetizers. Big appetite the
bloke has. You feel no great need to speak of the irrelevant stuff
anymore. I mean, seriously, what would she care about the moron at
office who simply won’t fix the printer or the moron for that matter you
have to call Boss every day...In any case one prefers the sports
channel or NGC, or maybe she is on that episode of
#Suits
where Mike gets arrested. (Now I would love to tell you about Sasural
Simran Ka here, but I haven’t the foggiest, so I am guessing it has its
moments). And all these episodes, sans interruption, it just sums up the
day so perfectly. Like that neatly tied bun on her head. So tidy, so
effortless, so er...not sexy.
Thing is she just served dinner.
Everyone looks fed and peaceful. The house smells of contentment and
roasted cardamom. Sounds have petered out. Even the In laws look stoned,
the curry was that good. You deserve this hour with your book and your
music and your TV. But you are not out of the woods yet. One partner for
sure will give the horny look. Some people just don’t believe in that
childhood *early to bed* axiom. You still have that presentation to
wrap. Sir Libido flexes his muscles in full abandon. It’s going to be a
long night.
You don’t wake up very fresh. You make a mental note
to tell the other how this exercise must commence sooner and definitely
before dinner! What do they know of deadlines??!!
Gone is the
need to be stupid, to indulge in the banter, the teasing, the touching…
feels meaningless somehow to repeat the obvious with someone you know
will respond in a particular way to a particular stimuli. The once shiny
New has left and with her walked out her petulant child, Libido. Comfy
owns you now. You are comfy. Your pyjamas are divinity itself. Believe
me it is damn inoffensive and deeply comforting to be in bed with your
life partner. In bed, and to be fair not always trying to adapt the
latest paperback of ‘’Kamasutra for the uninitiated’’.
You see, it is after all, school night.
I reckon this of anyone 10 -15 years into their wedlock and the answer will likely correspond with,
- that’s not fair, it was just one match... Manchester United Vs Chelsea, I mean c’mon!!
- of course she is still hot, but, I mean it’s her, what’s the big deal? We still do it once a week anyway
- it’s the kids, you know, ever since the second one...
- yes he looks fit but you know, I get so tired by the end of the day
- but we just had dinner and I get all gassy you know right after…
Let’s not get judgmental. It is effing unfair to poke horny fingers at
people who see each other dressed like delinquent inmates,
intermittently released on parole, desperate for a bunker, on a
self-styled prison life term.
The morning after, you start with a whimper. It’s a toothbrush and loo chatter that coalesces at a table of bread and
#Kellogg and usually ends with speed marching to an
#uber
or a car. Sometimes a metro or even a brisk run. Now sexy couples and
some determined souls don’t give in so easily... they keep on trying. So
amend that stuff above and add this. A quick peck or sometimes even a
friendly hug followed by a fussed over lunchbox usually kicks off this
delightful routine of *I still love you*.
This pattern is
sometimes broken by a sudden and recurring urge. She is wearing this
beautiful dress and looks terrific in it. He smells good. Some old
things get rekindled. You both smile at each other a lot. You both walk
home from a movie. You dump the kid at the grandparents and sneak off
for the weekend. This happens. A lot. It keeps the oxygen supply to the
”bleary which” project going. It’s that charming god particle I think
that has been observed as the single biggest religious cause for content
grey haired mildly out of shape fifty somethings looking at their
spouses with deep affection at weddings and other collective gatherings.
But the following day pattern, by now so ingrained in the life of, sets
in. One doesn’t even realize how efficiently the banal has overpowered
the adorable, the cute small stuff that made this adventure all so
exciting in the first place. The office hours and the chores of the day
take up the big half, the rest of the space gets Venn-diagrammed between
the kids while the remaining quarter, earlier saved sacredly to risqué
chats and hush-hush giggly plans of *let’s do that right after…* gets
gently swallowed by silences.
The way home is an unusual space
for the employed. It varies between a dreary walk back to a house which
has too little and nothing new to offer or an exhausted march to get a
cup of tea with the family and some much needed R&R. Some lucky
people love this trudge home. Home. Where the other waits. Smiling. But
it’s rare.
Chop chop to the majority. This walk home can get
really long if your partner doesn’t share your interests or looks down
on those tiny windows of all that inanity that made you whole once, but
now seem unbearable or plain juvenile. Your space, that box of *today I
want to do this* gets slowly corrupted with ideas of what suits your
partner. You seek your space to simply be. You start making check boxes
of things. You work at it. Relentless to please. Or you simply take a
detour for that drink or a cup of coffee with someone, someone who likes
talking about the latest gaming console or some such.
For those
who miss the attraction the most...the drift settles in rather rapidly.
They usually find excitement elsewhere. Some look for love in people
while others sort trinkets and expensive baubles when the partner seems
too distant to bother. And some just walk a lonely path back and forth
from the kitchen to the bedroom each night.
Marriage is beautiful
for millions, make no mistake. And I for one, have always wondered what
is it that makes these two divergent worlds of almost perfect and
utterly boring, spin differently from the other. And it has forever
escaped me, while I was happily married, what was it that couples forgot
to do. What is it that one could do different? Was it just the loss of
attraction? Was it important to keep saying those things that were so
casual and yet pleasant to the ear? Is it that important to seduce or be
seduced from time to time? How important are looks, is it key to stay
in shape these days? Do children bring in a whole new dimension that
makes sure the partner starts looking at you differently? Is it the
whole family thing?
Surely, it must be wonderful to come home to
something as welcoming as a family. But why does Libido keep walking
off in such a huff? What’s his problem anyway?
Or did you just
grow up? You now understand and appreciate what’s really at stake? Does
reality bring in a status check on what’s truly important? Education,
health, celebrating the small stuff ...forgetting yourself for the
larger audience? The smile that lights up his face when you bring home
that lemon tart which he loves to eat...now that smile right there, how
do you beat that?
For some this comfy chap brought in a much
larger slice of life...he simply taught you to fall in love with the
teddy bears on the pyjamas. For some this gap between pyjamas and
passion only split the two siblings, into parallel universes. Do some of
you now exist in your own separate solar systems? I don’t know. I am
not on that trajectory anymore. But it would be an interesting and
rather liberating evening, to have an uninhibited chat with my muchly
married friends on what they feel, sometime soon.
