Originally posted by: BlackWitch
I was 8, when my parents asked me who do I love more. I said “both of you equally.” I saw the disbelief on their faces, as they reiterated that they won’t mind if I spoke my truth. I insisted “both of you equally!” . They finally gave up and moved on to another topic. But I remember the frustration their disbelief caused me as a child. How could I choose one part of my heart over another?
My father was a quiet man, content to sit in a corner and read his books. He was in the army, had simple needs and was away on another posting for majority of the time. My mother was a vivacious model, who loved sparkling conversations and parties. Coming from a stifling and violent household, she was experiencing freedom for the first time and wanted it all. The glitz, the glamour, the sophisticated and powerful people of show biz that gave her the platform to shine.
They got married too early and grew up apart, each leading a life that the other would not get interested in. They could not talk on things that mattered to them. And so, the silence became lengthier. Their primary conversation became just me.
From quiet acceptance, resentment creeped in. It covered the floor, the walls, creeping into my room where I prayed for the fights to stop till I fell asleep. When I woke up, there would be a coldness in my home. That coldness became a friend that greeted me when I came back from school each day.
The first time my parents discussed the possibility of separating, I cried. I locked myself in my room and I cried till the tears won’t fall. It was my first heart break.
The last time they told me, I locked myself in my room and I cried. I fell to my knees and cried, but this time mixed with grief was relief. With the relief, came guilt. Was I happy that my parents were separating? Yes, I was happy. I wanted the biting cold in my home gone.
So, when my parents gave me a choice again, I chose my mother. My father held me on the kitchen floor, wept and promised never to leave me. I clung onto him and that promise, never believing that other half of my heart was to be punished for my choice.
My father married again, and never looked back at me. I learnt as a child not to trust promises, never to believe that those who love you, can’t just get up and leave. At some point, as I grew up and reached out to him for comfort, he told me that he can’t talk and doesn’t owe me anything.
It’s then that my love for him withered and died.
All I want to say by sharing my story is that if you’re unhappy in your marriage, please leave. Don’t stay for your child. Don’t hand them memories of a cold home. Don’t let them suffocate in a place where their parents don’t love each other. Resentment, even of the quiet kind, has a deafening sound.
But if you can, please love your children beyond your marriage. Please care when they are hurt. Please talk to them. Please let them believe in promises and the sanctimony of love. They want very little, just your happiness and a tiny irreplaceable corner in your heart. I hope you can do that much.
Hindi TV Shows
Bindi
Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi 2
Jodha Akbar
18