learning to be blissful

The digits on the cell-phone clock contain a rhythm of seconds in steps and I can feel tiredness seep into my pores like a rising tide. My body sinks into the faded grey leather seats of the car, tiredness making my legs at once jumpy and leaden. The car maintains a constant of 100KMPH and her purr a metronome of comfort until there is a sudden swerve and all of us leap up in a sudden aerial twist and land softly.


“Sorry”; he says. “Haulle” (Slow); Ma says


And we snuggle back in the dim lit silence. This moving motorized animal smartly cuts through the enveloping midnight December fog. I watch the digits choreographed in block steps moving forward and listen to night gathering. And, watch the white haze on the windows and the north Indian country sides rushing by. I can feel myself out there somewhere at the peripheries of things, like a jellyfish that is present only in its own pulsing.


A dozen days have whizzed by, already!!


Dulhan Chachi, Bhabhi, Bahu, Mami, Votti, DhyoutNu, Dewarni and a half a dozen more of such specialized titles … at a stroke of midnight, like all great turn of events... I stepped over into matrimony!


There might have been a time when I would have argued against the ceremonial hulla-ballo. But now I know it is a necessity like pressurized CO2 in Cola bottles. The flatness into the event would take the grace away. I know that for me it’s here and now, the reds and golds, the pinks and peaches … weaving saccharine carpets for the next avatar to tread upon.


The staccato episodes keep panning in and out… there was, me in them and there was me, outside them. A non-judgmental audience! I might have once been terrified of this. Or shy. Or outright rebellious against the so-called social nonsense; but now I know that somethings are better done the classic way. The crowd of relatives, the rambunctious merrymaking at home, the tired brother and overworked parents, the running sisters and cribbing sister-in-laws, the pampering grannies and the doting uncles. The flirtatious “baraat” and the solemn “vidaai”


I might have once been stubborn about not getting married. Or not needing a husband to survive. Or not needing a seal of society stamped on the relationship. But the last few years have borne enough aches to teach me this: growth happens when the moments are bitter and slow, when night happens early at the edges of my soul. And also this: that morning comes again. Bright and Sunny!


In my core I have resilience. In me there is a swift restorative sap that tells me again and again to have trust in my life. And, complete faith in the man I married.


I see myself lately in a different light and recognizing this feels a bit like finding a Polaroid of me in a shoebox and being unable to place the context or the time in which it was taken.


I have things to work at in this new inning. And being married puts me at odds with the things that I need to create a new me, with the recycled stuff of me-until-now. Being married makes me introverted and fragile and susceptible. It makes me tender and sore spent at the end of the day. And I still have months and perhaps years ahead of me of this balancing act before I stop working and see myself cocooned and comfortable in my new garb.


Somehow I’ll make it through. Somehow I’ll huddle in the palm of each day and wait to be handed by grace into the palm of the next. I’ll sip good chai, and make good chappatis and do a little puja and work at being a good human being and do justice to all these new titles. I’ll read poems that fill me up and write more. And I’ll wait… till the new me is recreated… and woven into the, me-now. A holistic me!


Till then I’ll breathe in the warmth of my husband’s skin and adjust to being Mrs. Sharma.


CpRyt@NeerS

13 comments:

Sojourner said...

:)
I'll send across a link... a little addendum through my Iris...

666 said...

:-)

Well I must say this is one of your best posts I have read.

I wish you all the best for the new innings. It shall bring with it many more horrors, pains and tribulations along with comensurate joy, bliss and happiness. May you learn to enjoy the whole shebang of being Mrs. Sharma

But I do hope you still continue to be 'Neers' made of glass ha ha

Cheers

seriously_frivolous said...

hey...congrats! was really fooled by the beginning :) So now we will see the influence of Mrs Sharma in Neer's blogs. Waiting to see how that works out

Neers said...

People, the blog remains quintessentially - "made of glass" :) and thank you, all!

starry nights said...

Congrats Neer and enjoyed reading this beautiful post.Wish you a happy married life.

eric1313 said...

Congratulations!

And the words you use are stunning. This flows like poetry. I hope that your married life flows the same way.

Air said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Air said...

Future Plans ... Mrs. Sharma ?

Kuan Gung said...

Congratulation neers and the very best wishes for the future and the new year!

Eclipsed Thoughts said...

hmmm....

All the very best and wish you a very HAPPY NEW YEAR!! and even HAPPIER NEW LIFE!!!

r Y said...

This was too good Neers like thinking thru out of nowhere !!! Be urself as always u 've ever been and keep trust in urslef.. glory is coming ur way.. cheers n Big God bless !!! U ROCK !! al the time !!

Margie said...

Hi Neers,
Oh, I see you got married Dec 8th.
My warmest congrats to you!
I am so happy for you.

I so enjoyed this post...beautiful writing!

Happy New Year...may 2009 bring you much joy & peace!

My best to you....always!
Be happy, Mrs. Sharma.

Margie.

Margie said...

I was wrong....Dec.7th was your wedding day...
Well, hope it was a perfectly lovely day...
in every single way!!!!

Margie:)