Poi solla porom
Thursday, December 16, 2010 by Mr and Ms Iyer
There is an old tamil adage which goes something like this - "You can tell a 1000 lies for a wedding."
That, is pre-marriage. Post-marriage, life has taught H and me an important lesson - "You will need more than a 1000 lies to save your marriage (from the clutches of your relatives)." Here, lying doesn't necessarily mean cheating, but merely hiding the truth, for a reason. For peace.
Frankly, H and I are too truthful for our own good. Occasionally, we do lie to one another, but then it hardly lasts a day. Well, yes, the truth does come out bitter, but it's not bitter enough to kindle our ego (BTW, do we have one?). For a few minutes, the otherwise talkative household mourns in utter silence, except for the blaring television. Even during these awkward moments, neither husband nor wife compromise. He sneaks his i-Phone beneath the cushion to check on the cricket scores and I sink my head into a tub of Amul icecream. And then, when it is bedtime, we twist and turn for two minutes waiting for the other person to reconcile. On some days, I shove my hands under his nightshirt for the warmth of his tummy, on others, he takes my hand into his tummy. Forgiven and forgotten.
That, is the easy bit. The tough part is to decide what/when to lie to our parents, the tougher part is the lying itself and the toughest, to keep up the lie. One simply cannot afford to confess the truth, because then, you will be faced with the impromptu question, "So, what else have you two hidden from us?" Tadaaaa! In case you haven't realized just yet, your relationship with them has gone for a toss.
H and I learnt this truth the hard way and then one fine day, we plotted a strategy: Two minutes before every call that we make to our parents, we would discuss the potential conversations that might require us to utter a lie. And then, just like the wedding vows, we stick together - in rain and shine, joy and pain, truth and lie. :D
Sometimes this dishonesty makes us guilty, sometimes we feel stupid, but most of times, it feels right. So correct, that we get goose pimples if we think of what would happen if we told them the truth.
The primary problem with a conservative middle-class Indian family is that they want their kids to be open, but are too shy to ask. So after a month into our married life, we were faced by the very obvious question, “Are you two happy? Any good news?” We answer only the first question and give away an uncomfortable smile to answer the second. Our mind’s voice is however shouting, “We are not vending machines!!!” Now, they are too shy to ask us again. So they wait for a year and then they can’t wait anymore. My mom secretly brushes me to the corner of the kitchen and asks me, “Are you on contraceptives?” Her tone is very authoritative, but her eyes are glued to the boiling rasam. “Cha! Cha!” I reply, too shy to look into her eyes. I can’t possibly say, “No amma, we only play with condoms!”
Like petty cash, some lies are really lame, but then if it cuts down on 10 minutes of advice, they are worth it. Hence, Sunday 11am sunrise becomes 7am, lazy and cuddly afternoons become laundry time, maggi dinners become idli dinners and so on...
At the end of the day, this has made us realize how important it is to have that special someone who is not only your life partner, but also, your partner in crime.
Mrs. Iyer in love
That, is pre-marriage. Post-marriage, life has taught H and me an important lesson - "You will need more than a 1000 lies to save your marriage (from the clutches of your relatives)." Here, lying doesn't necessarily mean cheating, but merely hiding the truth, for a reason. For peace.
Frankly, H and I are too truthful for our own good. Occasionally, we do lie to one another, but then it hardly lasts a day. Well, yes, the truth does come out bitter, but it's not bitter enough to kindle our ego (BTW, do we have one?). For a few minutes, the otherwise talkative household mourns in utter silence, except for the blaring television. Even during these awkward moments, neither husband nor wife compromise. He sneaks his i-Phone beneath the cushion to check on the cricket scores and I sink my head into a tub of Amul icecream. And then, when it is bedtime, we twist and turn for two minutes waiting for the other person to reconcile. On some days, I shove my hands under his nightshirt for the warmth of his tummy, on others, he takes my hand into his tummy. Forgiven and forgotten.
That, is the easy bit. The tough part is to decide what/when to lie to our parents, the tougher part is the lying itself and the toughest, to keep up the lie. One simply cannot afford to confess the truth, because then, you will be faced with the impromptu question, "So, what else have you two hidden from us?" Tadaaaa! In case you haven't realized just yet, your relationship with them has gone for a toss.
H and I learnt this truth the hard way and then one fine day, we plotted a strategy: Two minutes before every call that we make to our parents, we would discuss the potential conversations that might require us to utter a lie. And then, just like the wedding vows, we stick together - in rain and shine, joy and pain, truth and lie. :D
Sometimes this dishonesty makes us guilty, sometimes we feel stupid, but most of times, it feels right. So correct, that we get goose pimples if we think of what would happen if we told them the truth.
The primary problem with a conservative middle-class Indian family is that they want their kids to be open, but are too shy to ask. So after a month into our married life, we were faced by the very obvious question, “Are you two happy? Any good news?” We answer only the first question and give away an uncomfortable smile to answer the second. Our mind’s voice is however shouting, “We are not vending machines!!!” Now, they are too shy to ask us again. So they wait for a year and then they can’t wait anymore. My mom secretly brushes me to the corner of the kitchen and asks me, “Are you on contraceptives?” Her tone is very authoritative, but her eyes are glued to the boiling rasam. “Cha! Cha!” I reply, too shy to look into her eyes. I can’t possibly say, “No amma, we only play with condoms!”
Like petty cash, some lies are really lame, but then if it cuts down on 10 minutes of advice, they are worth it. Hence, Sunday 11am sunrise becomes 7am, lazy and cuddly afternoons become laundry time, maggi dinners become idli dinners and so on...
At the end of the day, this has made us realize how important it is to have that special someone who is not only your life partner, but also, your partner in crime.
Mrs. Iyer in love
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