Last Saturday we turned 9. Mr. M and I, that is. That means, 9 years ago on this day, I was freaking out and trembling from head to toe, begging my grandma to convince my dad to call off the wedding. I was so desperate that I was prepared to be a bonded labour for the rest of my life so I could pay off whatever money had been spent on wedding arrangements, the groom’s travel from Sydney to India and whatever else the groom’s family wanted to sue me for.
Ours was an ‘arranged’ marriage and it was sooooo arranged that it came as a shock to everyone who knew me. All my friends who knew me inside out had decided that there was no way on Earth or anywhere else in this universe that I would have an arranged marriage. Let’s just say I was a bit of a rebel and they had lofty expectations from me. I never really believed in the institution of marriage. I still don’t. I don’t understand the need for it. I don’t know why it exists and what purpose it serves (In fact, I think that is precisely the reason I was married off as soon as I turned 21). So, my friends thought I was kidding when I told them I was about to marry a guy I had never seen in person. I, on the other hand, was super excited, feeling mighty adventurous and all. I had been 21 for just a couple of months. I didn’t want to get married that early but Mr. M couldn’t wait and I didn’t throw a big fuss. I just went with the flow, trying to look at the brighter side of it all. I was excited to leave home and move to Australia. I was day-dreaming my days away.
Before I knew it, it was D-day. The day before the wedding was when I met Mr. M for the first time, surrounded by all these strangers who, I was told then, were his family. My own family, however, was nowhere to be seen. They had all very promptly left me with the groom and his people and disappeared. Vanished into thin air. Every single on of them. Immediate and distant alike. That’s when I finally lost it. I saw the decorations at the wedding hall, the groom, his family, his extended family, his friends and the seriousness of it all finally dawned on me. Right that moment I wanted to turn around and flee. I wanted to run and run till I reached the ocean, after which I would have to swim, of course. I was nervous as hell. I was nearly in tears and was cursing myself for being such an impulsive oaf! What was I thinking? 9 years later, even now, when I recollect the events of those couple of months leading up to my wedding, I feel my heart pounding and the anxiousness building within me.
But then, now I think of the years that followed and I see that my instincts did not fail me. I do not regret it one bit and there is no one else in this world I would rather spend the rest of my life with. He might not be perfect, but he is perfect for me. And I love him more than anything else in the world.
Happy Anniversary, my love and I look forward to many more beautiful years with you…