Modern marriage masks old imbalances, where women adjust endlessly, and men still call the shots.
Times have changed dramatically (this with manic repetition whacked into your head) way back since the fag-end of the late 20th Century, and thus this everyday matter is, how would you phrase it, “cobwebby history”, so why mull over a reality which has long gone to a cavernous grave, you are admonished?! However, can one dream of striking an equilibrium when the imbalance is so acute, when there is not the slimmest, thinnest chance of standing on a level bridge, when, one of the two, comes with a kind of apology?! Truth, no matter what, one is repeatedly reminded, cannot be glossed over, or a honeyed version of how things are, can definitely not be served up like instant soup…the inequity is like a deep crevice that can’t, with the single sweep of the broom, be swept under a carpet, already grown lumpy with so many other matters to be shooed away or perhaps, concealed is the better word…before I go rambling on without telling you what in heaven’s I am referring to must , at this very second brake in my shoes, even if that means me scraping the soles of the brand new footwear I happened to have ,with smug satisfaction, slipped into early in the day, for a meeting to be held past 6ish and yes, around the same hour when this pen thinks it’s a good time to hang up its boots! The persistent, all-pervasive inequity, imbalance between husband and wife, the scale, usually speaking, tilting in favour of the man. It doesn’t matter that the woman might be as qualified as her “counterpart”, might be bringing home not only the bread & butter but the jam as well, besides of course, running the house like a tight ship, with all hands on deck (her hands comprising of “all hands”!) and that it’s only because of her that the home, mind you, not house, smells like a garden! Her roles are endless, and for the most go unacknowledged, her daily tasks, in my mind, can be likened to pinning jelly to the wall! Do you not think that in a partnership of any kind there has to be some sort of democracy—not a veneer of it or a dressed-up semblance of it! When so, so, many daily run-of the-mill decisions are being made unilaterally where does the lady of the house have any say?! Some quick visuals to run by you : The husband isn’t too fond of a certain dish but yet is not averse to it, and say in the company of his friends is readily agreeable to have that baingan ka bharta or that laden with a 100 calories cheese cake or go without a drop of milk in the Darjeeling chai served by the “gracious hostess”, so then why for the love of life, does he kick up such a shindy when his “better-half” orders a pastry which needs to be shared –its portion too big for one person, or becomes a fuss-pot when instead of his masala chai a cuppa black tea or as it often referred to “the champagne of teas” makes its way to the table! Small, insignificant matters, one might think but …but when it’s a day in and day out matter, how can one just swallow it without feeling the toad-eyed lump in one’s throat?!
Holiday destinations are pretty much decided by the man of the manor— beaches are not his idea of vacationing, so Goa is out, as are the out-of-India Sun &Sand Resorts like Bali, and thus one chooses a hill-station that he believes, suits every member of his ultra-nuclear family comprising of the wife, and daughter-dear and naturally himself !Who dare tell him that that they’d been to Simla, Nainital, Mussoorie so many times over, and if mountains it had to be then how about heading South to Coorg or Ooty?! And if perchance the “wife” musters the courage, yes courage, to casually slip in this suggestion, then be prepared to be given a long lecture on how the travel expenses etc. etc. would be tripled, given the long haul, and besides a hill-station was a hill-station, right?! (Yes, Shakespeare had it got right centuries back when he announced, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet!”) Yes, there he was bang-on right, the lady inwardly rolls up her eyes while she’s already planning which woollies had to be taken out for the trip and the other details that go into packing for three, closing the house… And what about when your husband scans your wardrobe and decides that what you were wearing for the dinner party was a tad too fancy, not befitting your age and so you might as well slip into something more toned-down, and by the way had it ever occurred to you that blue just wasn’t appealing?!Yes, now he is the Fashion Czar! It’s a different story that you might hold your ground and stick with the sky- blue, ankle- length dress that you team together with a string of pearls and matching eardrops since the dress is stylishly dotted with petite lilywhite flowers but you are self-conscious and a niggling doubt gnaws at you—are you looking decent?! Next time, I’d think the prudent thing to do, in this appropriate apparel scenario, would be to send the “significant other” a kind memo asking him to dole out his expert advice on the purchases you intend to make. (Yes, there can be no debate when dealing with a connoisseur!) Now, since the gentleman is averse to shopping especially when it concerns his spouse then the only route you have is to resort to the best means of communication—WhatsApp! (An aside: It’s become a way of life to be WhatsApping family members separated by a room! I can vouch for the veracity of this observation since this goes on under my own roof!) Now, the lady, so unsure of her shopping skills, keeps sending pictures of the clothes she had selected, waiting patiently for him to approve or de-select when he was on an inordinately long lunchbreak…
Funny that a woman manages the moods, adjusts the sails but it’s the man who steers the ship…. Going by this, democracy works effectively, seamlessly when one party makes all decisions…The delights of modern-equality, re-eally!