Chapter 45: The ‘Happily Married’ Divorcee


{Disclaimer: This post contains extreme views that you might be gravely offended by. Enter at your own risk.}

Chapter 45

May 15, 2014

Every time the thought of killing myself comes to me, I ask myself these questions. Who would be the one most affected by my death? No, not my child—my mother. Children seldom love their mothers as much as mothers love their offspring. She’d already lived half her life grieving her love’s untimely demise. I couldn’t gift her another lifetime of grief.

And then, I tell myself, there’s always an alternative to ending your life: End the source of your misery. If it’s a relationship that makes you feel helpless, end it.

Yes, I did just say that. Divorce is one of the f-words of our small town culture, especially if mentioned by a woman. But what is the point of being in a relationship that foists all of its disadvantages upon you without manifesting the delightful advantages? It makes you deal with unmanageable kids, endless parenting duties, heckling relatives and everything else that comes with marriage, but it provides no love, no care, no moments of laughter and tenderness, no moments of passion and lovemaking, no moments of exploring the world together, no moments of pouring your heart out to each other. It’s a travesty of a marriage that provides no companionship.

Why would I let myself be encumbered with a marriage that had become a farce of itself?

Marriage isn’t something beautiful on its own, beauty in life and in death. It isn’t a rose, beautiful in withering—fragrance inseparable from dried petals that grace the coffee table in a pot-pourri. Marriage is a living animal of flesh and blood, a human being. Beauty and innocence and trust, when it’s born; healthy and strong and purposeful when nurtured, slowly growing strong enough to withstand the inevitable blows and cuffs of life.  But withering makes it ugly. Neglect and abuse deform it— like the perishable human self. And when it dies, it becomes a rotting, decaying carcass. No matter how much you love someone, you can’t keep their corpse with you forever.

Why should the corpse of a marriage remain?

A successful marriage isn’t one that lasted for so many decades, as our grandmothers have lectured us forever. It isn’t one that trudged on unhappily, with one partner oblivious of the agony of the other. A successful marriage is one where the love lasts. A loveless marriage is no marriage at all. It is a bitter separation cloaked in the hypocrisy of dutifulness.

The irony of my situation then, is almost laughable. To want to end a marriage that was beloved, cared for and cherished like a chubby little pampered child.

Only, where was the marriage now? Where was that man now? Meeting him periodically for exactly 6 days after 5 months. Is that a marriage? Bringing up a baby alone—with your mother or your mother in law for help. Is that a marriage? Staying with your parents/in-laws and working on your job. Is that a marriage?

What does it mean to be married? Is marriage an institution for producing kids and bringing them up? But a single woman can bring up kids too— you could go for adoption like Sushmita Sen, or you could just get someone to donate their sperm.

No woman wishes to be encumbered with a virtually partner-less marriage. Marriage is partnership. It is friendship. It is a pledge of love.

It’s the brick and mortar of the walls you live in. Would you still call it a home if you could live in it for just two weeks in a year? Would you still be owning a home if for the rest of the entire year you’d be sleeping out on the pavement?

Homeless homeowner. Partnerless marriage.

————————————————————–

On the subject of divorce, we’re rather fond of patting our backs. We look at the higher divorce rates in other countries, and we flaunt our 50-year long marriages with all the pride of the champion. Not all 50-year-long marriages really are marriages, though.

Divorce is terrible. It’s terrible for a sacred bond to have to be broken. Most of all, the reason why most elders would talk you out of divorce is to protect the children from being subjected to the hurts of a broken home. When the parents live together, the child gets the nurturing that’s his/her right. They live in a happy, balanced home and they learn the correct dynamics of a healthy, respectful man-woman relationship. A divorce breaks that connection; it breaks the home into jagged shards of itself. Even then, families do come together on events like birthdays and festivals. At least once, maybe twice a year.

But then how is that any different from one of those marriages where the husband is settled abroad, and the wife takes care of the kids—living either with her own parents or those of her husband—and the man comes to visit his family just about once a year—or even less? How does that not qualify for a broken home? The son, the daughter, meets the father just once, twice in the span of 12 months— 365 days. They are left wanting for attention—there’s neither that fatherly love nor the fatherly discipline for the rest of those fatherless days. How then does it qualify to be better than a divorce?

Only on paper, only in your mind.

Only in the lessons we’ve been taught about our purpose in life being to serve quietly and never demand.

Only in being able to escape the word ‘divorcee’ that would stick to you like a crown of thorns for the rest of your life. But in truth, your plight is worse.

There ain’t no divorcee like a ‘happily married’ divorcee.

 

 

(Postscript: There are various circumstances—such as those of a member of the Armed Forces, for instance, where the distance between families becomes unavoidable. The difference between those cases and this is that when you marry such a person, you make an informed decision; you make a choice knowing full well its consequences. But that is only when you’ve made an informed choice, not merely out of societal norms. )

 

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