Click here for shortcuts to regional language blogs and city-specific events.
Once there was a lovely girl as free spirited as her wanton curls. She was the cherished princess, the apple of her mother’s eye. The mother moved heaven and earth to make sure her princess got her way and raised her carefree. She wanted her daughter to have all that she never had. Freedom of thought, action.
Soon the princess grew to be a lissome lass. She was all ready to take on the world. As she set about painting myriad colors on the wide canvas, she caught the handsome prince’s eye.
The prince had been raised in a household where discipline, code, tradition, structure were the corner stones, where mama doughty ruled the roost. Toeing the line was the only option and crossing the Laxman Rekha of propriety was simply unheard of.
This Bindass Babe with her bohemian, devil may care attitude set the prince free. He started tasting pleasures that were always denied to him. He felt unfettered in her presence. He brought order to her chaos, made her sturdy. Together they complemented each other.
As they say, when opposites meet, sparks fly. This brand new couple was the toast of every happening party in Youngistan. They were hopelessly in love. They could not wait any longer. They were in a tearing hurry to solemnize and legalize their relationship.
All hell broke loose at the mommiedoms. Lassie’s mommy, much weathered and wizened, could see the raging storms ahead, sense the trouble in that perfect paradise. Lassie just overruled those stupid fears. She always got her way, you see.
Prince’s mom hated the girl of his dreams already, for she stole her darling son right under her nose. Some witchcraft the lass must have practised, for the son who never even uttered a whiff of dissent, now openly pooh-poohed her diktats. Lassie stood no chance.
Finally, after much heart burn, for the sake of their children, the mommies agreed for the wedding. It was a fate worse than tsunami. To find a middle path between the muddle of faiths, cultures, traditions, religions and rituals was torture unplugged. Everyone forgot that man made religion. God and love were always there.
After much bad blood, the young couple set up a tiny nest in the big bad city. One by one, the mommies came to settle in their fledglings. Their overflowing maternal love over their respective wards, became the tipping point in the young couple’s relationship.
The perfect mirror began to show cracks of stress. The prince wanted the lassie to reign in the very bohemian spirit with which he fell in love. To him, she was eternally out of control, ever ready to snap. The lassie found the prince to be a control freak, stunting her, muffling her, forgetting that those very annoying traits brought stability to her.
They both mulled seriously about breaking ties, vexed with daily bitter altercations, ego strifes. Life was simply unbearable with this self inflicted emotional baggage. The matrons were of course flabbergasted. After the initial “I told you so”, pleaded with the angry and hurting children, to reconsider, to have better sense. But the no-longer-in-love couple was adamant. It was better to move on. Better to amputate than to carry on with festering wounds.
But God and life had their own plans. Lassie was going to be a mother. This brand new life became the glue to so many ties, bringing back sanity. Each party saw an extension of self in that child.
Lassie mellowed down. In that great battle of life, she realized she didn't have win every tiny war. Prince sobered and softened up. Easy did, Easy lived - happiness regained. Matrons finally let of the apron strings. They had lived their lives their way, now it was up to the young couple to lead theirs, their way. Better sense prevailed all around and the little angel was going to be raised with love and happy amalgamation of both cultures and religions.
Hopefully, paradise regained would be retained. Surely a great way to live.