My mother and I are- different.
She’s a social phenomenon. I’m a bit verbal-accident prone.
She drives like a maniac- Nascar should be glad to have her. I drive. And that’s a big deal. Really.
She spends her days in a whirlwind of energy doing good deeds and completing the leftover tasks of others. I spend my days wondering what to do and how to avoid things that need to be done.
My mom gets what she wants. Me, I let her.
The one thing you truly learn because of your parents is the art of compromising. I’m Picasso in that field.
But that’s got to stop. Now. I’ve rolled over and died way too may times in my life; where I went to school, what I studied, and who I’m marrying; but I cannot let her make one of the most important decisions of my life: the furniture of my bedroom.
The only major disagreement I’ve had with my parents ever since my engagement has been what they’re giving me for my dowry. I’m anti-everything. It’s enough they’re giving their educated, soon-to-be-barsar-e-rozgaar (I got a job by the way :D), intelligent, presentable, ex-rotaract president, naazon-pali yet still sugharr beti away; why do they have to go bankrupt thanking them as well? To be honest, S’s family should be the ones bending over backward in gratitude. But sadly, coming from a fascist family, all my logic and reasoning is drowned by a single glance from the dictator my father, who says it’s none of my Goddamn business.
And just like that, I rolled over and died again. Next time I won’t even try to save them money.
But back to my mother. She and I, as previously mentioned, are different. My mother is Baroque. I am Bauhaus.
Let me illuminate.
My mother said if that’s the kind of stuff I like she’d get me a chaarpai and two stools. I replied if that was the sort of stuff you were planning to give me, I’ll take the chaarpai and two stools gladly. Needless to say it all went downhill from there.
I didn’t take a stand for S. I mean, why should I have? He was gift-wrapped, with a bow and card, and dropped into my lap on Valentine’s day. Sorry baby, but you were. You’ll have to deal with the fact that I will take you for granted all my life.
And I didn’t take a stand against S. I had nothing and nobody to fight for- except a principle that I should be in love with the man I marry. I killed that principle too- experience has taught me being in love with a man doesn’t necessarily mean he should love you back. I’ve never regretted my decision for an instant though. I will, shukar alhamdulillah, actually be in love with the man I marry.
I didn’t take a stand for SCAD either. That dream is dying a slow but painless death. Someday, maybe, I’ll be able to earn enough to pay my way through the Masters program…but all I have is my fingers crossed. I’m not giving up, just giving in right now.
I didn’t take a stand for pretty much anything in my life. I’m one of those crazy lucky people who don’t expect much and thus get handed over things they didn’t really ask for (mashaAllah). So I’m not really that adept at fighting the good fight. I prefer letting things go….and complaining later.
But I can’t compromise on this. All I’ll have in my new house, with my new family that would truly be mine (other than S), is this one room. I want something that’ll define me and him (who has marvelous taste in furniture by the way- almost exactly like mine) and not what my mother thinks is a fitting room for a bride. I’m going to be a bride for one night- the rest of my life I’ll just be trying to stay Hira.