Today’s paper reported a suicide. “A 23 year old air hostess hanged herself on Saturday”. The paper reported that she had “everything going for her”. But she had filed an FIR with the police against her in-laws. The husband had harassed her more than once for dowry. The same story. Drunken husband, the beatings, all that.
But what struck me the most was this.
She had married her husband while she was still 18. Yes, 18. Apparently, she met him at a local mall and fell in love with him. The parents conceded after a while and the couple got happily married a few years back.
My point is this.
A mall? 18?
Tell me, do you even know what love is at that age? Sure, you’ll have your crushes and infatuations. You might like every other girl/guy. Think he/she is cute/cool/beautiful/hot/what-not. But are you ready for commitment? Oh yeah, wait, you don’t know what that word means. Try asking
I’ve seen high school kids rant about their “love”. Which standard? 8th? 9th? 10th? This reminds me of that Kannada movie where a 10th std girl was depicted falling in love with a college guy( I may be quite mistaken, check the review). The two child artists (pardon the pun) apparently romanced on screen. And if your outlook is anywhere near mine, you’ll say “Duh!”. I’ve seen my friends babble on their high school “love”. I’ve politely listened to all that for about two years now. But seriously, am like “What? Get a life!. Dud!”
Teenagers saying “I love you!” all the time, to every other person. Bah!
Those words have to mean something when you say them. Truly mean something. Its like a binding, invisible contract, if I may say so. One of my good friend in one of his short stories talks about such a bond, made with the hands. I was quite happy to note that at least someone really gives true love some value.
Do not assume that I have no experience on such matters of my own. I’ve had my share of crushes and more. I might have stumbled once, but I picked myself up at the right time.