The Trouble with Hating You

by Sajni Patel

While my friends may have ended up in perfectly content matches, I couldn’t give in to the archaic practice of this whole arranged marriage business. Or marriage in general. Or commitment, for that matter. No. Freaking. Thank. You.

Liya is opinionated and strong and doesn’t take crap from anyone. Maybe the problem here is you and not her. All that judgmental, sexist shaming you’re doing isn’t reflective of her but defining you.”

Oh, if only she knew that there wasn’t a concrete barrier between me and the harsh, destructive world. Those same stupid things got to me, too. With Preeti, society wanted to humiliate her because she fell in love with a non-Indian. With me, society wanted to banish me because I wasn’t chaste and polite and un-opinionated.

“I know you don’t approve of the traditional ways. We weren’t blindly arranged, and I have the option to decline. Arranged does not equate to forced,” Sana said.

Be honest, Liya. It’s marriage that you abhor.” “It’s true.” I shrugged. “It’s an archaic practice. Who wants to marry someone just because parents and society tells us we need to, or because we’re getting too old? Who wants to be tied down to the same man forever? Who wants to have to answer to a man? Who wants to be trapped?” Who wanted to be hurt when they were let down by their man? But there was a critical, heartbreaking question beneath it all: who wanted to marry a broken woman?

“They worry about your safety. My girls didn’t move out until they were married. It saved their name. We didn’t want rumors to start. And once a girl’s reputation is sullied, no good boy will marry her.” “I guess that only matters if I want to get married one day.” “Oh, my! Of course you’ll get married one day. You have to. What’s the purpose of life without a family, a husband and children?”

But without evidence of his sexual assault against me, his word against mine, the saint against the whore, there was no point.

“That’s a tired excuse. She’s imperfect, too. We all are. Being imperfect isn’t an excuse for you to slander. And she has every right to be here. Sounds like maybe you need to sit in the front row during sermons as much as anyone else.”

“I’m grateful. Believe me. But didn’t you wish that you could just enjoy life?” Jahn replied, “It’s my honor. Remember that word? It’s what our parents taught us. We don’t blame people or hate situations. We deal, accept, move on, and make the best of it. We’re fine now. Why? Because we remained strong and kept focused. It was hard, but worth it. I had the honor of taking care of my family and still getting my degree.

Liya wasn’t the only one taking a risk. I hadn’t accepted that I deserved a happy ending, and going for one felt a little lost on me. But there was something about Liya, a magnetic pull that compelled me to try. “Why won’t you give me a chance?”

Good guys didn’t date me. Bad boys, irresponsible jerks, players, or short-term commitments came around. Those who wanted sex, a good time were constants. Men fell into three categories: ones who wanted me for my body, ones who were intimidated by my personality, or ones who dismissed me because of my reputation.

Despite how much we fought, my body always responded to her. She woke me up. I came to life. My heart beat as if it had never beat before. My pulse sizzled, my veins throbbed, my gut tightened.

My skin burned. “Didn’t you say that if I wanted to get intimate with someone, it would be with you?” “Intimacy doesn’t have to be physical.”

I pulled back after he landed a final soft kiss to my lips. We stared at each other longingly. We still had boundaries: His not to cross anything beyond kisses. Mine not to venture anywhere near love.

“A pretty thing like you shouldn’t have to buy her own drinks,” he said with a wink. Some deep, dark, dank part of me worried how she’d react to other men hitting on her, or if I’d end up an emotional, jealous, constantly worried man-child. Liya tucked hair behind her right ear. “I can buy my own drinks. And I’m not a thing.” The man’s grin wavered. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that—” “And I’m here with someone.”

She waved in Mukesh Uncle’s general direction. “What I don’t care for is some man talking to me like that, telling me what to do with my sons.” I chuckled. I loved that Ma didn’t take any crap. Oftentimes, I was so occupied with protecting Ma that I forgot just how strong a woman she was.

“After all this,” she said with determination, “is why I’m reaching out to Liya’s mother and not letting her go. After all this is why I’m taking these matters to others in mandir. Mukesh is madness that will infect the community. We won’t stand for this.” “No. Don’t. It’s too much stress for you. I’ll take care of it.” “I’ll help,” Jahn added. “Shilpa and I will both help. We already discussed this. In fact, there wasn’t anything to discuss.”

“I came because you’re the one,” he rasped. “You’re mine. I’m yours. We don’t belong with anyone else. I don’t stand in front of you, or run after you. I walk alongside you. I will be damned if anything breaks us. Do you understand me?”

You challenge me. You keep pace. Hell, sometimes you even leave me in the dust. I love that. I adore you. You’re the madness I need, the passion I breathe, the spark that brings me to life. I will go wherever you are.”

“Won’t you hate me for making you leave your family?” “I talked to them. Before I even opened my mouth to tell them, they told me to go. With happiness. With blessing. With support.