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Posts Tagged ‘adjustment’

Marital Dyads: Likes Vs Opposites

Posted by Dheeraj Kattula on June 14, 2011

Statistically the ones at extremes are at the risk of being abnormal. At least they are worth studying, as they are definitely a different group compared to the rest. Marital dyads are as innumerable as the number of couples that exist. Let us take personalities of each individual in a dyad. In a random world there would be all sorts of combinations. Most people would share some aspects of personality with their spouse but would also differ equally in other aspects. A very few dyads would be absolutely identical or polar opposites. These special groups are worth looking at.

We could call the dyads in which the personalities of the couple are identical as mirrors. The partner in the mirror knows exactly what the other person likes because he likes it too. He does it and there is joy everywhere. What is disliked is disliked by both, so it would not figure in their lives. Mirror would be very happy.

The dyads in which the personalities are totally opposite, would understandably have friction. What is liked by someone for reasons arising from his/her personality could be disliked by the other person for very valid reasons. Even if the individuals alternate in decision making, one of them would be giving up every time. To avoid this giving up, they could choose to do their own thing independently. This would mean doing less stuff together. This could indicate a lesser quality in relationship. A level of unhappiness or decreased marital quality would be part and parcel of the marriage of opposites.

Is this the end of the story? Likes make happy couples and opposites only manage to pull on. In a hedonistic world, where pursuit of happiness is the ultimate thing, this could be true. One need not only be happy when his/her choice was THE choice. One could choose to be happy letting the other choose. Not that the choice induces happiness in him, but understanding that one is letting the spouse be happy with this, could induce happiness.

Sometimes choices are not simple. They could indicate different priorities, values and judgements. Here when one gives up, he/she gives up something more than a choice. It could be painful. Such adjustments have to be made for a marriage to remain healthy. That kind of giving up leads to maturity. This opportunity to grow in maturity does not occur in the mirrors. It is a consolation and positive externality in the marriage of the opposites.

A home with opposites covers  every perspective under the sun. As they relate to friends and society they can connect with a wide range of people because of their shared understanding. They can help people much more because of this. They would enjoy a much richer social life in this world. The mirrors on the other and would connect with their own kind. Their circle would reinforce their original behaviors. They may not change much in life. They can only enjoy life of a club.

An epicurean may feel that happiness is all that is needed. What is the benefit with maturity? Growing in maturity can be a reason for someone’s happiness. The idea that happiness is the measure of a person’s life is immature.

Whatever type your spouse is you have reasons to be happy. Don’t you?

Posted in challenge, love, marriage, social | Tagged: , | 6 Comments »

Love – Feeling, Reason and Choice: a story

Posted by Dheeraj Kattula on September 19, 2010

Background:

This is continuation of the story “Rights and Love”. If you have not read it, you could find it by clicking this. It was a story about a lawyer called James. His wife Agnes suffered with Schizophrenia. Under the influence of some delusions she attempted to murder him. He recovered and then took care of her. Despite all care she had not improved much. He continued to care for her despite the risk of harm that he could suffer. He surprised everyone with his love.

Love: feeling, reason and choice

It was nearly six months since Tab Clozapine was started. James reported that Agnes was doing well. She was not suspicious as before. She had started working again two weeks ago. She had put on some weight, but she got back the smile that she always had. As Agnes waited in the queue to get her medicines from the Pharmacy, James was called back by Dr Manas to the consultation room.

Dr Manas said “Mr James, I was glad to hear that Agnes is doing well. I wanted to tell you something. Do you have few minutes?” James was so happy that Agnes has improved so much. His eyes filled with tears as he said, “Of course doctor, you are always there for us. Please go ahead.”

“I have resigned my job here and I am moving to Kolkata. So I have transferred the care of Mrs Agnes to Dr Gurupreet Kaur. You have seen her during the in-patient stay. She is a fine doctor”, Dr Manas said as he looked away from James and stared into the empty sky through the window. He did not notice the crushed look on James’s face, as he nodded his head. James liked Dr Manas. He was a good doctor.

Suffering is not new to Dr Manas. He saw it every day. He was used to it. Despite his heroic efforts, his patients continue to succeed in suicidal attempts; they go off medications and relapse into full blown illness episodes. This was part of his life, but there was some suffering different about the case of Agnes and James that touched him.

“Mr James, I have seen many families with mental illness. They all care. If they did not care, the patients would not have been brought here or the family member would not have come here. I have seen people get beaten in episodes of rage. I have seen domestic violence exist in chronic form, but I have never seen one who had a brush with death because of an attempted homicide by a wife, care for his assaulter with so much of dedication and persistence. I admire you, Mr James. How do you do it? Is your marriage a love marriage?” Dr Manas inquired.

James smiled and replied, “I do not know if you could call it a love marriage. I guess you could. Agnes and I went to the same Church in Bangalore. Her parents had passed away in a road accident in her childhood. Her grandfather brought her up. He was a retired railway employee. They lived on his pension. He had multiple strokes and developed dementia. Agnes took good care of him. She used to bring him for the mass regularly. She was also active in the Sunday school.

I liked the way she behaved with children and elderly people. She was simple and had a simple lifestyle. I was interested in providing legal aid to poor people in Mumbai. I wanted to marry a girl who could fit in. I reasoned Agnes could be the right girl. I discussed this with the Church father. He was very happy. Agnes agreed to marry me. We got married after she finished her graduation. In the meantime her grandfather passed away. Then we moved to Mumbai.”

“Oh I see. Looks like you took a logical decision. Isn’t it?” Dr Manas asked.

James replied, “Yes sir. It was a 100% rational decision. I never had any flutter in my heart seeing Agnes nor did I miss sleep. In fact I have not had the feelings for Agnes that I once had for a girl…(smiles)

I had this feeling of being in love when I was in my 3rd year in the Law College. Permit me to leave her unnamed. She was the only daughter of a top criminal lawyer in Bangalore. She was obviously going to take over her father’s practice. Her father defends crimes done by politicians and their goons. She would have to do the same.

I desired a just society. If I married her, I would be aligning myself with enemies of truth and justice. I knew she was not the right girl for me.

Trust me; this knowledge did not help me lose feelings for her. I would get energized as if I had two cups of chai, if she were to just say a hello. I just cannot explain it. This ‘love’ seemed real, as I could feel it strongly. It lasted a year till she started going around with a minister’s son.” He smiled and added, “Thank God for that match! My emotions left. ”

“You said that you never had strong feelings for Agnes, but you seem to demonstrate love that I have not seen before. How is that?” Dr Manas asked inquisitively.

“Dr Manas, I have decided to love my wife Agnes. However she is, whatever she does, I will love her. I mean I would act in her interest. I might not have feelings like I had in college. I might not be as rational as when I had decided to marry Agnes. Love here is a choice I make.

In College years my feelings of love were not even in line with reason. They felt most real, but they were most deceptive. These feelings just evaporated. Imagine trusting those feelings and taking life decisions. My reason was stronger than my feeling when I decided to marry Agnes. If the situations did not change, reason would have been sufficient cause for a lasting marriage.

But things changed. You know it. I could have started a new life without her. Getting her out of prison and living with her in the same house with no one else, when she was still suspicious of me goes against sound reason. It was a choice I made to love Agnes that mattered. I thought in her interest. I had risk. I had fear. I faced it. It was ultimately a choice I made.”

“Mr James, I like the choice you made. I respect it. I appreciate it. In fact, you have inspired me to make such a choice. I normally don’t discuss my personal life with patients or their families, but I think you are different and I thought I could share this with you.

Let me first tell you that I hate Kolkata. I am a Bengali .I believe anyone who wants to work hard and grow cannot do so in Bengal. So, I always wanted to move out of Bengal.

I was involved in research which was being done in collaboration with the Indian Statistical Institute in Kolkata. I fell in love with a mathematician there. She was beautiful, brilliant and a Bengali. I had all reasons and all the feelings to get married. We married and were happy for few months. I then noticed that she was drawing closer and closer to her equations and was distancing herself from me. I do not suspect her for having an affair or any thing, but I felt she was not contributing to our relationship. I felt she was not valuing our relationship. Her equation was not an equality.

I got an opening here in Mumbai. I came here thinking that the distance would make her realize my absence and seek me. It did not work out. A couple of months ago I sent a divorce notice to her. Then I saw you. I saw what you were giving after having tasted what you had received. I knew this transcended reason and feelings. I thought I too should choose to love my wife.

Last month I called her and asked her forgiveness. I told her that though I hate Kolkata, I am willing to join her in Kolkata because I choose to love her. To my surprise, she wept. She felt sorry. She felt ashamed to call me and was desperately waiting for me to call. She too asked for my forgiveness as she had not been concerned for me.

She has requested a transfer to Indian Statistical Institute in Bangalore, with the idea that I can join NIMHANS. It is a matter of time that this would come through. I am glad I made the right choice. If I chose freedom as a right, we both would have lost. As I chose love, we both have gained.”

“I am so glad for you, sir. May God bless your marriage.” James blessed as a matter of fact.

Dr Manas held the hands of James and thanked him. Agnes came to the door after buying her medicines. They bid good bye to the doctor. Wiping his tears, the psychiatrist wondered when love as a choice is so beautiful and worthy, why we humans are so reluctant to choose it.

Posted in challenge, distress, drug therapy, emotion, ethics, fiction, love, marriage, psychiatry, schizophrenia, social, statistics | Tagged: , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments »

The Dirty Job: a story

Posted by Dheeraj Kattula on August 27, 2010

My mother was admitted in the hospital. She had burnt herself. We went to see her every day. Our grand mother took us there. The doctors in the Government Hospital were not friendly. They would not let us stay in the burns ward for long. My mother suffered from burn injuries, which I still think were not very serious. I have seen many with worse burns make it to life. She died within a week of her admission. It was the doctors who killed her with their treatments.

Ramesh took Choti and left the village just after my mother’s admission into the hospital. Choti was born to my mother and Ramesh last year after they started living together. I think my mother knew she was going to die, even though she was conscious in the hospital. She wanted her family to take custody me and my other siblings Babloo and Moti. Her family is big. My grandma and her other children promised to take my brother. They did not want me or my sister. After all we were girls and they were afraid that we would grow up to be like our mother. I was seven years old and my sister Moti was four. An old lady in our village took sympathy on us and took us in. We addressed her respectfully as an aunt.

I missed my father and mother. My father was an alcoholic, but he loved us. He visited us every alternate day and gave us stuff to eat. My mother had wanted to keep him away from us. She used to shout at him, when she saw him meet us. I realize she too loved us. She was beautiful. We all look like our dad. Choti looked like our mom. I missed Choti too. My father never took another woman. He loved our family. A few months after mother’s death, I heard his body was found in a gutter in the neighbouring village.

This aunt who took us into her home was old. She found it difficult to control me. I was indeed naughty when I was small. I was always in the street playing with other girls. I did not help her as much as I troubled her. She put me into a hostel. I like school. I studied for five years.

In the summer holidays, I came back from hostel to be with my aunt. She was taking us to her native village. I refused. It was a dirty little village. We would have to share our room with two buffalos that they have. The smell was horrible. Instead of going I could stay alone in our village. She told her friend who lived few streets away to take care of me.

Her friend whom I called as Padma mausi took me to her house for a couple of days. She fed me well. I liked her. She took me to her aunt’s place which was few more streets away. The house had many young girls. They were all involved in dirty work. I knew that. My aunt too was involved in it, when she was young and able. There are no dirty little secrets in our village. Everything was open. Even primary school children knew what happened behind closed doors.

Our village had night school. It was where all children slept, when their mothers were busy with dirty work in the night. I knew it all, so I could tolerate it. I could accept the girls in the brothel. We played in the free time. I got good food there. It was better than what my aunt gave.

After a month, the care taker of the house called me into her room. A young man was there. She showed me to him and left the room. I was afraid. I screamed. He was strong. I could not fight. It was painful. I wept. He abused the care taker for giving him such a lousy girl like me. The care taker smiled and said, she is fresh to the trade. I was beaten that night for having shouted. Padma mausi never came again. Neither did my aunt. I was stuck there. I am now a 14 year old prostitute.

I could not leave the brothel. I was confined to the indoors. I had freedom inside. I could wear anything. I could eat as much as I pleased. I had the company of many girls, though many were older than me. Once you get used to everything you begin to enjoy what you once detested. I enjoyed the company of men. I liked the sensations of my body. When I lived in hostel, I liked Abdul. I dreamt of marrying him. His memories have got erased now. I lost the fear of men. I have seen them all. The rowdies who come and demand us for free, the police who are supposed to protect us, young men contemplating marriage, middle aged men who lost fancy for their wives and old men whose wives have died.

I was kept hidden for the fear of a police raid. I was moved from one brothel to another for protection. Indeed there was a raid and I was rescued. I was kept in a home run by the Government. Apparently my brother Babloo contacted a NGO and they had organized the rescue operation. I hate Babloo for having done this. I had adjusted to a new life. I was even enjoying it. I did not have to go to school. This rescue screwed my life up.

I was kept in this Government run home. I was not yet 18 years old, so I did not have right to be involved in this business. There were many girls like me in that home. Many of them were forced into it, just like me. They too began to enjoy their new life, just like me. They too were not getting any money, just like me. The men who came to us gave us money. We were to hand it over to the caretaker. She would give back a small amount to the older girls. The younger ones would only get food, clothing and accommodation.

After I joined the new home, they did some blood tests on us to check if I had contracted any disease namely HIV. I did not get it. The new home had a teacher who came to teach us some basic stuff. I was best in my class, as I had completed my primary school. Most other girls were dumb. I was getting irritated with their fixed schedule. I used to shout back to the teacher and the warden. They would beat me at times. They also taught us moral ways to live. I could see from the lives of our teacher and other staff that there are better ways to live.

I get confused at times about what is happening? The past and future flood me with irritation. I get tensed and do things that I later regret. I just cannot control it, when I get into that rage. Last year I broke the TV, Computer and telephone in a fit of rage. They thought I became mad.

They took me to a doctor. He admitted me in their hospital. He was a young man. He looked respectable. I saw him joking a lot with his friends in the hospital canteen, but he was serious with me. He looked straight into my eyes. He probably was mystified with my story. He had sessions with me regularly.  I avoided his eyes in the beginning. I became more comfortable with him and shared more freely. Of course I avoided many areas which were uncomfortable for me to discuss with. In fact I do not remember much of those either. He was interested in those things, as if they had a key to a treasure.

He asked me one afternoon, “You did not go to your aunt’s village because you would have been uncomfortable. Am I right?” I thought it was obvious. He then asked me, “If you had gone off to your aunt’s village, would you have gotten into this mess?” I was shocked. It is true; I would not have gotten into this puddle of shit if my aunt was around. She was old. She was in the dirty trade herself, but she was strong enough to protect us. He then said,” There are many things in life, which are uncomfortable. If we run away from them, then we would get into situations which are even more uncomfortable. Isn’t it?” I agreed.  He then added, “Can you see a difference between what feels good and what is good?” I did not understand that, but I nodded. He smiled and said “Good!”

He taught me how to relax my mind and how to ventilate my anger in acceptable ways. The day of my discharge grew nearer. He asked me of my dream. Of, what I wanted to be. I told him what I always desired, “A dancer, in the movies.” I could see his eyes sink. He was not happy. He tried to tell me that it felt good to be a dancer in the movies but it might not really be good. He said that the movie industry had risks for girls like me. He said it is likely that vulnerable people may get into wrong things.

I am sure I am not getting into bad things. I detest the dirty work myself. I would never do it to get a chance to be on silver screen. There is something called talent in this world and people would recognize and reward it. The doctor is educated. He can know what is in books. He cannot pick dancing talent. He has stereotypical beliefs on movie industry. Other girls in our hostel have danced on movie sets. They have told me that they did not have to do dirty work to get dancing chance. They told me the heroines do it not dancers.

When I got discharged, I could see that the doctor smiling. His smile was empty. It looked as if he knew something dangerous was lurking around. More knowledge spoils the mood for everyone.

Next year, they will release me from the home. I still am unable to love my brother Babloo, though he had done everything in my interest. It is probably because I fomented hatred over him just because he caused me the discomfort of moving me to the Government home from the brothel. I don’t care about Choti and Moti too. It has been many years, since I saw them. I have lost feelings for those whom I can call as a family. I can be a free bird with no restraints. I can chase my dreams. I can go to Mumbai and try my shot in movies.

Epilogue:

"The dirty job is always available."

After discharge from home she went to Mumbai to become a dancer. She fell in love with a light-boy. He left her after a year, leaving behind a two month old daughter in her hands. She was hungry and her baby had no milk to feed. She came to know why her mother sought Ramesh despite having a husband and three kids. The main roads are busy and side lanes are dark. The dirty job is always available.

PS: (added on September 25th, 2010) There is a sequel to this story ‘ Bollywood, Brothel and Being Born Again’.You can find it here.

Posted in behavioral therapy, bussiness, distress, economics, emotion, fiction, gender, indian society, personality, psychotherapy, social, stigma, women's issues | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments »

A tale of two teachers: A story

Posted by Dheeraj Kattula on June 5, 2010

They were not just teachers they were cousins. They were lucky to get employed in the same Government run school. They spent considerable amount of time in our school, which is located in deeply rural area of Bihar, India. I knew both of them from the day of their joining. They were good at their work and were assets to our school. They worked overtime teaching village kids and encouraging their mothers. I liked them both. They were like my daughters.

Sita was the older one. She did her Bachelor’s degree before she did the certificate course in teaching secondary school students. She was able and energetic, when she joined. Her blemish less skin got scarred with pimples and got tanned in the tropical heat. By the time she struck thirty, she gained weight and lost her looks. I have seen her beauty fade right in front of my eyes. I was concerned for her marriage. How would she get married at this age in this society where all she has lost is considered important and all that she has accomplished is considered nothing?

Gita on the other hand was relatively young. She hailed from a large town. She had greater exposure. She was clear about being a school teacher. So she did her training appropriately without any ‘wastage’ of time, like doing a graduation. She was beautiful and carried herself well. She had a big family to back her. I wondered who that lucky one would be, the one who would marry her.

*********************************************************************************

Let us take a break. Do you think Sita and Gita ever got married? Take a guess and then read further.

*********************************************************************************

Yes. They did. Sita got married to a man who worked in a NGO in a tribal area. It is very far from here. It is even farther from residence of her parents and also her in-laws. He earned lesser than how much she earned here. I was concerned as she had to resign her Government job to go there.

On the other hand Gita got married in the town that she grew up in. Her in-laws and husband worked for the Government. They were rich. They could live a decent life from the money derived from their assets, even if they did not hold jobs. Her in-laws liked her so much that they did not take any dowry. (Sadly, it is a rare gesture in India.) Gita too resigned from the Government services. I was glad she could rest and enjoy life.

*********************************************************************************

Let us take a break again. How do you think these ladies fared in their marriages? Do take a moment off and think which would have been more difficult, which would have been happier, which would have brought happiness to their families?

*********************************************************************************

I would not guess if you have got it right or wrong. Let me tell you what happened. Sita left her Government job and gave up her stable salary, but she continued to do what she does best- teach. She started a small school in the tribal area where she was based. It is such a backward area, that even the Government did not have a school in a radius of 20 km around it. I am still shocked after I heard that tribal people are sending their children to study instead of using them for hunting, gathering and at their best- farming! Her husband’s development work took a quantum leap as she made in-roads into that community with education. Her parents and in-laws are proud of her as much as her husband. They may be short of material wealth but they are rich in their being. She is doing what principals like me can only dream of, even though we have a team and Government resources.

Gita resigned and rested at her new home. We teachers are as born as we are made. She taught children of her husband’s siblings and cousins, who lived in the locality. They were rich spoilt brats. Her methods were not appreciated by her relatives. She got fed up. In our school, even if a teacher beat a student, the parents always trusted our judgement. They aligned themselves to our terms of discipline in the best interest of the child. Gita lost that privilege. After all, there is a difference between teaching a rich kid and a poor kid.

Her husband loved her too much. He was very possessive of her. I am troubled to call it any other, so I fool myself calling this love. She could not visit her parents’ home without his permission, though it was just a couple of streets away. Going there alone would be such brazen behaviour that it would never be tolerated. After all, restrictions were for her safety. Her beauty conspired against her.

She had to restrict herself to household chores. She was never good at that. Her mother had pampered her by not letting her do them. While working in our school Gita escaped household chores. Her cousin Sita did the household work, while Gita attended to her personal grooming more diligently. What Gita treasured became the enemy of her life and what she avoided became her partner to escape a meaningless existence.

*********************************************************************************

I do not know what you had guessed. Let me tell you that my guess was wrong. My calculation was terribly wrong. I thought Gita was living a happy life and Sita was suffering. It is true that Sita has difficulties and Gita has comforts but that is far from reality. I wonder how I could be so wrong.

The patterns which make us anticipate outcomes may be right but these may fool us utterly at times. I also wonder if the patterns that we use are useful, if we could be wrong in both directions in both qualitative and quantitative terms. Hmmm… I would not doubt the usefulness of a pattern. Sita and Gita’s life indicates that there are more important issues than beauty and bank balance in determining soundness of a marriage and happiness in general.

Posted in education, fiction, indian society, love, philosophy, women's issues | Tagged: , , , , , , , | 14 Comments »

The Woman in Your Life

Posted by Dheeraj Kattula on January 11, 2010

Dr Dheeraj MD (Makes Dishes)

A very good friend of mine forwarded me an email titled “The Woman in Your Life”, which goes like this:-  (I have deleted all the beautiful photographs that the email had.)

To all the guys who read this…..please read fully and understand………….. 

To all the girls who read this……….. An excellent forward……please read fully….. and forward to the boys you know……….

This is a beautiful article:
The woman in your life…very well expressed…

Tomorrow you may get a working woman, but you should marry her with these facts as well.

Here is a girl, who is as much educated as you are;  who is earning almost as much as you do;

One, who has dreams and aspirations just as you have because she is as human as you are;

One, who has never entered the kitchen in her life just like you or your sister haven’t, as she was busy in studies and competing in a system that gives no special concession to girls for their culinary achievements

One, who has lived and loved her parents and brothers and sisters, almost as much as you do for 20-25 years of her life;

One, who has bravely agreed to leave behind all that, her home, people who love her, to adopt your home, your family, your ways and even your family name…

One, who is somehow expected to be a master-chef from day one, while you sleep oblivious to her predicament in her new circumstances, environment and that kitchen

One, who is expected to make the tea, first thing in the morning and cook food at the end of the day, even if she is as tired as you are, maybe more, and yet never ever expected to complain; to be a servant, a cook, a mother,
a wife, even if she doesn’t want to; and is learning just like you are as to what you want from her; and is clumsy and sloppy at times and knows that you won’t like it if she is too demanding, or if she learns faster than you;

One, who has her own set of friends, and that includes boys and even men at her workplace too, those, who she knows from school days and yet is willing to put all that on the back-burners to avoid your irrational jealousy, unnecessary competition and your inherent insecurities;

Yes, she can drink and dance just as well as you can, but won’t, simply because you won’t like it, even though you say otherwise

One, who can be late from work once in a while when deadlines, just like yours, are to be met;

One, who is doing her level best and wants to make this most important, relationship in her entire life a grand success, if you just help her some and trust her;

One, who just wants one thing from you, as you are the only one she knows in your entire house – your unstinted support, your sensitivities and most importantly – your understanding, or love, if you may call it.

But not many guys understand this……

Please appreciate “HER”

I liked the stuff.In fact I felt if this was the ideal that people are looking for, then maybe I am one of the most eligible batchelors around 🙂 I have added my take on each of the points made.

Tomorrow you may get a working woman, but you should marry her with these facts as well.Here is a girl, who is as much educated as you are;  who is earning almost as much as you do;

Of course I might marry an equally educated girl, who earns as much.(Preferably more.) 🙂 What should be the problem if all the money anyway comes to the home kitty?

One, who has dreams and aspirations just as you have because she is as human as you are;

Of course, she should dream (preferably of me 🙂 ) and have aspirations (to balance work and life).

One, who has never entered the kitchen in her life just like you or your sister haven’t, as she was busy in studies and competing in a system that gives no special concession to girls for their culinary achievements.

Thank God my sister and I did well in the kitchen, just as we did in studies. Problem is nowadays people are not giving weightage to culinary achievements in marriage market!

One, who has lived and loved her parents and brothers and sisters, almost as much as you do for 20-25 years of her life; One, who has bravely agreed to leave behind all that, her home, people who love her, to adopt your home, your family, your ways and even your family name…

She could maintain her relationships with all her brothers, sisters, cousins and parents just as I am sure to maintain mine. Only that it would be great if she could incorporate my circle into hers.I would try my best to incorporate hers into mine.I can only hope she does not come from a family which she was glad to leave! Of course she is welcome start a family with me. She and I would be the family. Together we would relate with others as individuals and families. She is welcome to continue to keep her family name also. She is expected to just add mine like Aishwarya Rai Bacchan.

One, who is somehow expected to be a master-chef from day one, while you sleep oblivious to her predicament in her new circumstances, environment and that kitchen.

I could give my spouse free tutorials in cooking till she overtakes me in all the culinary skills. I would profusely appreciate when she becomes better than me.If you don’t believe that I could cook look at the pic in this post.(Don’t I look like the master chef 🙂 )

One, who is expected to make the tea, first thing in the morning and cook food at the end of the day, even if she is as tired as you are, maybe more, and yet never ever expected to complain;

She better make the tea and coffee and not complain. That is something I would expect :-/ She should understand that I am dependent on Caffeine. She should help me in the withdrawal phase. If she does not, then she would see the symptoms of withdrawal i.e. irritability, anger outbursts etc. Of course, I would make these if she were tired. I can very well understand that if I did’nt then I might have to see signs of her tiredness i.e. irritability, anger outbursts and throwing things!

to be a servant, a cook, a mother, a wife, even if she doesn’t want to;

We could conseider, employing a servant (depending on our finanaces). She cannot stop being a woman if she wanted to. She would stay a mother and a wife whatever be her choice. Do I have a choice to not be a dad and a hubby in a marriage with children?

and is learning just like you are as to what you want from her;

I hope that learning is continuous as we have Continuing Medical Education (CME).This could be called Continuing Marital Education. 

and is clumsy and sloppy at times and knows that you won’t like it if she is too demanding, or if she learns faster than you;

If she is clumsy and sloppy, she is welcome to my gang. If she demands anything, she will get it.(Anything = Nothing). I know demanding would die out without reinforcement. Learnt it in college.It is called behavioral therapy. If she learns faster than me.I ll be proud of her and would transfer some of my assignments to her and tell her to teach me. I am a better auditory learner. In that bargain, she might win some rewards for helping me 🙂

One, who has her own set of friends, and that includes boys and even men at her workplace too, those, who she knows from school days and yet is willing to put all that on the back-burners to avoid your irrational jealousy, unnecessary competition and your inherent insecurities;

Oh Please spare me of that.Let her have all those friends as I would have mine. I hope because of her jealousy I might not have to delete my ancient friends recently found on orkut and facebook. If possible, her friends could be our family friends. If not, they would remain hers. Why should I be jealous of her friends? They may be better looking, better earning, more successful etc. So,what? I am a happy man. I would not trade my happiness for money, success or looks. That is why I prefer to eat than to excercise, learn rather than earn, be with people rather than papers. Cool.

Yes, she can drink and dance just as well as you can, but won’t, simply because you won’t like it, even though you say otherwise

If she drank, you think she could become my wife? :-/ If she dances, then that will keep her in shape 🙂 I would appreciate that.I might join her and get back in shape!

One, who can be late from work once in a while when deadlines, just like yours, are to be met;

No problem.I could enjoy an extra hour of solitude or time with my kids. I could surprise her by cooking a new recipe 🙂

One, who is doing her level best and wants to make this most important, relationship in her entire life a grand success, if you just help her some and trust her;

Of course I would. The same applies to me too .Is it not?

One, who just wants one thing from you, as you are the only one she knows in your entire house – your unstinted support, your sensitivities and most importantly – your understanding, or love, if you may call it.

I would not only love her, I would also pity her. She would have to bear with me much more than I might bear with her ! 🙂 ( This is secret.Shhh…)

But not many guys understand this…

Do you still think so? !

Please appreciate “HER”

She would get lots of this. This is a lot cheaper than buying gifts 🙂

Now, what is your take ?

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