In India, a girl hitting puberty isn't just a biological milestone; it’s apparently a public broadcast signal for every random aunty and distant stranger to start scouting. You could be standing at a bus stop, minding your own business and dreaming of a PhD or a solo trip to Prague, when a lady you’ve never seen before eyes your height and asks your mother if you can "at least boil an egg." Suddenly, your entire existence—the books you’ve read, the late nights you’ve pulled for exams, the fire in your soul—is reduced to how well you’ll fit into a stranger's living room.
It is a bizarre, hurting humor where your identity is treated like a software update that only activates once you’re tethered to a "hubby." People talk about your future husband like he’s the sun and you’re just a moon waiting for his light to tell you when to glow. For a girl with big dreams, these "casual" proposals aren’t compliments; they are anchors. Every time a neighbor mentions a "settled boy in Canada or from Neighbourhood," it feels like a tiny door closing on the life you actually wanted to build for yourself. It leaves you with a literal headache—a throbbing mix of rage and anxiety—because you realize that while you are running toward your dreams, society is trying to trip you with a wedding garland.
There is a deep, quiet sadness in knowing that no matter how high you fly, the world below is just waiting for you to land in a kitchen. You become afraid to succeed too much or look too "homely" or even stand too tall, because everything is viewed through the lens of marketability. It’s exhausting to be a protagonist in your own head but merely a "prospective bride" in everyone else’s. We aren't humans in progress; we are just trophies in waiting, a puppet which is being controlled by everyone and the joke is always on us.
It is a bizarre, hurting humor where your identity is treated like a software update that only activates once you’re tethered to a "hubby." People talk about your future husband like he’s the sun and you’re just a moon waiting for his light to tell you when to glow. For a girl with big dreams, these "casual" proposals aren’t compliments; they are anchors. Every time a neighbor mentions a "settled boy in Canada or from Neighbourhood," it feels like a tiny door closing on the life you actually wanted to build for yourself. It leaves you with a literal headache—a throbbing mix of rage and anxiety—because you realize that while you are running toward your dreams, society is trying to trip you with a wedding garland.
There is a deep, quiet sadness in knowing that no matter how high you fly, the world below is just waiting for you to land in a kitchen. You become afraid to succeed too much or look too "homely" or even stand too tall, because everything is viewed through the lens of marketability. It’s exhausting to be a protagonist in your own head but merely a "prospective bride" in everyone else’s. We aren't humans in progress; we are just trophies in waiting, a puppet which is being controlled by everyone and the joke is always on us.
