Learn Curve for Girls

Suhani Dewra

Meera lived in a large joint family, with more than thirty people inhabiting the sprawling space. The house was always buzzing with activities. There was immediate family to talk to, there were cousins to hang out with around the house, and then there were cousin’s cousins who were always visiting somebody in the house. School added to her every day’s activities. Meera had a gang of girls who she also hung out with over the weekends, sometimes. There was not a dull moment in her life.

Some years later, Meera was going to graduate from college and was eager to join the workforce. Her discipline before graduation was economics.  

“Dad, there are some companies that are conducting interviews on the campus for job placement. I hope to crack at least one interview and land a good job?” Meera asked her dad.

“What form?! You aren’t going to work. I am planning to look for a good match for you to get married,” her dad retorted.

Meera didn’t get to have a professional life. She pined for it, all through while she was being prepared for finding a suitable man. Every few weeks, she was presented, in a saree, in front of the potential groom and his family. Some never returned after the first introduction. Some others took the first meeting forward, but the search for some man to accept Meera continued. Why were the men not agreeing to marry Meera? Because Meera was of dark complexion. Bluntly put, she was black in color.

One fine morning, there was yet another family that wanted to see Meera. This time around Meera’s family had a trick.

“Let’s apply a lot of make up on her to lighten her skin; not merely on her face but also elsewhere,” said an aunt.

The trick worked. The potential groom agreed to be her lifelong partner. Both the families rejoiced. Meera’s mum hugged her and cried tears of joy.

That night when Meera had her first conversation with her husband-to-be over the phone, the soon-to-be bride confessed that she had concealed her real complexion with heavy makeup. That was all that was needed for life to come back to square one for Meera. The man and his family withdrew the engagement. Unsure if she had a reason to celebrate for not being tied to a man of such shallow values or mourn the loss of a supposed future, Meera was now beginning to get tired of the game. Meanwhile, her friends had flourishing career. They earned their own money, flashed a debit card when they all hung out, and were happier as they were pursuing their passion.

As goes the saying nothing is constant in the world, Meera’s display of herself came to a cease. She got married to a man who worked as the General Manager at a sugar factory in a remote village. When Meera moved to her new house, she was startled.

“We don’t even get bread here!” exclaimed Meera in despair to her husband.

“It is a tiny village dear. Sugar factories are established in the remotest of areas as the conditions are favourable. But don’t you worry about the bread. I will get them shipped to you from the nearest town,” consoled the husband.

Life moved on and Meera coped with her everyday life. There were three servants in the large bungalow that the factory’s owner had gifted the General Manager. Every time Meera visited her hometown, she asked for money from the husband and he readily gave her all that she wanted. It was a life of privilege in some ways and yet Meera had never been so unhappy. Her days were long and uneventful. She had no friends for all her friends from town were busy with a full day job. There were some more households from the factory workforce around her bungalow.  But Meera couldn’t socialize with them as they were all in rank lower to her husband.

“Meera, be nice to them and offer help, but do not socialize with them. You are the GM’s wife. You are above them and should only hobnob with equals,” the husband had advised her.  

One spring, Meera enrolled into an online cookery course and learnt how to bake cakes. In due course of time, she mastered the art so well that she thought she could begin a cake baking school in her village.

“Oh no Meera, you can’t do this. What are people going to tell?! That the GM’s wife is selling cakes?! That’s going to sound beneath my dignity,” worried the husband.

Once again the obedient Meera gave in and gave up on what brought her joy.

Her husband was a caring man, however, he failed to gather Meera’s mind. While Meera slipped into loneliness. There was not a thing to do in the house or outside.

Soon after, Meera found another way out to kill her boredom and loneliness. She joined an online guitar class. Her guitar lessons became the joy of her life. She looked forward to each day. After a few months of regular training, Meera was now a decent guitar player. On most days, when her husband returned home after a long day at the sugar factory, she strummed some tunes for him. Her excitement continued for a few weeks and then she grew out of strumming the guitar for his only audience.

 “How about I teach strumming the guitar to some women around,” Meera proposed the idea to her husband.

“O no, Meera. These women wouldn’t appreciate such a fancy activity. Just keep it to yourself,” he advised.

The caring husband couldn’t fathom that Meera needed to have an individual life and eventful life, beyond managing the servants. After all she had lived the larger part of her life in a joint family of more than thirty people. Meera retraced her path to loneliness. This time around she wasn’t even going to try to have to a life otherwise.