Asha gazed out of the window of her modest apartment, the evening skyline of Mumbai glowing in the distance. Her reflection stared back at her, a young woman in her late twenties, caught in a storm of expectations. The vibrant city seemed to pulsate with life, yet she felt enveloped in a fog, the weight of her family’s dreams pressing heavily on her shoulders.
Her phone buzzed incessantly on the table beside her, a message from her mother flashing insistently. It was a reminder of the upcoming family dinner, which was not just a simple meal, but an orchestrated event for her to meet a prospective suitor. “A perfect match,” her mother had called him, using those two words that were becoming the bane of Asha’s existence.
Growing up in a traditional Indian family, Asha had always been the obedient daughter, ticking all the right boxes—excellent grades, a degree in engineering, a stable job. Yet, as she neared thirty, the ticking of another clock became deafening, one that marked the years left to fulfill the traditional roles expected of her: wife, daughter-in-law, mother.
The pressure was not just from her parents, but from the cultural cocoon that enveloped them all. She remembered the last family gathering, where her aunt had whispered, “It’s time you settled down, dear. Your parents aren’t getting any younger.” Each comment felt like a thread tightening around her, pulling her into a tapestry she wasn’t sure she wanted to be a part of.
That evening, Asha walked into her parents’ home with a familiar sense of dread. The smell of spices, a comforting aroma of her childhood, enveloped her as she entered. Her mother, as usual, was bustling in the kitchen, preparing an elaborate meal. “You’re here!” her mother exclaimed, a warm smile on her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Rohan will be joining us soon.”
Asha nodded, trying to mask her disinterest. Rohan was the latest in a series of ‘perfect matches’ she was paraded before, each meeting becoming more grating than the last. He arrived promptly, a handsome young doctor with a charming smile and polished manners, the model son-in-law.
Dinner was a meticulous dance of questions and answers, with Asha’s parents steering the conversation towards marriage and future plans. Her father, with his authoritative voice, laid out the importance of family and tradition, weaving a narrative where Asha’s happiness was contingent on following the path laid out for her.
Asha listened, her silence misconstrued as agreement. Inside, her heart pounded with frustration, her mind screaming against the constraints wrapping around her. She felt like a spectator in her own life, watching events unfold with a sense of growing detachment.
As the evening approached its end, Rohan, seemingly oblivious to her inner turmoil, smiled at her across the table. “I believe we could make a great team, Asha,” he said earnestly.
Something snapped within her at that moment, the carefully maintained facade cracking. “A team?” she repeated, her voice rising. “Is that what this is about? Putting two people together like pieces of a puzzle because it seems right?”
Her parents looked at her, stunned by the outburst. “Asha,” her mother said gently, a hint of reprimand in her tone.
“No, Ma,” Asha interrupted, her voice firm. “I’m tired of being a piece in a puzzle. I need to figure out my own picture.” Her heart raced as she spoke, the words tumbling out in a rush of pent-up emotion.
There was silence, the air thick with tension. Her father’s face hardened, a mixture of disappointment and anger. “This is your duty, Asha,” he started, his voice stern.
“My duty?” she repeated, her voice steadying despite the tumult inside her. “Is my happiness not worth considering? Is my duty only to fit into a role you’ve envisioned for me?”
Her father opened his mouth to respond, but she stood, cutting him off. “I need to live my own life, make my own choices, even if it means disappointing you. I hope you can understand that.”
The words hung in the air, a declaration of independence that left them all reeling. Asha looked at her parents, their faces a mixture of shock and hurt, but also a flicker of dawning understanding.
Rohan, sensing the deeply personal moment, quietly excused himself, offering a polite farewell.
Asha’s mother reached for her, tears glistening in her eyes. “We only want what’s best for you, Asha.”
“I know, Ma,” Asha replied softly, her own eyes welling. “But I need to find out what that means for me.”
As she left her parents’ house, the cool night air filled her lungs with a sense of newfound freedom. The road ahead was uncertain, and the journey would not be easy, but for the first time, she felt like the path she was on belonged to her.
Returning to her apartment, she stood by the window again, the city lights twinkling like stars. Asha breathed deeply, a mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through her. She was at the beginning of her own story, one where she decided the chapters.
In that moment of solitude and self-belief, Asha realized that while the weight of expectations might never fully lift, she had the strength to carry it in her own way.