As a simple man with a complex taste, I carry the agenda, 'Leave and do not disturb if you want to live' but as nature will have it, there will always be someone or the other who decides to check if its ok to poke sleeping dragon and well, end up cursing me loud or carrying heavy burns on his head and mind with my horrible theories.
So there I was sitting peacefully destroying the terrorist camp, again on Dust II (the counter strike edition, you mortals) when he came out of nowhere, now I should tell you, that the person who popped on me was the man of the moral brigade with a capital M. I sometimes wondered if he is the reincarnation of the conscience I abandoned long back or just a eccentric fool who was hit on the head when he was a child. Doesn't actually make any difference.
'I did not like her,' he said.
'The girl my parents chose for me,' he said.
'Congratulations,' I said, sarcastically, now you will stay virgin for another eternity.
'The girl was nice,' oh dear, he is still talking, 'But she wants to work after marriage...'
His cribbing was not going to stop for a while and the disturbance was spoiling my reputation on the CS underworld, so I politely messaged people AFK (Away from keyword) and turned my attention to the other terrorist in my room.
'What is wrong with it?' I asked, 'If she wants a career, who are you to stop her?'
'Why, I am her husband no?' he replied, 'I do deserve the right to tell her what to do and what not to do...'
'I think you missed a century dude,' I corrected, 'Slave trade was legal in the last millennium, not now...'
'Its not slave trade,' he replied, 'She is my wife, she shares equal rights over house hold.'
'So you will sweep the house with her?' I asked.
'No... that she has to do, it is her duty as a wife.'
'So a girl you are getting will sweep your house, wash your clothes, cook food for you and is not allowed to do any other occupation...' I summarized, 'Pretty much sounds like a slave trade.'
'No its not that,' he tried to reason, 'She gets my salary, she takes care of me and my family, just like my mother did for so many years.'
'So you are happy that you mom acted like a slave to your family for so many years and now you are replacing her with another one?'
'The slave traders atleast sold the slave to other people, here she has to serve you for eternity. No growth opportunity too...'
'You are eccentric you know that?' he asked.
'So when are you meeting her?' I asked.
'My parents have met her grandmother, after they give approval, I am going to meet her parents...' he smiled.
'... So let me get this straight. You are going to spend your life with one person and you are going to meet everyone else in her family except that person?'
'Ofcourse not,' he said, 'I will meet her after I meet her parents.'
'Nice,' I beamed, finally something making sense, 'Meet her at CCD, its very nice joint for meeting...'
'No no no,' he screamed as if he was just sentence to murder, 'We do not have sanskar to meet girls outside, we will be meeting in her house in presence of the elders of the house.'
'Is that the reason why you did not talk to my girlfriend the other day?' I asked.
'Yes,' he replied, 'We carry our cultural tirades very well...'
'Thank God, I thought you had selective mutism and was going to admit you in mental hospital for psychiatric treatment...'
'You are crazy you know,' he replied, 'Indians have their sanskar...'
'... and also have social anxiety which then comes up during your work or your interaction with foreign clients. But the false sense of pride about a flawed culture prevents you from correcting yourself...' I simply replied, matter of fact.
'Don't tell me your argument, I know my culture...'
'What culture, tell me one story in Hinduism where God, princes, king had arrange marriage...' I asked simply.
'You know there this...' he paused, there was a big moment of awkward silence.
'So you see mister, arrange marriage is not part of your culture and marriage is not part of your life too, because you are a sadist pig, who is going to ruin someones life with your eccentric ideas of culture. Stop this slave trade in the name of culture and go open your eyes to the real world.'
My game was over long back, with the terrorist beating my team with a big score, but somewhere I knew I had won a war that day.
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