The actor’s wife.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Her weight gain was not a lot, women of her age did gain that sort of weight, especially after two pregnancies. She looked at the Newspaper. There was an article on her husband. As usual. And his new wife. And how he still ‘maintained relations’ with the children of his first marriage. Her children. Their children.

Things were obviously going to fall apart. He was from the film industry. She was not. It was naive to think that he wouldn’t fall for one of the women from the sets. But what happened surprised her more than shocking her. He had fallen for the director, a hard-working young woman, and not the scintillating actress, his co-star.

They had married when he hadn’t even worked in his first film. People advised her not to. What if he ended up being just a junior artist all his life? But she believed him. She believed in him. And he succeeded. The more his profession took off, the more their marriage failed. She should have known. She never understood how the Ā other star-wives managed it. She didn’t want to. She wasn’t one of them.

She had given the marriage all she could. Perhaps too much. But she was thankful he ended it when he was in love with someone else, although, it still was extra-marital, and she could never forgive him for it. The kids had grown up. She had hoped that they would not join the film industry. But it looked to her that her son was inclining that way. Well, it was his choice.

The only mistake she thought she had ever made was let the marriage and her husband define her identity so largely. Now she had found herself, and did what she want to. She turned the page of the paper. Something caught her attention –

A young actress, who had done a brief role in one of her husband’s films had committed suicide, and abuse by a boyfriend, another actor’s son, was said to be involved. No doubt her secretary would put a call through to her soon, from the deceased relatives. But she could not wait. She picked up the phone.

“Hello? This call is from the Director of Protection of Women in the Entertainment Industry. I was wondering if this is a good time to talk about your daughter, the deceased Miss Khan? It appears to me that the case needs probing.”

Being A Hopeful Romantic

If you were to hear the people around you, you would feel that hopeless is the only romantic you can be.

I, however, disagree.

Because, the hopeless, typical vision is cliched, and has been made so by commercialization. For example, if all you wanted was a birthday card from your boyfriend, why does it make you happier if he got it from Archies, rather than some other lesser known place? Or made it himself? Shouldn’t the message matter the most?

This is the kind of image of love that has been put forward by corporations for their own benefit. It’s so well engrained that girls tend to feel “if he spends more, he loves you more”.

Such kind of plastic expectations will always remain unfulfilled because there is no end to such expectations. Thus comes the “hopeless” into the picture.

Besides, I also feel that if the person cared enough for me, they would come up with original ways of expressing their feelings. And, if they care, but aren’t creative enough, I’ll get bored with them anyway. (I value creativity highly)

When I tell people that I do not read love stories (unless there is some other element like adventure) and do not like being gifted flowers, they assume I’m some hardened woman, with no feelings and an utter hatred for men and relationships.

The assumption is unfounded of course. I realize that no matter how versatile I be, life eventually sucks alone. I value good company. I have been blessed with like-minded friends. And here, I’lll flatter myself by saying I am a fairly good friend to them too. šŸ˜€

I also know the importance of a special person in life, a partner for the good and bad. But, I’d call myself a hopeful romantic. I will love that person, and give them enough space to coexist with me. I don’t expect us to celebrateĀ anniversariesĀ as if they were milestones on a road, but that we be happy with each other, and can do special stuff for each other, without limiting it to couple of days in a year.

I won’t expect superhuman things from that person. What is his fault, that he cares for me?

Everyone can make mistakes, and I will try my best to hear him out and not jump to conclusions. In this way, I feel, we can enjoy our time together.

Innumerable poems and paragraphs of prose have been written to cover the beauty of human relationships, and we still haven’t done enough. Therefore, there is no denying that human bonds are special. And for that sake, let us all not let money measure that for us. Let us all be hopeful romantics! šŸ˜€ Enough mushiness for now! Until the next post!