The Room

I have mild claustrophobia so having wide open spaces is important for me. I’m talking multiple large windows, enough cross ventilation and plenty of sunlight. Of course, this contradicts with the lifestyle of the traditional mallu muslim household.

‘Close your curtains, why do you want your neighbours to see you?’

‘What claustrophobia? It is all in the head!’

It irked my parents that I never paid any heed to them. But I didn’t care. I loved my room. It was the right size, met all my requirements and had this massive window pane that faced East, overlooking a green plot. Every morning I would be greeted by the sun’s early rays and that nicest of the breeze would come in every evening. During the rains, the right amount of rain would drop in. Enough to not drench the mattress.

This room was a sanctuary, my protector from all the evils in the world. It was my safe space after a long day at school. It is where I took refuge when my parents were in a mood. The room was one of my closest friends, it had all my favourite things and knew where I kept all the secrets. My other friends liked it too.

But my parents had their concerns. You see, the room was big enough for now but what will happen after my hubby moves in? We don’t have enough space to put his clothes as well. Besides, who will even marry me when the room is this small? They decided we should break the wall and expand the room. “Let’s break the wall with the windows. That should give them some privacy too”.

And so they did. I kicked up a fuss, even in front of the contractor. I begged, pleaded, cried but to no effect. The next thing I knew, my wonderful windows were reduced to the size of a bathroom window. The room was bigger, hotter and way gloomier. Let’s not talk about the suffocation!

From that point on, I started taking concrete actions to move out of the house. Through a series of hard work, manipulation and painful conversations with my parents, I was able to move to Bangalore to pursue my post grad. That was always my dream but the renovation gave me all the push I needed to assert myself. They were reluctant, but it was only for 2 years so they agreed.

After which, much to everyone’s disappointment, I landed a job in the same city.

Much to everyone’s disappointment, I continued at that job for 2. years

Much to everyone’s relief, I later decided I will not continue with this job anymore and came back to my hometown.

Much to everyone’s bigger disappointment, I landed a newer, more hectic job in the same city!

Do you see the pattern here? I did not realize it at that time, but I really did not want to revisit that room. Even in the few days that I would visit, I would not step into that part of the house at all. ‘It must be so dirty, why clean it simply?’ This went on for 5 years.

And then the pandemic struck! Before I knew it, I was back at home and back in my unwelcome room. I decided I’ll put in a genuine effort to adjust. But try as I might, I couldn’t. I was working from home so a large chunk of my time was spent in the room. I tried my best to make it comfortable and pretty, but I simply couldn’t concentrate. I felt myself suffocating, unable to focus. My productivity dropped to an all time low and I sure wasn’t imagining that coz even my boss picked up on it.

I could not sleep either. I kept waking up in the middle of the night. I would step out to the terrace at 2 am/ 3 am, just to absorb as much oxygen as I could before going back to sleep. And every time I woke up, I would see the extended part of the room and suddenly filled with all the negative emotions one should not wake up with. It was a trigger, and I felt anger, frustration, confusion, all for a room and for a prospective groom who is yet to walk into our life.

To quote Dumbledore “yes it was all in my head. But why on earth would it not be real?”

After a genuine attempt from my side, I slowly started making changes. I would offer my 5 namaz in the hall. I started using my brothers bathroom instead of mine. Most importantly, I shifted my workspace to a different corner of the house. There is no table or chair so I sit on the floor and work. The wall is my only back support but I didnt mind. You see, my work had picked up! I started making progress, my mood was never better and I was (almost) back to my usual self. Eventually I did the ultimate and kicked my brother out of his room and moved in there. I sleep better too.

This bothered the family. These changes of mine were disrupting their way of life apparently. I have now been declared a fusspot! I needed to learn to adjust better.

Like me sitting on the floor in the laundry area for 12 hours straight without back support for the sake of my work isn’t adjustment!

Yes, I know this is insane first world problem, maybe I am a fusspot, but hear me out. There is a pattern here that I want to highlight. The argument I used against the window is quite similiar to what I have now regarding the question of my marriage.

“This is not what I want. I am happy the way things are.”

“ My current arrangement satisfies my every need”

“The validation from society is not my priority”

“Why must I compromise for something I don’t fully agree with?”

“I might not like the new changes, but will be forced to adjust for the damage would already be done”

And the responses are not too different either.

“Yes, you did not ask for it. But we are your parents, we know what is best for you”

“The needs of a girl is different. You need a bigger room with more storage and more privacy”/”You are a girl, you need a husband”

“But you room is so much bigger now, what don’t you like about it?” / “you will have a husband to take care of you, what is the problem?”

“No one would marry you with a room like that”/ “you are essentially worthless otherwise. This is a necessity”

“We spent so much money on this. Do you want it to go to waste?

No matter what the context is, it doesn’t matter what I want. The fact that I am miserable here goes out the tiny window. The fact that I am unable to sleep, unable to work, unpleasant to be around, my mental health (which was already breaking apart) is in shambles is completely irrelevant. All that matters is that we have now reached the society’s definition of an idealism and the rest has to compromised. Because I am a girl. And I am to be traded off soon.

And the think about me is, I am that girl who always knows what she wants. I trust my instincts, and hardly ever has it not worked out for me. My parents decisions though has not always worked out for me, by their own admission. Yet, when it comes to my own life choices, I am supposed to trust them. Place my blind faith in them and follow as they say. They do know better, after all!

I’m curious. When does what i want matter? What is the minimum requirement that qualifies my values/opinions/concerns as legit? I’m not comfortable with the ‘compromise’ part either. At what point does my ‘have to compromise’ turn into ‘have compromised enough?’

Back then they used to say, “you are only 20. You don’t know what you are talking about. You will change your mind in a few years”.

Wrong.

Today they say “You are only 26. You don’t know what you are talking about. You will change your mind in a few years.”

Wrong again.