PERFECTLY IMPERFECT

“No! No! No! And a big No!” Rithu threw both palms into the air, her head shaking left and right in stubborn defiance. Her father, however, stood unmoved—arms crossed, his expression calm but unreadable. He wasn’t the kind of man to be swayed by a few dramatic gestures. “Dear,” Mr. Krishna Kumar began, his tone stretched with both warmth and firm authority. But Rithu interrupted, her voice laced with desperation. “Dad, I’m sorry. Really sorry. If you want me to jump off a mountain, I’ll do it. But marriage? Dad, I can’t. I just can’t.” The word marriage landed like a weight in her chest every time it was spoken. She didn’t hate the idea. She simply wasn’t ready. Not yet. Not now. Maybe someday. But now felt too soon—like a movie playing before its time. Krishna Kumar sighed. “Dear, I don’t want you jumping off mountains or wells. But as your father, I have dreams too. You’re the eldest, Rithu. It's your responsibility to set the path. You’re already twenty-six. It’s the right age. You have a younger brother and sister waiting their turn.” He spoke gently, with a voice full of hope—hope that she would agree, eventually. Yet, beneath the softness, Rithu could detect the emotional pressure he was applying. But Rithu was smarter than that. With a quick smirk and a mischievous tilt of her head, she said, “Dad! Emotional blackmail doesn’t work on me. I’m a lawyer. I’ve handled clients who tried every trick in the book. You're no match for my courtroom training.” She continued, fiery and full of sarcasm. “And seriously? I’m just 26, not some antique piece in a museum. Why do people act like I’m past expiry if I’m unmarried after 25? What’s their problem?” She turned toward her siblings with a sly grin, her voice light but her words loaded. “Anyway, two more options standing right here,” she gestured toward her brother and sister. “Feel free to arrange their marriages. No objections from my side.” Just as she grabbed her law coat and made her way to the door, her mother Prabha appeared out of nowhere—broomstick in hand, face stormy with fury. Rithu froze, her smile shifting into a nervous grin. “Mom! It’s time! I’m already late for court!” Prabha’s silence was more deafening than a scream. Her expression? Deadly. She threw the broomstick to the floor with a loud thud and crossed her arms across her chest, fire smoldering in her eyes. “Tell me the truth. Why are you refusing marriage?” she demanded. Rithu opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. What could she say? How could she explain the war she was fighting inside? “Mom, I think she’s in love with someone,” her brother Aaditya chimed in from the background, grinning like he’d won a courtroom argument himself. Rithu’s eyes nearly popped out. What the hell?! “When did I ever say that!?” she snapped, turning to her mother with frantic eyes. “Mom! I swear, I’m not in love with anyone!” Her mother raised an eyebrow. The silence stretched. “Or maybe,” Varnika, her sister, teased from behind, “she’s planning to run away before the engagement!” Rithu groaned, slapping her forehead with the back of her hand. “Mom, please! No… it’s not like that!” She could feel the pressure rising like steam in a pressure cooker. Everyone cornered her, ganged up, pushed, poked, prodded. Her mother glared. “Then what is it, Rithu?” She turned to her father, eyes pleading. “Dad, look at the time! I have a court session today. And now, even my career’s at stake if I don’t leave!” Krishna Kumar chuckled softly, shaking his head with exaggerated sympathy. “I’m sorry, dear. But this time, I won’t save you. The only thing I want from you is a ‘yes’ for marriage. Until then, no court, no coat, no car. Work is important, but for a parent? Nothing compares to seeing their daughter married and secure.” Rithu stared at him, utterly betrayed. Her shoulders sagged, her fight slowly leaking out of her. She sank into the couch, defeated. “Dad,” she began again, summoning her last thread of strength. “I’m an advocate. As per Article 19 of the Indian Constitution, I have the right to choose my profession. And under Article 21, I have the right to personal liberty…” Aaditya cut in with a mocking laugh, “Oh come on, save your Constitution for the courtroom. Here, we’re just asking—yes or no?” Rithu shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. In court, she was a force to reckon with. But in this house? She was just Rithu—the eldest daughter, the responsible one, the burden-bearer. Grinding her teeth, she whispered, “I need time.” Only she knew how much she hated that word—marriage. She had dreams, expectations, hopes. And she’d carefully kept love at bay through all her college years just so she could chase those dreams. Now they wanted to trade her dreams for bangles and sarees? But then again… she was the eldest. She had duties, too. Her father, satisfied for the moment, nodded gently. “That’s fair. I trust you’ll make the right decision.” He walked away. Her mother didn’t say a word—just followed him, her silence heavier than any scolding. Aaditya and Varnika, however, suddenly burst into laughter. --- Arranged Marriage. A strange, tangled tradition of trusting strangers. One yes, and your whole life takes a sharp turn. A few quiet nods, and your parents find the man. The engagement gets fixed. The wedding date follows. A new name. A new home. A whole new version of you begins. But is this really how arranged marriage starts? In theory—yes. In reality? Never. Boys are allowed to have dreams, ambitions, and time. They're given the space to become something before they're asked to become someone’s husband. Then why is it so hard to offer the same to girls? That’s today’s logic. Unfair. And deeply flawed.