Of disclosing ‘disability’ before marriage

There was a time when my mother and sister were searching a bride for me. I had insisted to have my visual ‘disability’ (as others call it) be totally disclosed. People initially showed interest and willingness in my proposal, but the moment my Retinitis Pigmentosa-caused blindness was disclosed, either they did not carry the issue further or politely tendered their refusals.

My parents and sister used to feel sorry for this, and they found it difficult to tell me that I again am being refused for the fear that I will get disheartened. But I had not committed a guilty or shameful act due to which I was facing rejections, so I saw no reason to get disheartened. Indeed, the fact that people were interested in me until my blindness was disclosed was a positive point for me. I have not caused my blindness; it is caused due to reasons beyond my control, then why to feel sorry over it? Yet, I must confess that sometimes I used to feel dejected, but there was light at the end of the tunnel.

We had a very old friendship with a family. They used to frequent us often, and once all of a sudden my mother kept my marriage proposal to them. They gladly agreed, the mother of my supposed wife merrily telling us “What is the use of asking? My daughter is yours, we know your son, he is our child, everything is settled.”

Both the families came in the mood to have a great celebration. Marriage celebrations or their preparations seem to be so divine that we feel as if everyone, even our bloodthirsty enemies, are loving and blessing us in their hearts. The noteworthy thing was that we had visited each other so much that it was clear that they know about my blindness. Moreover, my sister too has RP, and they had helped her often. Yet my sight problem was impressed upon them. But they just did not listen to us and even told my sister not to talk about that issue again as if it was hurting them.

Marriage is a big thing. Everything was clear but I felt some uneasiness and requested to talk with the girl because I did not want to take chances.

We went to meet them. It turned out that they were not taking my sight problem seriously because they were thinking that I have enough sight to do my work on my own. For instance, they knew that I work on computers and move around the city and out of the city independently (at the time these talks were taking place I was out of station). But the astonishing thing was that they could not realise that in the course of time I have become blind.

I told her mother point-blank: “I can only see light. I am looking towards your face because of your voice. I use screen reading technology to work on computers. And I use a cane when I walk alone. I cannot see.”

She gave a pause. That pause clearly expressed that she was broken. (Later, I came to know from my mother that her hands were shaking at that time.) Then I talked with the girl who had already known about the new condition I was in. She sounded perplexed and disinclined.

Their reaction, though, was normal. Anyone would have reacted in a similar manner after knowing about my blindness. My marriage date was to be fixed, but now they needed time and told us that they were unaware that I had lost my sight. I thought that the game was over.

But I was wrong.

Days passed. One good evening, the mother of the girl-who-could-be-my-wife came to our home and started showering praises on me. She talked to me in a tearfully sympathetic tone, though I had not needed it. Apologising from her expressions and tone, she told us that her daughter was not willing to marry me. I was thankful because if this condition had disclosed after marriage, I would have been in great trouble.

At my home, I gave a small party to my friends, and called it ‘In the name of my cancelled marriage’! It was meant to truly celebrate life; it was not one of those Bollywood parties in which bottles are uncorked, there is false enjoyment all around, and the main character ineptly tries to forget his grief in the make-believe. Thankfully, we really enjoyed our party, and since my room is quite separated, we made a lot of noise until the early hours of the morning.

Days passed. Wham! The mother of   the girl-who-could-be-my-wife told us that her daughter wants to marry me! She was deeply moved by that honesty stuff. Earlier too, that delicate creature had cried and prayed for me a lot, on hearing that I have become blind. Her family members, too, had prayed and cried, and now the girl was willing to marry me. It was a U-turn!

Can you even guess what happened after that? Celebrations, excitement, religious and cultural rituals... no, nothing of the sort.

I was not very impressed with prayers and tears. (Though I always beg for God’s mercy and crave for prayers of His creations.) I had earlier told my sister that they have the right to reject me, but acceptance after rejection will not affect me.

I remained a bachelor.

I started to train myself to lead an unmarried life. I found many people (including two blind men) who were very sufficiently leading a lonesome life and asked myself: “If they can do it, why cannot I?”

Living alone is difficult, but not impossible. Loneliness humbles you, brings forth your good qualities and teaches you how to be happy in need. It is a lovely teacher which urges you to be independent of all except God.

I was not pessimistic to adopt such an approach; I only tried to be practical. Had I been pessimistic, I would have told my family members not to search a bride for me because “I want to live alone.” Besides, I have a small rule of life, which is to try to be happy in an unnatural or adverse situation, but never to willingly prolong or embrace it. True, bearing pain patiently brings forth our good qualities, but this does not mean that we don’t take steps to eliminate it.

I lived and enjoyed the present without caring about the future. I pursued my hobbies (reading, writing and travelling) and tried not to miss a chance to improve myself.

Days passed. The final shot readers! One fine evening I was introduced to a girl by my mother and sister to whom I told each and everything about my sight. It is close to midnight now, and guess what....that girl is with me because thankfully she is my wife!

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Shadab Husain works as a receptionist at Chhatrapati Shahuji Maharaj Medical University, Lucknow. He has an MA in English literature, and has pursued a diploma in computer applications as well as a personality development course. He also writes a blog on personality development and improving English. To visit his blog, click PersonalityAndEnglish.blogspot.com.