The Miracle of Love

The Miracle of Love

- By Robin Panicker

I had always imagined myself falling in love with someone, and the concept of an arranged marriage seemed like an unpleasant proposition. Why in the world should I marry someone without knowing her in depth? And how much can one get to know from a twenty minute Pennu Kaanal / Cherukkan Kaanal (Girl-seeing / Boy-seeing). The primary discussions then would be “What is your name” and “What are your likes / dislikes?” Having seen enough face-masks in real life, I had learned not to judge a person by words, but by actions. So arranged marriages were just not the thing for me and I had made up my mind that i wouldn’t be a prey to my parent’s wishes! I had made it clear that if I were to marry, then I would definitely choose my better half myself. This argument had caused enough disruption in my lively home. Since the day my mom’s eyes fell upon the valentine card sent by an American pen-friend in her late twenties, my parents were ever apprehensive that I would elope away with an elderly blonde. So I was occasionally reminded that I was not the boss at home!

After college, when I got a job with Infy, I knew that the dormant cells in the brains of my relatives back in Kerala would soon start cooking up something for sure. But of course, the blooming IT was to be blamed equally as it was well known to create hype in the matrimonial classifieds. I have read many postings in newspapers which read “BOY, 25/180, Software Engineer, 20,000 per month, now onsite - (UK)” and “BOY, Project Leader with MNC, handsome salary. Convent educated” and then there were some for the fairer sexes too “GIRL, 22/155 very fair, father government-service, mother-teacher”, and “Fair and adorable girl. Working as Nurse in USA. Looking for H1B holder teetotaler boys.” It was surprising how three lines could determine your destiny! (I will tell you later how three lines actually changed my destiny.) But why in the world would your “Would be” be decided based on your per month income, or for that matter the occupation of the parents? Sadly, this is the way many people get married and unfortunately most of the people I knew were happily arranged! Love still continued to be a taboo and I hadn’t heard of a single love marriage in my family. In fact I had never ever heard my dad say “I Love you” to my mom, although they loved each other a lot. Being a royal descendent of this type of species, the future definitely seemed dark enough for me and I could sadly foresee myself making the biggest mistake of my life. “No!!!! Robyn! Wake up!!!” I would pinch myself out of this nightmare and become more determined to find my way out.

This was way back in 2003, when I was hardly 22. I always wished to get married at an early age, because they say that as you grow older, your attitude become so mature that you tend to be less flexible and compatible with others. Compassion, care and concern seem to fade into the dark and the inflated self-ego would always remain an obstacle. And now here I was - Independent and earning and dying to fall in love. But then you can’t actually fall in love overnight, can you? So I was kind of sure that I had a couple of years more before I get to choose my bride. And until I stumble upon Miss Perfect, I decided to be committed on the things that I had always wished to do – the hobbies that I had always adored. Who knows, maybe after tying the knot, I would never get the chance again.

With the type of person that I am, music, games and literature were included in my favorite to-do-lists, since a long time. I already owned a guitar but I wasn’t a professional player. I imagined myself strumming the “Summer of 69” in front of a mega crowd. I could see guys and gals roaring and cheering “Robyn! Robyn!” And I could see pretty girls rushing to the stage screaming for my autograph! Wow! That’s a packet full of motivation pills! I oiled my old guitar and went to the nearest music school and joined up for a course in Guitar. Unfortunately the class was dominated by at least a score of little teeny weenie students. Initially it was all fun until the inspiration was alive and kicking. Gradually it began to degrade and I was falling back on pace. On most days, my hectic work schedule would allow me to reach there some 20 minutes before the class ends. The instructor would then blast at me for the remaining twenty minutes in front of the kids and I would feel like a total failure. Dejected, ashamed and disappointed after repeated occurrence of such shabby treatment, I would pity myself and go back home and promise myself to be on time the next day. But history has got an awful habit of repeating events and the next class would just prove the same. Finally I decided to learn guitar on my own. In my agony and pain, I snapped rudely at the instructor for the first and last time and made him realize that I have had enough of his discourse and I marched out of the music school - in front of those tiny little kids. They seemed to admire my courage. I could hear claps and cheerful whispers followed by a bellowing “Silence Class! Silence!” from their master! And I knew that the kids had got a new role model. Alas! That was a stinking contribution from my side to the coming young generation! Later, I did learn to play “Summer of 69”. (Though I can manage to get the notes out in glued pieces only!)

So now with one hobby struck out of my life, I proceeded to the next one. I loved playing basket ball with the one exception that I didn’t know the rules of the game. For me, basketball meant putting the ball in the basket. Very simple, isn’t it? But here, at the grand basket ball court, I see a dozen humongous monsters chasing, what it seemed to me a distinct version of a professional basketball. I took a look at my skinny anatomy and tried to figure out my options of wining it out there. And I could clearly see a 0 % success, apart from a few broken bones. I waited for some time but these people hadn’t finished gnashing their teeth. It seemed that they had a very bad day at work and now they were leashing it out on the poor game. On an average, every minute, I found at least two guys hanging from the basket pole. I pitied the poor basket and made my move. I convinced myself that it was not the game for me!

So now what could I do? I was losing out on my best hobbies at an alarming rate and life was suddenly getting strange, void and funny. It was then that I realized that I hadn’t yet expressed my freedom to write! It was one hobby that needed no team work or physical effort. Building up unconditional love for this last hope, I made up my mind to write! So after reaching home, I borrowed a notebook and a pen from my roommate and I sat comfortably on the sofa in the traditional philosopher pose and tried to exploit my vocabulary. It took me a few days and a few notepads to actually get those choked up words to flow out smoothly.

From then, each day, I wrote something or the other. One day, when I lost a few pages from my notepad, I realized that I ought to be a good responsible software engineer and learn to take regular back ups. Blogs were not so common in those days, and I happened to chance upon the Personal Pages. Until then I had never ventured into that arena because I frankly thought they largely belonged to lazy people who never had any better work to do! I was wrong! Going through some of the pages, I realized that it was kinda fun and interesting. The creative worm in me started lashing and now I was restless. I worked and read and learned a lot on and finally hosted my web page. Whoopee- I was so excited that I started showing it off to all my friends.

Well, that was how my personal pages were created! When I scribbled out my first HTML page, I never realized what this new hobby would gift me in return. I used to work on it alone after office hours and had most of my weekends dedicated solely for this purpose. It saw me radically change from a team player to a site builder. Ultimately, after a huge effort of cuts and pastes and drags and drops, my pages took a decent and disciplined shape. I started getting feedback mails from the readers once in a while and it became a pattern for me to reply back to them. I had nearly spent one year with the company then. Something was soon about to change in my life.

One lovely winter morning, I remember, it was a Thursday when I opened my outlook I saw only one new mail. I proceeded and read this lonely mail, the subject of which read “feedback abt ur page.” Oh, so it was from a fan! That was a good way of starting a morning. When I opened the mail, it read

”It is superb.

I went through all the pages.

It's really nice.”

These three simple lines were followed by a name and signature. With a smile on my face, I maintained my design pattern and replied back immediately with a thanks. Never in the back of my mind would I have guessed what this mail would be spawning.

Before long we became good friends and I came to know more about her. I realized that we had a lot in common. There were more meetings and freaking outs in between me and her. Weekends now seemed wonderful, with long bike drives and visits to serene unseen places. Soon our acquaintance blossomed into a very close and precious friendship I had almost forgotten my resolutions and commitments. But nevertheless I had started to enjoy a better life. When you are in good company, it always reflects on your face!

Days passed. It had been months after we both got to know each other. It was almost the end of May. When I was young, May symbolized termination of school and it was a time to rejoice. Sadly, after getting a job, there were hardly any vacations! Weekends were our only mini-vacation and they used to disappear in a wink! By now, I had started adoring my friend. One such fine evening, when we were on a trip to Mysore we had visited the St Philomena’s church. There was a grand marriage going on inside and the bride was in the best of her attire. The groom however looked sad, little wonder why! I suddenly remembered my own ambitions and dreams! Standing near the exit of the huge church gates and looking directly into my friend’s eyes I blabbered “Will you marry me?” I had no idea why and how did I say that. It was like a hunch and a quite unexpected one too. All these days when we were together, I never knew whether I liked her or whether I loved her. All I knew was that I could understand her. But somehow it was a secret that I wasn’t ready to reveal to anyone. But inadvertently I blurted it out before her. She looked shocked, lost but calm. In an arduous attempt to recover an irreparable blot, in a snow-white friendship that was seemingly about to blow, I started preparing for an apology. But before I could speak a word, she took my palm in her soft hands and looking deeply into my eyes said “If you will love me forever, I will marry you.” Everything was so rapid that I lost track of what was happening. My heart was thumping and my head was spinning, and the world had stopped for a moment. I had never heard of such an indecent proposal. And I had never heard of such a decent espousal.

And then my dear friends, it was sheer magic! We had profoundly fallen in love with each other. It was the strangest and craziest feeling I had ever had. The thick distinguishing line between friendship and love had been crossed and the demarcation was clearly fading. That day, Lady Luck and Lady Love had smiled compassionately on both of us. On the journey back to Bangalore she slept in my arms.

*~*~*~*~*~*~

Phew! This is the story that I had wanted to write ever since marriage. – Well, yes, after almost ten months of courtship, we got married. So my dreams did come true! How I managed to fight the traditions and orthodox culture of my society, relatives and parents (in decreasing order) is a different story in itself. If I were to describe in detail the reaction of those aghast faces of friends and foes during my marriage ceremony, it would require many more pages, or perhaps chapters! Relatives still believe that I am the first scapegrace to be born in our family. But fortunately, my parents know it for sure that this was the best decision I could ever have made in my life!

By the way, after our marriage, my wife (or my ex-girlfriend) told me a little secret. She said that between me and her, it was she who had said the three magical words first.
When I asked her for an explanation, she asked me, “Do you remember my first mail to you?”


I told, “Yeah I do!”
She said, “It was written right there.”
My reaction was, “What??? There were just three lines, and none of it read I Love you.”
“Ha Ha.” she replied.


“Well, Line number 1: It is superb that meant I am superb”
“Line number 2: I went through all the pages that meant I Love them”
“And finally line number 3: it’s really nice that meant you are really nice”


She smiled and said, “So you never read between the lines, do you?” and blinked her eyes.

Astonished, I smile back, imagining how three words incorporated in three lines changed my life mysteriously! Well, that’s the miracle of love!