His Family Wouldn’t Accept Me Because…

We take pride in the fact that India is a land of diverse cultures and castes, but this very diversity becomes a bane for us when it comes to marriage, right? All our life, we’ve lived boasting about the unity in diversity with respect to the colorful cultures of our country. I don’t mean to demean any culture or society here, I’m still a very proud Indian. I’m just one among those million helpless lovers across the world that weren’t able to marry the love of their life. Why? Well, that’s when caste and cultural differences decided to play spoilsport.

Let me tell you my story, so you’d agree with me when I speak of how caste differences actually prevail even today. Back then, during my post-graduation days, I was in a relationship for almost three years. We definitely were serious about each other (at least that’s what I thought) but misunderstandings overtook our love for each other. And we decided to call it quits mutually (although, I was heartbroken). From then on, for the next two years, I’ve been on a relationship detox. Stayed away from guys, because, honestly, I was saturated by the feelings of how adorable moments turned into word-wrestling championships. I was fed up of being in a broken relationship.

It All Started With Instagram

How many of y’all are avid Instagram users? It’s the rage these days, right? It’s not like just any common social site. It’s given umpteen number of people the opportunities of a lifetime— professionally and personally. For example, me. Coming to the ordeal of my story: I installed Instagram on my phone because I’d heard something about it being the best platform for visual influencers. As I was good at photography and wanted a platform to showcase it, I chose Instagram. I began to post my captures from the streets, my travel journeys, and even some experimental portrait shots. I’d cracked the knack of using the hashtags right and soon, my work began to gather attention among the best of photographers here in India.

I was invited to join the Photographers Club of India and it was a proud moment for me (I jumped like a kid in my office, I very well remember). The club was an elite group of photographers from across the country. We were connected virtually through our Instagram accounts and exchanged our work with each other. The club used to organize quarterly photo walks and outings where everyone got to meet each other in person and learn photography even more.

My First Ever Photo Walk With The Club

It was on 15 November 2016, the club had planned to meet at the Pushkar Mela (a world-famous camel fair) that happens in Rajasthan, every winter. I was super excited to meet and greet everyone there. Even more thrilled and dreaming about how I’d get to capture some beautiful dessert silhouettes. The day had finally arrived. The punctual head that I am, I decided to go overboard and be there at the meeting point in the desert at 5:00 am whereas the time we decided to meet was 6:30 am. As I stood alone shivering in the cold, trying to install my tripod stand in order to capture a few shots of the camels entering the dessert fair with their owners, I heard someone call my name. A handsome young man was walking towards me and for the first time in two years, I had a sudden adrenaline rush of those hormones (the love ones). I tried to stay calm. He helped me with my tripod and said, “Hi Apoorva, I’m Rahul, a member of the club just like you. I’ve been following your work and quite honestly in awe with it.”

Wait, what? The compliment made me blush. Rahul and I hung out together all throughout the meet. We figured we were at least 60 percent alike (alarm bells or love bells?) I got to learn a lot from all the photographers during my time in Pushkar and meeting Rahul was like a cherry on the cake.

On the last day of the meet, Rahul took me out on a street photography tour (it gave me butterflies in the stomach because it was just the two of us). As we walked capturing the streets, he held my hand and gave me a tight hug. I was shocked and overwhelmed at the same time. He looked into my eyes and I could see that he had strong feelings for me. At that moment, I knew we were in love. We spent the rest of the time walking hand in hand and with our cameras on the other hand. He didn’t utter those three words— I Love You. I wondered why.

A Few Months Later…

We were inseparable after Pushkar. He lived in Mysore which was around 145 km from my place, Bengaluru. We spoke on the phone whenever we could, and kept tagging each other on Instagram posts and so on. Every weekend we met on the Bengaluru-Mysore highway and spent a quiet, romantic time together hand in hand and sometimes arms in arms (palm face). What upset me most was the fact that it had been close to 8 months now and he still din utter those three magical words.

When I Decided To Confront

Finally, I decided to ask him. We were at our favorite café eating our favorite wedges alongside the usual frappe cold coffee. I asked him, “Why won’t you say it? What’s stopping you?” I saw his smile vanish in a second, a pale worried expression surfaced. He said, “I can’t.” I was furious but kept my calm and asked him to explain. He said the worst ever excuse I could have imagined—“We aren’t of the same caste.” I lost it! I screamed, “Which era are you living in, Rahul? We love each other and we are compatible. We both know we can handle all the ups and downs life will throw at us. That’s what matters.”

He agreed. But he told me that he had spoken to his mother about me. The very day when we left Pushkar, he had phoned his mom and told her about me. He told her that he was in love. And the very first question he was asked—“Is she from our caste?”

And since that day, he has only been trying to convince his parents about me. I fell silent. A part of me wanted to storm out, a part of me wanted to caress him. It wasn’t his fault or mine. We belonged to a society as such, where caste system existed, cultural differences mattered. However, my parents, who had an inter-caste love marriage, would be very cool if I spoke about Rahul to them. Alas, this love wasn’t in my fate!

We spent the rest of our time at the café in silence. He held my hand so tight that it made me feel he would never let me go. We still met for another few months like the usual. I saw the pain he was going through trying to convince his family for me. He had become depressed. He’d never smile on seeing me, but I could still see the love in his eyes.

One fine day, I told him, “Let go of me, Rahul. You are helpless and I understand.” And I walked away. He didn’t stop me either. We both knew this was our end. A story that ended because of a trivial thing that society sees an integral part of life— caste.

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