Within five minutes of meeting us, almost everyone ends up telling me how lucky I am. My first response is to tell them the truth. That there was no luck. It was an elaborate plan, the great heist, a master strategy, a bountiful hunt. They scoff.
They, then, make me sit down. Hold my hands. Look inside my eyes. And, tell me that I should feel extremely lucky. It is not us. It is never us for finding each other. The luck is entirely mine.
It makes me think. Almost all of them say it after they come to her know of her cooking prowess, of her writing prowess, of her painting prowess, of her singing prowess. Etc. etc. So am I lucky because I get a ringside view to a great talent? That should not be. History is replete with stories of companions to greatly talented people who were extremely unhappy.
Some say it after tasting her food. They can’t believe what they get to have once in a while is being cooked for me every single day. But lucky because you found a woman who cooks great food? It is a sadly outdated compliment. Though a perfectly relevant one. But it will be a sad marriage if the only thing great about it is on the plate. Tarla Dalal’s husband loved the food but they also loved each other. No?
What I do not like about these compliments to my fortunes is that it introduces a hierarchy into our relationship. It can be naïve but never without intent. I have never looked at a happy couple and then try to detach them to weigh who has got the better deal. Because a happy relationship is like water. Even though there are two parts oxygen, hydrogen wont exactly be thanking oxygen for getting a plus one.
I know often it is completely innocent. But so are most biases. We are prone to weighing every relationship in terms of who brings what. That is how marriages are fixed, no? You bring money, she brings beauty. You bring a paunch, she brings two giant front teeth. You bring a green card, she brings the sale deed of her life. Measured and traded. So, to the trained eye, in our relationship, one brings so much. And, I bring a bag of jokes? That’s it? I must be lucky. Come on. I might be a great jester whose jokes landed.
Point being we never stop looking for the lucky ones. Thank god, he only drank. Thank god, she only filed a dowry case. Who is lucky is an endless game we play. In bad relations, no one or at best, one can be lucky. In good ones, it is always both. You see, one has to bring the bat and the other the ball. No game until that happens. But unlike in cricket, no one wins or loses. As they say, the game is all that matters. Only luck you need is to keep the rains away.
