Interesting read, published today so I thought why not to circulate. By Malavika Santhebennur Ramp Up 14 Feb 2014 A Valentine's lesson: someone who loves you for who you are is someone worth being with. Credit: pcatalin (iStockphoto) http://www.abc.net.au/rampup/articles/2014/02/14/3943912.htm With her family's cultural values, Malavika Santhebennur was happy for her parents to play match maker and help find her a husband. But she was disappointed to find that even with their help, sometimes prejudice against disability is no match for love.
Happy Valentine's Day! Also, happy Singles Appreciation Day! As I plough through my 20s, I see friends and family enter relationships, marriage, even parenthood. I'm 26 years old and was born in India. I am at what they call in my culture 'a marriageable age'. I want to get married, so being of marriageable age isn't a problem. That is not to say, however, that I'm sitting by the window waiting for my Prince Charming to sweep me off my feet. Being a full-time journalist at a financial publication, socialising, travelling, and belting out (bad) karaoke numbers every now and then gives me plenty to do. I also have mild cerebral palsy. 'Vanilla' might describe it. Yet the social impacts of this disability have not quite been vanilla. My mother faced a lot of difficulty delivering me and the doctor had to use forceps. My first cry was delayed due to lack of oxygen. Things were chugging along quite well until my parents noticed that I was missing the milestones I was supposed to have as a child. I could not sit on my own without support until I was one year old. I had not started walking even at one and a half. My parents started running around to various doctors, until one got it right. He said, "Now I want you to sit down. What I'm about to tell you will be hard to take." The doctor told my parents I had cerebral palsy. I would need an operation on both legs to stretch my tendons. I would need physiotherapy everyday for at least two years. I finally started walking at age three and a half. Today, I walk with a limp. And my hands and arms have tremors and spasms. My parents started looking for a husband for me at the beginning of 2011. They are playing match maker, rather than 'arranging' the marriage. It's my call at the end of the day. My parents signed me up to various online matrimonial websites. They have described me as a family person, educated and fun-loving. They have also mentioned that I have a limp. When people contact us to express interest, my parents tell them the full story. We have received various expressions of interest, but to date I've only met one guy. Just over two years ago, my dad sent me the profile and picture of a man in Bangalore. I liked his profile enough to want to meet him. My mum travelled to India to meet him first. Then I started talking to him over the phone and e-mail. I felt chemistry. I told him about my disability. He said he was okay with it and was looking forward to meet me. Looked promising. My parents and I flew to India to meet him in December 2011. He called me twice on the day we landed. I woke up on the day of our meeting with jetlag and butterflies in my stomach. I got dressed up and wore a sari. I chatted alone with him for an hour about our interests, goals, and what we wanted out of life. We then joined the parents in the lounge room. I asked his mother if she had any questions and concerns. I got silence. She smiled nervously and shook her head. When we didn't hear from them for a week, my mum rang the guy. He told Mum he was concerned I would be too much of a dependant. His mum had separated from her husband and the guy was her main support. He was scared that I'd be an additional dependant. I called and told him to visit me again so we could chat. While on the phone he told me that after we met, he could not eat, he could not work and he could not sleep. It was because he was panicking about marrying a girl with a disability. I wanted to allay his fears; convince him that, heavens no, I wouldn't be a burden. When he came over I told him to be honest about what was going through his mind. This roughly sums up what he said: "My mum and I are scared that you will be a dependant. I don't know if I can balance looking after you and my mum." "We are worried about what society will think if I married a girl with a disability." "You didn't tell us you have hand tremors". (I did.) "My mum's pushing me to find better girls." Instead of giving him the heave-ho right there, I propped up my case, explaining that I was a very independent, educated girl, who was capable of doing things on my own. I waited for his response. Eventually, he said no. I'm used to stares and comments from strangers. I often hear, "What's wrong?", "You're limping. Are you okay?", or "Do you need help?" When I visited a shopping centre in India a couple of years ago with my cousin, a guy walked up to her and asked "Sister, what's wrong with your friend's leg?" And once, a relative told my family about groom-hunting for her daughter. She told us about one man who came forward to offer marriage. She concluded the story with, "I could not let my daughter marry him. He had a limp!" After the guy in Bangalore's refusal, many people told me that it was just one rejection and that I should keep trying to meet other men. But for me, the reasons for that rejection cut deep. I don't mind my parents playing match maker for me. It's not the same as having an arranged marriage, which I am completely against. However, going through this selection exercise, I've felt like having a disability is like having a criminal record that I should keep hidden. Days before I was about to meet him, I was advised not to get nervous. Because when I get nervous, my tremors increase and that would put people off. I was basically told to look less disabled so as to not scare my potential husband away. But here's the thing. I don't want to seem 'less disabled'. My disability has shaped me to be who I am today. And it has taught me a hell of a lot about life. And one of the most important things I've learnt is that the guy who looks at my disability as a part of me and my body and loves me for it is the guy worth being with. Not the guy who will be with me despite my disability. The search continues. In the meantime, join me on this Valentine's Day in spreading the cause of singles appreciation. Malavika Santhebennur works as a journalist for a business-to-business financial publication at Cirrus Media in Chatswood. She writes sporadically for a community paper called Indian Link. Reading Bollywood gossip is her guilty pleasure. -- Avinash Shahi M.Phil Research Scholar Centre for The Study of Law and Governance Jawaharlal Nehru University New Delhi India Time to meet up again! 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