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Yet you will never be good enough for me, even though his parents treat me like an outsider, a performer of domestic tasks, nothing more than a bedroom companion for their adult son.

My life, and their’s, would remain incomplete until they procured for me an Indian husband.

They had to act now, before I grew too fond of my independence, before I began to test the boundaries of my Indian womanhood, set so painstakingly for me since childhood, . You can understand a daughter’s reluctance to inflict grief upon her parents by her choices.

My parents say that your type cannot be trusted, that if, one day, we no longer see eye to eye, you will divorce me and leave me to live your life apart. If our personalities are not compatible, I will be forever locked in the security and safety of the loveless marriage, and endless years of apathy, hatred and depression.

Unlike you, he will never make me suffer the indignity of living as a divorced woman, with the freedom to live independently, travel the world or seek the love of another man. Your face broke into a smile of delight when I whispered the news to you in tremulous tones.

But you see, I am Indian, and you are not, and although the colour of my skin makes not the slightest difference to you, for me it is a different story.

I rang home, longing for my parents to share my hard earned happiness but although they congratulated me heartily, I discerned a hint of something else in their voices.For you see, although I had done all they had asked for and succeeded in the path they had chosen for me, it didn’t matter anymore. What use was a high flying career or a large salary – if they could not find a suitable Indian boy for me to marry and settle down with?

While my peers learnt about puberty and growing up, I sat alone in the library with my mother’s sharp words that there was no need for me to be learning about such things rang in my head.Their kind was to be treated with suspicion, with their depraved concepts of single parenthood, divorce, boyfriends, pubs, gay rights and female bus drivers.We could live in their country, eat their food, ride their trains and occupy positions in their companies, but we remained apart from them, lest we be tempted by their sinful lifestyle and carefree ways. I did not go for sleepovers with my friends, as their parents, however friendly, could not be trusted.As I grew up, I could no longer wear shorts or dresses on hot summer days.I was taught to cover up and not draw attention to myself.For Indian men have such high standards, unlike men of your race, and he is doing me such a 'favor' by agreeing to marry me. Your parents have welcomed me into their homes and hearts with open arms, simply because you chose to love me.