He was everything my parents had warned me against! He was everything I would have asked my friends to stay away from. He changed jobs every two months. His temper and mood changed with the weather.
He could never keep his eyes away from any good looking woman on the street, even when I was with him, His friends were the street goons, the ones who made comments on everyone who walked by, who gave the thelewallahs a hard time. The kind who could find pleasure in teasing children. The kind who oggled at every woman.
I believed he was not like them, even if they were his best friends. I did not pay heed to all that was adviced against him. I was in love with him. He used to take me out on his motorbike riding it dangerously. He made me feel special. He had no one else in his life, no family that was known, no siblings. I was everything to him, or so he told me.
Fifteen years later, here we are, sitting across each other at the dining room of our two bedroom flat as our children squabble away. He talks to them patiently, trying to be the peacemaker.
The bike has long been sold. He has had the same job for the all of our married years. He is the father of my two little girls, whom he adores. His street friends have moved away from the locality, some into stable lives, others into anonymity.
I have it all made. So it seems, Did my love change him? The ambiguity of it all strikes me. Here I am, the daughter of proud parents, living a life envied by some, and approved by all. Here I am, sitting in front of the man I fell in love with. Here I am sitting in front of the man, who is nothing like the man I fell in love with.