In Rediff's new series on modern marriages, young couples from across India discuss how they deal with differences of opinion, lifestyle preferences and personal choices.
Here, *Payal tells Divya Nair/Rediff how she coped with the unexpected challenges that followed her impulsive marriage to her best friend.
My husband Mehul* and I are childhood sweethearts. People close to us will tell you how we are less of a couple and more like friends who grew up together in the same neighbourhood. Which we did. We even went to the same school and college.
Growing up, we had different interests and passions. Mehul loved playing cricket with the boys. And I would attend art and dance classes. I was never into sports and Mehul had no interest in drawing or dance.
Despite this, I could discuss anything with him. Though we had never dated, everyone in our group thought that Mehul and I were meant for each other.
After school, Mehul would hang out with his friends; I had my own gang of girls.
Since we lived in the same area, we all knew each other very well. We exchanged notes and went to each other's homes for birthdays, Ganpati, Christmas, Eid, Diwali and special occasions. Our parents became friends too.
When I was in college, I dated a boy for two years. He turned out to be possessive and controlled what clothes I wore, who I spoke to.
When we broke up, Mehul was there to comfort me. He didn't judge or lecture me about it. He simply listened.
We were in the final year of college when Mehul lost his father to a heart attack. I still remember watching him perform the last rites. He didn't shed a tear or say a word. He stood there with folded hands till everyone left.
I was worried for him but didn't know how to comfort him.
The day after the funeral, he came home -- we stayed two blocks away. It was his father's birthday and he was carrying the shirt he and I had brought to surprise him. He asked if I could hug him. He held me and cried like a child, saying, "Now who will we give this to?"
It was the first time I had seen Mehul cry so much. He was devastated and I could feel his pain. His whole body was shaking as he held me tight. I knew how close he was to his father.
My parents comforted him too. My dad said, 'You can always come to me when you miss him.'
In a strange sort of way, I started seeing him as my family.
The next day, I wrote a long letter and proposed to him. He read it and we kissed each other for the first time.
Choosing Mehul was an emotional decision for me. I hadn't thought it through, which I feel was the worst impulsive decision of my life.
Mehul became a different person after his father passed away. He became very serious about his career and whenever he went through a bad patch, he would call me. Though he had other friends, I became his go-to person.
Initially, I felt special because I was able to help and support him when he needed me the most. But, over the years, I realised that I was the wrong person to guide him. Mehul was going through deep trauma. He could not accept that his father was no more and it started affecting our friendship.
Over the last 10 years, I have seen Mehul go from being extremely sweet to being completely inaccessible. He would switch off his phone and lock himself in his room for days.
It got worse after his mother got diagnosed with breast cancer. Mehul couldn't handle it.
During the lockdown, I spoke to my parents and told them we would like to get married. My parents thought it was a bad idea and they were probably right. But I wanted to help Mehul in whatever way I could. I had volunteered to become his saviour.
Much against my parents' will, we decided to get married so I could move in and take care of his mom.
Mehul was happy I made the choice. He promised my parents he would take good care of me. I was supportive of Mehul because he was dealing with so much of stress -- financial, professional and emotional.
A few months after our wedding, Mehul lost his job and I became his punching bag. I was looking after household and hospital expenses while he was sulking away. I realised he was taking me for granted. I told him we should separate. That triggered him even more. He said I was immature and irresponsible as always.
A common friend suggested we take professional help. We went to a marriage counsellor who suggested I move out for a couple of days. I was reluctant because I didn't want to leave his mother alone. We hired a caretaker but things didn't work out. Mehul continued blaming me for not being responsible.
His mother couldn't take all of this. She tried explaining to Mehul but he would snap back at her.
I would cry all night but I didn't have the courage to go to my parents' home.
In December 2025, Mehul's mom fell sick and passed away at the hospital. I watched as Mehul sit by her bedside and cry. But never once did he speak to me or comfort me.
When we returned home, he moved to his mom's bedroom.
I tried speaking to him but he said he wanted time.
I tried calling his friends home.
I tried to find new ways to get him to talk or meet a counsellor but he would always find some excuse to avoid my attempts.
Helpless, I went back to our marriage counsellor who advised me to stop trying so hard. She explained how the fact that I had always been supportive of Mehul had backfired on me. She told me instead to keep the communication lines open.
So I stopped talking about his mom and dad. Now our conversations are limited to food, work and the distribution of chores. I stopped hanging around him on weekends and joined a yoga class.
Mehul took up a new job in February that keeps him busy. Since March, he has started playing cricket on weekends.
We continue to sleep in separate bedrooms because I want to give him his space to heal and recover. And, like the counsellor suggested, this time, I am trying to protect my peace.
Mehul and I have known each other for 32 years. We grew up together. We've seen good and bad days and he is still my best friend. But, truth be told, that didn't make our marriage any easier. We had our share of struggles and low points.
When neither of us knew how to deal with each other, we went to a counsellor. Looking back, I think that was the best and the boldest decision of our lives. Though we were reluctant to follow her suggestions, eventually we have accepted the fact that we cannot fix everything ourselves.
I have realised that important decisions like marriage cannot be taken on impulse and emotions alone.
I don't regret falling in love because falling in love is easy. You cannot control that. But I hope everyone reading our story realises that marriage is a far bigger decision and it doesn't just involve two people.
You need to be patient, understanding, forgiving and willing to choose each other every single day, even when your heart says otherwise.
I would like to tell everyone: Think twice before you sign up for this adventure (marriage).
*Names changed to protect privacy.
Dear Reader, would you like to share your relationship challenges with us? How is your marriage different from your parents' marriage? What are the challenges that you are facing that they never did? And how do you deal with them? Do let us know if you would like us to keep your name anonymous.
We hope this series will help other readers navigate their relationships.
Write to us at getahead@rediff.co.in (subject: Modern relationships).
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