Through Sick and Sin?

My darling and me  Through Sick and Sin

My father was an extremely practical person with thought processes much too revolutionary for his time. Like everything else his views on the institution of marriage were also quite cynical. He was of the firm opinion that it was the most unnatural thing for two completely different people to live together for the rest of their lives in peace and harmony. He likened marriage to cogs in a wheel grinding together. For them to move in synchronisation it would take a a lot of wear and tear to eventually mesh together smoothly.

When I chose to marry a fighter pilot in the Indian Air Force he was not too happy. He was of the firm opinion that fighter pilots were womanisers who drank too much, had no money and eventually would die in a plane crash!

Just before the wedding he called me for a heart to heart and this is exactly what he said:-

" Darling, whatever happens, remember marriage is through sick and sin. Only the first twenty five years are difficult. If you can survive that it will be smooth sailing"!

The Hungarian language has no "th" sound in it and as he never lost his accent he would substitute the "th" inflection with "zuh" or "suh". What he was saying was marriage was through thick and thin but I always look back at the phrase he used as being so much more apt for the whole marriage game!

How It All Began

My husband of twenty eight years suddenly asked me why I did not create my own blog. I glared at him and declared that I had nothing to say to anyone any more.When I was young and enthusiastic and wanted to change the world with my radical thoughts no one seemed particularly interested and through the years I began to keep things to myself more and more.

Lying awake last night and seriously thinking about this whole blogging thing I wondered if it was worth giving it a try.I wondered if anyone would really be interested in the ramblings of a middle aged woman who did not travel or have a strong political opinion,who did not socialise much and had few friends and who had become a bit of a recluse.

Sure, I had an unconventional upbringing with a Hungarian father and a Muslim mother. My father was Victor Egan who had been married to Amrita Shergil (the controversial Indian artist) and we grew up in a village in the backwoods of Uttar Pradesh. Sure,I went through the traumas of teenage years more traumatically than most and survived. Sure, I married an amazing fighter pilot of the Indian Air Force and travelled the length and breadth of the country, but was an unconventional wife who smoked and drank long before it became socially acceptable. Sure, I raised a daughter in sometimes trying and lonely circumstances and think I did a hell of a good job on that one. Sure I wrote poetry, loved to read and was completely besotted by animals in every shape or form.

Actually, on second thoughts,maybe putting all of it down in writing would be quite exciting. Stories about my father and his experiences as the first "white" doctor in the 1940s were sometimes unbelievable and always fascinating. Travelling as an air force wife put me in some crazy situations as well and rearing a child "my way" might also be interesting. I have always guarded my poetry as being too personal but what the hell,,,,maybe someone out there would appreciate it.

So here goes....this is the first of what I hope will be many blogs.

And an apology to my darling husband for snarling at him when he suggested it.