When can I get off the ‘adulthood’ roller coaster?

In the thrilling circus of life, there is nothing quite like the drama of a 22-year-old attempting to balance a full-time job at an institution, a part-time gig as an English instructor, and pursuing an undergraduate thesis while dealing with a constant 'wedding buzz.' 

I was told that growing up would be fun and my life would become more exciting. I would be free to make my own decisions and travel to places without worrying about returning home before Maghrib's Adhan. 

However, the more I age, the more I realise that growing up comes with its own challenges and life seems to be playing an elaborate prank on me.

It is quite a rollercoaster ride. One day, my father is adamant that I should go abroad and pursue my Master's degree, as it would help me build a brighter future. 

The next day, he is all ears to the collective wisdom of my extended family members, his colleagues, and the gentlemen he kneels beside during Friday prayers, who are entirely fixated on my future life, particularly the prospect of getting married. 

I cannot really blame my father entirely for his shifting perspective. Although he has supported my decisions, he cannot escape the constant chatter of his friends and family, all sharing opinions about my age. My chances of getting married apparently come with a sell-by date set at 25.  

I have been repeatedly told that in Bangladesh, if a girl does not get married before the age of 25, her chances of finding a suitable husband shrink faster than a sweater washed with hot water. 

This is largely due to the prevalent practice of arranged marriages where men tend to seek wives much younger than them, usually looking for an age gap of 8-10 years, a trend that will always be beyond my understanding. 

It no longer comes as a surprise to see female members of our extended family transform into self-proclaimed experts in the field of gynaecology as soon as the subject of marriage after 25 arises. 

It is as if they have all earned an overnight PhD on the topic of childbirth and the potential challenges of conceiving a child after the age of 25. 

Above all, what really strikes me is how everyone seems more invested in my future endeavours and health than my own parents or even myself.

Much like a roller coaster, arranged marriage is an intriguing journey that follows a predefined path. It carries individuals through twists, turns, steep slopes, and other elements designed to produce a thrilling experience. 

At the initial stages of this unique ride, the potential suitors go through your photos. It is a process similar to online shopping, but instead of gadgets, they evaluate your height, skin colour, blood type, education, and family background. 

It is as if they are selecting a product from a store with specific specifications. You must meet certain criteria – be tall, slim, and good-looking, possess fair skin, have long hair, come from a family with a respectable income, and be an A-grade student to qualify for the role of a good housewife who stays at home and looks after the family. 

I must clarify that I hold no disrespect towards housewives and the valuable role that they play. However, the criteria for an ideal housewife often strike me as rather absurd.

So here I am, riding through this bumpy railroad track, aiming for a successful career. At the same time, the constant buzzing about marriage proposals and different opinions from different individuals invades my mental space. 

Is this what growing up is supposed to feel like? 

It is like constantly battling with society while trying to chase your dreams. For most Bangali girls, it seems like an ongoing war of choices, priorities, and a relentless tug-of-war between tradition and ambition. 

So, as I try to find my footing in this chaos, here is to all the Bangali girls who are boldly waging this epic battle – keep fighting, keep chasing those dreams, and do not let anyone turn your CGPA into a prison sentence! 

Sanzida Alam Lisa is a Research Assistant at the Centre for Sustainable Development, a research centre at University of Liberal Arts Bangladesh.

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions and views of The Business Standard.