A car expert is someone who has driven a lot of cars, repaired them, renovated them, and reviewed them. That’s why we trust his opinion before investing in a car that will last maybe a decade — fifteen years at best if you’re lucky or drive like a grandma.
Now imagine this: You’re planning to get married — a union that’s expected to last your entire life. Through job losses, child-rearing, hormonal mood swings, in-law politics, financial meltdowns, medical emergencies, and Netflix password disputes.
So naturally, whom do you seek guidance from?
In India, the answer is simple: A celibate. Someone who has never been in a relationship. Never had to share a bathroom. Never experienced the joy and horror of co-parenting. Never fought over the thermostat. Never been ghosted, dumped, or told, “I’m fine,” when she clearly isn’t.
Welcome to the great Indian irony.
When it comes to technical things like cars, computers, or real estate, we trust people with practical experience. But when it comes to something as intimate, complicated, and emotionally demanding as marriage — we turn to people who have renounced the world and all its attachments.
It’s as if we’ve been conditioned to believe that abstinence breeds wisdom. That someone who has notexperienced marriage is somehow more qualified to talk about it. Because they’re “unbiased.” Or “detached.” Or just wearing saffron.
This is not to say celibates don’t have insight. Many of them read ancient texts, meditate for hours, and give moving lectures on love, duty, and sacrifice. But would you take swimming lessons from someone who’s never touched water?
Marriage is not an academic subject. It is not poetry. It’s not even a philosophical ideal. It’s mostly just two imperfect people learning to live together without killing each other. And there’s no scripture or seminar that can fully prepare you for that.
We Indians love outsourcing our life decisions — career, marriage, children, even haircut styles — to people in robes, on podiums, or behind microphones. But maybe it’s time we start listening to people who have actually lived what we’re going through.
You want to understand marriage? Talk to the woman who’s been married for 25 years and still hasn’t figured out her husband’s mood swings. Talk to the man who stayed up every night for three years rocking a colicky baby while his wife worked two jobs. Talk to the couple who separated and still meet for coffee once a month to laugh about the fights that nearly destroyed them.
Marriage, like driving, can’t be taught by someone who’s only read the manual.
So the next time you hear a monk talking about marital bliss, nod respectfully — and then go ask your mechanic.
He might actually give you better advice.