Tag: love

The Untold Weight of a Bride and Groom

by Shreyas Trivedi

Weddings are often seen as the happiest celebrations of life. They are filled with music, laughter, family gatherings, rituals, and traditions that bind two people together. On the outside, everything looks beautiful—the glowing bride, the confident groom, the decorated halls, and the cheerful guests.

But over the years, as I’ve watched and observed weddings closely, I’ve realized something deeper. Behind the glitter and joy, silent battles are being fought—by both the bride and the groom. Battles that most people don’t talk about, but ones that leave a lasting mark on their hearts.

The Groom’s Silent Burden

For a middle-class groom, marriage is not just about companionship or love—it is also about responsibility. And with responsibility comes pressure.

Most of the grooms I’ve seen carry financial worries as their biggest weight. The home loan EMI, car loan, or student loan doesn’t pause just because there’s a wedding. If anything, the wedding adds another mountain of expenses. Even while he smiles at the shop counter or bargains with the decorator, his mind is silently doing calculations:

  • How much will I have left after the wedding expenses?
  • Will I still be able to pay the EMIs on time?
  • How do I balance my parents’ medical bills with this new chapter of life?

Along with money comes career anxiety. For many men, their job feels like the foundation of everything—yet it’s also one of the most uncertain things today. I’ve seen grooms lose sleep over the thought: “What if I lose my job after marriage? What if I can’t give my wife the life she deserves?”

And then there’s the emotional burden of being the son. In many cases, parents are aging, dealing with health issues, or relying completely on their son for support. While he prepares for rituals, part of his heart is still worried about his father’s next check-up or his mother’s blood pressure. This quiet conflict—between wanting to celebrate his wedding and needing to care for his parents—is something that weighs heavily on him.

Yet, very few people ask the groom how he feels. His nervousness is rarely acknowledged because society has already written his script: He is strong. He is capable. He is sorted. His fears, his sleepless nights, and his anxieties remain invisible to most.

The Bride’s Silent Struggle

On the other side, the bride carries a very different kind of burden. While the groom worries about finances and responsibilities, the bride prepares for one of the biggest emotional shifts of her life.

She is expected to leave behind the comfort of her parents’ home—the place where she grew up, where her small joys and memories are rooted. She walks out of a world where she is someone’s daughter and steps into another where she becomes someone’s wife, daughter-in-law, and eventually, perhaps, a mother.

This transition, though beautiful, comes with silent fears:

  • Will I be accepted in my new family?
  • Will I be able to balance my career with household responsibilities?
  • Will I find the same comfort in a new home as I did in the one I’m leaving behind?

Even in today’s modern world, brides often face unspoken judgments—about how they dress, how they cook, how they manage relationships, or even how they balance work and family. For many, the anxiety of “fitting in” is as heavy as the jewelry they wear on their wedding day.

She too puts on a smile, dances with her friends, poses for photographs—but deep down, she is silently grieving the life she is about to leave behind, while nervously preparing for the life she is about to enter.

Two Different Journeys, One Shared Weight

When I look at weddings, I don’t just see the rituals and the glamour anymore. I see two individuals standing at the crossroads of life, each carrying invisible weights.

  • The groom shoulders the pressure of providing, protecting, and being responsible.
  • The bride shoulders the pressure of leaving, adapting, and being accepted.

Their struggles are different, yet equally heavy. Both of them walk into marriage with excitement, but also with fear—fear of the unknown, fear of expectations, fear of failing in roles that society has already assigned to them.

What I’ve Learned Over the Years

Watching these stories unfold has taught me something valuable: Marriage is not just a celebration—it’s a leap of courage.

It is courage for the groom, who learns to balance EMIs, family responsibilities, and new commitments without letting his fears show.
It is courage for the bride, who leaves behind her world and steps into a new one, hoping to be embraced with love and understanding.

But the most beautiful thing I’ve noticed is this—when both stand together, the weight becomes lighter. When the groom shares his financial worries and the bride shares her emotional fears, and they both decide to face it side by side, marriage becomes what it is meant to be: a partnership.

It’s not about one carrying more than the other. It’s about sharing the load, lifting each other on the tough days, and reminding each other that they don’t have to do it alone.

A Gentle Reminder

The next time you attend a wedding and see a glowing bride or a confident groom on stage, pause for a moment. Behind the laughter, the music, and the rituals, there are two human beings—nervous, hopeful, anxious, and brave—all at once.

They don’t just deserve blessings for a happy married life; they also deserve compassion, understanding, and patience as they step into this journey.

Because in the end, marriage is not about the weight one carries—it’s about the weight two people learn to carry together.

Let’s Celebrate Our Loved Ones While They’re Still With Us.

by Shreyas Trivedi

In every family, workplace, and group of friends, there’s always someone who silently carries the weight of others—offering help, support, and strength without expecting much in return. These are the people we often take for granted while they are alive. We remember how many times we asked them for help, but we rarely ask them how they are doing. We don’t inquire about their struggles, their dreams, or their pain. They keep everything bottled up, not because they don’t want to share, but because no one ever asks. We see their strength and assume they don’t need support. But strength doesn’t mean they’re not hurting. Silence doesn’t always mean peace. And smiles don’t always reflect happiness.

Then one day, they are gone. And suddenly, we find words we never shared with them. At their funeral, we hear people say things like, “He was such a kind soul,” or “She never said no to anyone.” We speak of their sacrifices, their goodness, their ability to always show up. But the truth is, these words come too late. The person who most deserved to hear them is no longer there to listen. Why do we do this? Why do we express love, gratitude, and admiration only after someone dies?

Just a few months ago, I lost one of my uncles. A few days ago, it was his birthday. In our family WhatsApp group, everyone was sending messages—“Happy birthday, we miss you,” “Gone too soon,” “You’ll always be in our hearts.” And I sat there quietly, remembering how we never wished him on his birthday when he was alive. I never called him just to say “Happy birthday” or “How are you?” I was always busy. There was always something more ‘urgent’ than a two-minute call. And now, that regret has carved a permanent space in my heart. That feeling—that I could have done something so small, so simple, yet so meaningful—will stay with me forever.

The world we live in moves fast. We’re busy chasing deadlines, goals, and daily tasks. And in the middle of it all, we forget to see people as they are—not just for what they do for us, but for who they are. We assume the strong don’t need support. We believe that silence means someone is fine. And we wait for special occasions—weddings, birthdays, funerals—to express emotions that should be shared every now and then.

As someone who believes deeply in family values, I feel this is where we need to pause and reflect. The real essence of family lies in presence—not just being physically around, but being emotionally available. Take a moment to ask your parents how their day was, not just how your day went. Sit with your grandparents, even if they don’t talk much. Ask your sibling if they’re truly okay—not just if work is going well. Thank that cousin or friend who always shows up, without expecting recognition.

Let’s change this culture of delayed appreciation. Let’s not wait to post emotional tributes after someone is gone. Let’s write those messages today. Let’s say, “I love you,” “I respect you,” or “You inspire me,” while they’re still here to hear it. Let’s give people the joy of being seen, valued, and understood—while they are still alive.

Kindness isn’t just about helping others. It’s about noticing them. It’s about making people feel they matter—not just for what they do, but for who they are. If you’re reading this today, maybe it’s time to make that phone call—not to ask for a favor, but just to say, “I see you. I appreciate you. Tell me your story.”

The Hard Truth About Family: When Standing Together Isn’t the Same as Being There

by Shreyas Trivedi

We grew up in India believing that family is everything. That no matter how tough life gets, family will be your safety net — always ready to catch you before you fall. That when the world questions you, your family will defend you. That in every major celebration or crisis, they will stand by your side — unshaken, unwavering.

And in many ways, they do.

Weddings, festivals, housewarmings, birthdays — you’ll never find yourself alone during these events. Relatives you haven’t seen in years will show up. Uncles will crack the same old jokes. Aunties will sit in circles and exchange stories. Cousins will rehearse a dance together. In-laws will smile and bless you like you’re one of their own. It all feels beautifully overwhelming — like one large emotional ecosystem moving in harmony.

But what happens when the music stops?

What happens when you don’t follow the expected script — when you choose something unconventional? When did you leave your corporate job to start your own business? When do you decide to pause everything and take care of your mental health? When you fail, fall, or simply take a path they don’t understand?

That’s when silence sets in.

Not always out of cruelty. Sometimes out of discomfort. Often out of fear. But mostly because we’ve mistaken being present at functions for being present in life.

Your uncles, who were front row at your engagement, now avoid asking how your startup is going. Your cousins who made Instagram reels with you at the wedding don’t check in when you disappear for a week. Your in-laws, who call you ‘beta,’ don’t ask why your eyes look tired in every family Zoom call. And even your parents — loving as they are — sometimes can’t understand why you’re not “normal” anymore.

Support becomes seasonal. Conditional. Social, not emotional.

We’re surrounded by people, yet feel utterly alone.

Because we’ve created a culture where the performance of the family is prioritized over the practice of care. Where being there means attending a ceremony, but not sitting down for a real, raw conversation. Where we confuse the number of people at a function with the number of people who actually ask, “How are you really doing?”

And in that gap — between what is shown and what is truly felt — lies a deep loneliness. A kind of ache that doesn’t come from lack of love, but from lack of emotional availability.

We don’t talk about it enough, but we must. Because this is how mental health quietly deteriorates. This is how people, even in the middle of large families, slip into depression. This is how suicides happen — not because people are weak, but because they feel unseen in a room full of people who claim to care.

Family is not just your parents or your siblings. It’s your entire ecosystem — your uncles, aunts, cousins, in-laws — people who play major roles in shaping your emotional world. Their silence matters. Their absence during tough times stings. Their inability to ask the right questions can sometimes push someone to the edge.

And support isn’t only about checking in when things go wrong — it’s also about cheering when someone tries something new.

When a cousin starts an Instagram page or YouTube channel, don’t just scroll past — like it, share it, leave a kind comment.
When your niece launches a small business, don’t just wait to see if it succeeds — talk about it in your groups, connect her with someone, and show genuine interest.
When your brother posts about a job requirement on LinkedIn, write two thoughtful lines of appreciation, share it in your network, and ask him about it next time you call.

These small gestures take seconds, but they tell a person, “I see you. I believe in you.”

Sometimes, the most powerful thing you can say to someone is, “I’m proud of you.”

Say it over a call. Send it in a message. Let them hear it from you, not just strangers on the internet.

To the ones who are building something from scratch — the entrepreneurs, the creators, the silent warriors of new beginnings — you are not alone in feeling this way. And it’s okay to expect more from your family.

And to those who are part of this vast family web, if you truly love someone, don’t wait for an occasion.
Be the first to clap when they try, not just when they win.
Be the one who notices their courage, not just their achievements.

Let’s redefine what support means. Let’s stop mistaking being around for being present. Let’s stop saying “We’re always there for you” and start proving it.

Let’s make family mean something more — something real.