I was not forced, neither was I a victim of any scandalous gang, fortunately. But I was almost married to four different people in last year.

You can call them modern-day arranged marriages. Initially, we were being as welcoming as possible for each other. I explained the basic workings in the house and other things, I took them around to show the grocery shops and told them the landmarks nearby. Most importantly, I explained them my schedule and then both of us figured out who will be using the washroom first in the morning, we decided our sides on the bed and whether the lights will be kept on or off while we sleep, who’d boil the milk and make coffee or tea. There was this awkwardness while changing clothes and farting. During the nights, both of us were stiff — no touching or kicking the other one!

Gradually, we got to know each other and found out what are the things that irritate or were unacceptable for the other. For instance, one of them used to hate the ringtone of my early morning alarm. They figured out that I cannot tolerate keeping soiled dishes in the room. Once I had given a passive-aggressive treatment for keeping unwashed feet on my side of the bed!

In a couple of months, we were sharing funny incidences about our family and friends and we knew our siblings by their first names. We knew how long the other would take in the washroom. We knew if the other one was upset and needs to vent out and we’d be their silent listener. We were used to each other’s cuddles and kicking in the nights. We knew our choices of dishes for the breakfast. More than anything we got used to sharing a part of our personal space with each other. The bonding didn’t work the same with all of them, some got too close to my heart and others just slipped by in the lanes of my memories.

Secretly, I cried every time my partner left the place to move on with their life and I was anxious, little bit, when I was informed that I’d be getting a new one. My partners were selected by the real estate brokers and they were my roommates! Well, sharing a room and your bed with someone is as good as getting married to that person. Half-married? I have shared my room and my bed with 4 different roommates in a year. Honestly, I am in love with all my girls in some or the other way!

Share your room with a stranger and you’d get to know yourself much better!

– Harsha