WHY NOBODY GETS SICK ON THEIR WEDDING DAY
- Madhukar Dama
- 5 days ago
- 6 min read
Power of Suppressed Desires, Peak Emotions & Psychosomatic Resilience.
INTRODUCTION
In India, wedding days are chaotic, crowded, overwhelming — yet mysteriously, the bride, groom, and close family never fall sick. No fever. No cough. No acidity. No fatigue. No pain. No migraine. No backache.
Why?
It’s not a coincidence.
It’s not God’s grace.
It’s not the immunity booster tablets.
It’s not the turmeric milk or the banana leaf lunch.
It is the pure force of suppressed desire finally being allowed to move.
A psychosomatic phenomenon of such magnitude that the body, for once, becomes obedient. Energetic. Almost divine. Let’s dive deep.
---
THE PSYCHOSOMATIC TRUTH BEHIND THE WEDDING HIGH
1. LIFELONG SUPPRESSION OF SEXUAL URGE
In traditional Indian settings — even today — premarital sexual activity is shamed, hidden, or restricted.
So from puberty to adulthood, years of biological urge are suppressed and converted into cultural obedience.
But on the wedding day, everything changes.
All the repression is finally allowed to express.
There’s anticipation, excitement, nervousness — not just about rituals or clothes — but about union, touch, and permission to be intimate.
The body says: “At last! You’re letting me be what I always was.”
The mind says: “I’ve been dying for this moment.”
Result?
No sickness can survive this union of mind and body.
---
2. THE DAY OF PERMISSION AND ATTENTION
From childhood, we are told:
“Don’t demand attention.”
“Control yourself.”
“Stay within limits.”
“Don’t cry too much.”
“Don’t laugh too loud.”
But a wedding is different.
Everyone is looking at you.
People are feeding you, dressing you, praising you, praying for you.
For once, your entire being is validated.
Your ego is caressed, your dreams are accepted, and your flaws are ignored.
That’s why: Even the sickest people walk tall on their wedding day.
---
3. NO SPACE FOR ILLNESS TO GROW
Illness needs space to grow — psychological space.
You need time to think “I am not okay.”
You need time to obsess: Why is my head aching? Why is my stomach bloated?
But on a wedding day, there’s no time.
No time for self-pity.
No time for overthinking.
No time for seeking sympathy.
Just movement. Decisions. People. Rituals. Excitement.
Illness is ignored — so it disappears.
---
4. WHEN ALL DESIRES COME TOGETHER, THE BODY OBEYS
Let’s list the desires fulfilled on a wedding day:
The desire to be seen.
The desire to be touched.
The desire to be accepted.
The desire to feel powerful.
The desire to experience ritual and community.
The desire to feel beautiful.
The desire to belong.
And most centrally: the desire to unite sexually.
In that one rare moment — no desire is denied.
And what happens when desires are fulfilled?
The body listens.
The mind stops resisting.
The nervous system comes alive.
The organs cooperate.
The hormones flow.
Digestion improves.
Pain disappears.
Posture improves.
Voice becomes magnetic.
You are healed, not by a medicine — but by permission.
---
WHAT THIS REVEALS ABOUT INDIAN SOCIETY
1. We have weaponised suppression.
We deny people what they most crave: touch, joy, sexuality, expression.
Until one fine day — they’re allowed. And that day is called a wedding.
2. We have proof that desires fuel health.
The bride and groom are healthiest when they are closest to desire.
This shows that many diseases are self-created prisons.
Built from guilt.
Held up by social roles.
And guarded by fear.
3. We have misunderstood holiness.
True holiness is not about rituals.
It’s about alignment — when the body, mind, and emotions are allowed to want the same thing.
---
WHAT HAPPENS AFTER THE WEDDING?
After the high, the crash begins:
Unreal expectations from marriage.
Sudden pressure to please new family.
Repressed again — but this time in the name of "responsibility."
That’s why most newlyweds fall sick after the wedding.
Fever. Headache. Acidity. PCOD. Hair fall. Cold sores.
Not because of virus.
But because the soul was re-caged.
---
FINAL WORD
No one falls sick on their wedding day,
Because for one divine moment,
They are allowed to be who they truly are —
Full of desire, full of joy, and full of life.
It’s not the marriage that makes you feel alive.
It’s the permission.
—
THE HEALING DIALOGUE
Title: “The Wedding Day Never Hurts”
Characters:
Madhukar, the hermit
Ramesh, a newlywed man, drained post-wedding
Sarla, his wife, now anxious and fatigued
Gowri Amma, Sarla’s mother
Vinod, Ramesh’s friend who is always skeptical
---
HEALING DIALOGUE
[Setting: Madhukar’s mud house, with breeze whistling through the mango trees. The couple sits, exhausted. Gowri Amma fans herself. Vinod sips warm tulsi tea.]
Madhukar:
You look like a king and queen who just lost their kingdom.
Sarla:
We were glowing on the wedding day, Swamiji… and now I feel like a squeezed lemon.
Ramesh:
My stomach’s upset. Body aching. Back hurts. She’s crying every night.
Gowri Amma:
But on the wedding day, they were flying like gods. So much energy!
Madhukar (smiling):
Because the soul was free for 24 hours.
For once, you were not suppressing your desires.
Vinod:
What are you saying? They were just happy. Must be the good food, the clothes, the crowd.
Madhukar:
No, child.
It was not the biryani or the sherwani.
It was the permission.
For once, Sarla was not afraid to be seen.
For once, Ramesh didn’t have to hide his desire.
The body became an instrument of celebration — not guilt.
The mind stopped guarding.
And when mind and body stop fighting, miracles happen.
Sarla:
But we didn’t even sleep properly. And yet I was so radiant.
Madhukar:
Because radiance doesn’t come from rest.
It comes from alignment.
Desire and permission dancing together.
Ramesh:
Then why are we falling sick now?
Madhukar:
Because now you are back in the prison.
Now you want to be a “good husband.”
She wants to be a “good wife.”
You’re suppressing again.
Expecting again.
Hiding again.
Pretending again.
Vinod:
So what’s the way out?
Madhukar:
Don’t wait for weddings to feel alive.
Let every day become a wedding day.
Not with noise — but with truth.
Be naked with each other — not just body, but emotions, fears, longings.
Don't suppress. Don't perform.
Just live. And allow life.
---
PART 2: CHARLES BUKOWSKI-STYLED POEM
“The Wedding Day Never Hurts”
everyone’s body is a battlefield,
most days.
we walk with pills in one pocket
and pain in the other.
but on the wedding day
the war stops.
she smiles like a goddess on rent,
he floats like a balloon of lust and lies.
they both become
what they were never allowed to be:
seen, wanted, celebrated,
and allowed to touch
without shame.
a hundred relatives gather
not to bless
but to give the illusion of meaning.
yet the magic lies not in rituals
but in the silent cry of the body saying:
at last.
no acidity. no migraine. no PCOD.
just the electric joy of
finally being permitted
to feel pleasure
without guilt.
but the next morning,
the sickness creeps in —
expectation, control, roles,
the prison returns,
and so do the symptoms.
the tragedy?
they think marriage caused the fatigue.
it was never marriage.
it was the end of permission.
the return of pretending.
---
PART 3: WATERCOLOR ILLUSTRATION
SCENE DESCRIPTION (portrait layout):
Center: A glowing Indian bride and groom under a mandap, radiant with joy.
Above them: a halo of desires — touch, union, visibility, attention, celebration — painted as soft golden swirls.
Around them: a dark border representing society’s rules — “be obedient,” “don’t feel,” “control yourself.”
Bottom: The same couple post-wedding, sitting tired, dull, bent under invisible weights labeled “expectation,” “performance,” “adjustment,” “approval.”
In one corner, Madhukar watches silently under a tree, holding a small diya (lamp), representing conscious light.
—-
THE WEDDING DAY IS A CIRCUS, BUT YOU ARE THE JOKER
A not-so-sober Charles Bukowski-style poem on Indian weddings, desires, and disaster after dessert
---
they dressed him up like a maharaja
a sword, a sehra, a smile glued on
he was sweating bullets
but the photographers said,
“sir, a little more chin, little less reality.”
the bride had twenty-seven pins
in her hair,
forty-eight in her blouse,
and eighty-six reasons to run.
but she smiled like a saree ad.
she didn’t even like marigolds.
the aunties danced
like unpaid extras in a mythological drama
and the uncles discussed mutual funds
like it was foreplay.
some cousin clicked reels
like this was Cannes.
another fainted from dehydration.
the groom’s friend whispered,
“you think they’ll do it tonight?”
they didn’t.
---
and nobody was sick.
not a single soul.
the bride with migraines
had none.
the groom with IBS
digested everything —
even his in-laws.
because desire had a buffet.
for once, everyone
was allowed
to be as dramatic as they always wanted to be.
no guilt.
no shame.
no consequences.
just rented glory.
---
and then,
the lights were taken down.
the bedsheets folded.
the relatives flew off
like mosquitos at sunrise.
the bride cried.
the groom wondered if love
was always this heavy
with gold
and silence.
he had a sore throat now.
she had constipation.
they blamed the food.
but it wasn’t the food.
it was the return to pretending.
the circus ended.
and now they had to
live with the elephant.
---
love is great.
but the wedding day?
that’s just your funeral
with better clothes,
free sweets,
and one last orgasm of applause
before
you start
taking Pan 40 every morning
and smiling for
someone else’s expectations.
—
