The culturally dominant vision of love is based on the idea of a romantic encounter, marked by love at first sight and passion. Yet wherever this vision has prevailed, the marital bond has weakened: countries that have embraced it have seen their divorce rates soar to dizzying levels—over 80% in Spain and over 90% in Portugal, according to some sources. By contrast, a country that rejects this conception shows a divorce rate below 1%: India, which offers many lessons on the longevity of marriage.
It should be noted, however, that in India divorce is strongly discouraged by a constraining social system marked by social exclusion and a lack of public assistance, particularly for single mothers. What profoundly shapes the matrimonial structure in India is above all the widespread practice of arranged marriages. While this model can rightly be criticized on certain points—especially the issue of consent in some cases—it must nevertheless be acknowledged for its “performance” in terms of marital durability, as well as the stability it provides to millions of children born into such family structures. Certainly, under different circumstances—particularly if women enjoyed greater material independence—divorces would likely be more numerous; nevertheless, it is difficult to imagine that a society founded on arranged marriage could experience divorce rates comparable to those of contemporary Western countries.
If one were to identify the reasons for this success, one might argue that one of its foundations lies in the absence of an abundance of choices, both before and after marriage. Unlike Western countries, India does not cultivate the practice of dating. Having a girlfriend or boyfriend is widely frowned upon, seen as a lack of commitment or seriousness. Marriage remains the preferred path toward family life and its primary objective. In contrast to the dominant Western view, which sees the multiplication of partners as a way to sustain romance and accumulate “life experience,” Indian culture places greater value on the notion of purity—whether of the heart or the mind. This ancient belief, likely rooted in patriarchy, seems to apply equally to women and men. The same notion leads to particular care in choosing a future husband or wife: the sociology of the potential spouse takes precedence over the existence—or absence—of consuming love.
If one were to contrast these two visions in a single stroke, one would say that one conceives love as an encounter, while the other sees it as a patient construction. One looks for winning lottery numbers; the other envisions a house to be built. The former clings to an opportunistic present, while the latter turns toward the future. A house is not built in a day; neither is a family. The couple, the heart of this structure, is the starting point from which future children will be born—this is why it deserves care. That said, the couple is only the dawn of something greater. From this perspective, love is tempered by trials: obstacles to overcome together, difficulties to resolve as a pair, trust that grows stronger. Love is not received ready-made: it is built, because it is earned. And it is only through the test of time that the true value of a person—and the strength of a bond—is revealed.
Certainly, no one can please everyone—and vice versa. An encounter is never entirely a matter of chance: it is the culmination of prior construction, that of two individuals. If someone appeals to us, it may be the result of patient work on the body and the mind. Others would object that this is not entirely true: we are also born with attributes that do not, at first glance, result from construction. Others still would see it as the outcome of a construction spanning several lives, across incarnations. Whatever the case, when we meet someone, we admire something in them—often born of self-work—and this affects us. Ultimately, a symbiotic encounter is nothing more than the resonance of intimately neighboring consciousnesses. Thus, love is first built within oneself before being built as a couple. The more a person has cultivated love within, the more capable they will be of harmonizing with someone who carries love of equal intensity.
Believing that a relationship is merely an encounter inclines us to idealize the other, freezing them in the initial image. Yet the intoxication of the beginning must not make us forget the length of the road: to last, one must welcome obstacles one by one, for every trial overcome becomes another stone strengthening the couple.
If so many people separate, it may be because they remain trapped in the initial image of the other and can no longer tolerate the gap with the real person who gradually reveals themselves. A couple should be thought of as an adventure: two beings who support one another in pursuing common goals, without denying their own aspirations. At its core, forming a couple means forging an alliance—almost between two clans—to raise offspring or, more simply, to become a better person.
Many live under the illusion of knowing themselves, lacking experiences strong enough to temper their character. The same is true of the couple: it needs difficulties in order to truly meet itself; before that, it believes it already knows itself. How, then, can one claim to find the right person if one does not fully know oneself?
A decision—especially one with major consequences—should never be made from a place of lack: fatigue, anger, or loneliness cloud judgment. When hunger grips you, you readily throw yourself at anything: fast food, fatty, unbalanced foods. By contrast, entering a supermarket when you are full leads you to choose with much greater clarity. Eating well, fundamentally, means choosing what you will eat when you are not hungry. The same applies to love: if loneliness weighs on you and you have not learned to make peace with it, you will seek presence at any cost, without always considering the human worth or moral quality of the person. This is why it is essential to know how to be alone in such circumstances. It is very often in solitude that one deepens self-knowledge and cultivates authenticity.
A couple can become a place of alienation when the desire to please the other outweighs self-affirmation. In philosophy, alienation is the loss of freedom and critical awareness under the influence of social, economic, or ideological constraints. In psychology, alienation refers to a condition in which the individual feels estranged from themselves or from reality, marked by a loss of bearings or depersonalization. Here lies the trap: the couple brings happiness, but maintaining it can lead to constant adaptation to the other’s expectations, at the cost of self-renunciation and, ultimately, unhappiness. To avoid this pitfall, one must preserve authenticity while making it compatible with the relationship, which requires establishing continuous communication within the couple.
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