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I lost my smile when I was in the seventh grade. From then on, I poured myself into studies, carrying the responsibility of being the eldest among three siblings. Fun and play faded away as I chased good ranks in class, and in that seriousness, I began to understand the reality of my family’s status.
When my father took voluntary retirement from his bank job, I grew even more determined. I told myself there was no space for love or distractions—I had to focus on getting into engineering and securing a good job to support my father financially.
In a middle-class family with three daughters, the pressure of marriage weighed heavily on my parents. The dowry system made them anxious, and my mother wanted me to settle into a job before thinking of a wedding. But fate was unkind—I struggled to find a good job and faced hurdles in securing a visa for higher studies abroad. My parents, disappointed, pushed for marriage, but my strong will convinced them to give me one more chance. By God’s grace, I eventually completed my Master’s degree.
After that, I allowed myself small joys—saving money, helping my parents, and later, finding meaning in motherhood when my son was born. My marriage, however, was not easy. My husband was adamant and dominating, and it took time and struggle for him to understand me and for love to grow between us.
Through all these trials, I rarely thought of enjoyment for myself. Even now, living a lonely life away from my loved ones, I feel desolated. People call me serious, say I never smile, but they don’t see the responsibilities that shaped me. Comedy shows or movies never tempted me—I valued time and money too much to chase fleeting fun. I lived content with what I had, without longing for what I didn’t.
So when people blame me for being too serious, I wish they would look at my background instead of judging. Seriousness is not a flaw—it is often the force that makes things happen correctly. Parents who scold their children are not “angry people who don’t know how to live life”—they are shaping futures with love and discipline.
I too wanted to enjoy life—travel, hiking, movies—but I restricted myself for the sake of family and responsibility. Even now, in my mid-forties, I feel life is incomplete without a partner to share simple joys like visiting a temple or watching a film. In that emptiness, I see God as my husband. Today, in the temple, I felt His silent smile upon me, a smile filled with love, and for the first time in years, I was happy.
— Jessy Jacob
