Marriage is not all rainbows and butterflies; you have to give in

When Asha Parekh said, “Marriage is not all rainbows and butterflies; you have to give in to your partner's whims every now and then, and that's a two-way street,” she spoke with the wisdom of one who has watched the passing of many seasons of love. In her words lies a truth as old as time — that marriage is not merely a dance of affection, but a covenant of patience, compromise, and humility. It is a union not of perfection, but of perseverance. The rainbows and butterflies — symbols of passion and romance — may grace the beginning, but what endures is the quiet art of understanding. Parekh, an actress revered in India for her grace and strength, drew from both personal reflection and cultural wisdom to remind us that love’s truest form is not found in constant joy, but in mutual surrender.

In the ancient world, philosophers and poets spoke of love as both sweetness and labor. They knew that human hearts, though drawn together by affection, are shaped by difference — and that difference, if not honored, becomes division. What Parekh expresses is this eternal balance: the recognition that selflessness must walk beside self-expression. To “give in” to one’s partner’s whims does not mean to lose oneself, but to choose peace over pride, to yield not in weakness but in wisdom. For love, like a river, flows best where the stones of ego are worn smooth by the gentle current of patience.

Throughout history, the greatest marriages have not been those free of conflict, but those where both partners learned the sacred rhythm of give and take. Consider the union of Abigail and John Adams, two figures whose love endured across wars, distance, and political turmoil. In their letters, one finds not idealized affection, but the constant work of empathy. They debated fiercely yet loved deeply, each yielding when the other needed strength. It was not the absence of disagreement that sustained them, but the presence of respect. As Parekh says, marriage is a two-way street — it demands not perfection from one, but effort from both.

The metaphor of “rainbows and butterflies” evokes the illusions that modern love often chases — the fleeting moments of passion mistaken for permanence. Parekh’s insight cuts through that illusion, revealing the deeper beauty that lies in endurance. The ancients would have called this the virtue of philia, the steady friendship that grows from shared burdens and mutual care. To love another over years and trials is to learn the discipline of kindness — to find joy in the act of giving, even when the heart feels weary. For love that survives hardship becomes not fragile, but tempered like steel.

Yet Parekh’s wisdom also honors the principle of balance. A marriage where only one gives and the other takes is not a bond but a chain. Her phrase “that’s a two-way street” carries moral weight — it reminds us that true partnership requires reciprocity. Both must bend so that neither breaks. Both must listen so that each feels heard. In this, love mirrors justice: it flourishes only when equality of spirit is maintained. The act of giving, when shared, becomes the highest form of strength — a mutual sacrifice that transforms two lives into one harmony.

There is something deeply human in Parekh’s understanding — a recognition that love’s imperfections are not its downfall but its proof. To accept another’s whims, to forgive their flaws, to laugh through the storms — these are not the failures of love but its victories. Ancient teachers often said that the truest test of virtue lies not in moments of peace but in moments of strain. So too with marriage: it is in the days of misunderstanding that love must prove itself not by passion, but by patience. In yielding, one finds not defeat, but the quiet triumph of togetherness.

Let this truth be carried forward: marriage is a craft, not a dream. It must be shaped daily, with tenderness and toil, like a sculptor shaping stone into grace. To the young, let Parekh’s words be a reminder that love is not sustained by romance alone, but by the humble art of compromise. To the wise, let it be an affirmation that yielding is not loss but partnership in its purest form. And to all, let it be a lesson: that the beauty of love lies not in the rainbows that pass, but in the steadfast light that remains when storms have gone. For marriage, when founded on mutual giving, becomes not a fleeting joy — but a sacred endurance, worthy of eternity.