Epilogue
It was the fifth anniversary celebrations of Aashadeep. Shonali felt a strange peace in her heart. It was not as if all her problems had been solved, but somehow being with so many other abused women, all victims of exploitation, sexual, and financial, physically battered, mentally shattered ; and helping them had healed her wounds.
Anousha was the warm efficient housekeeper who looked after the needs of all those who walked in, plying them with tea and samosas. Sometimes even food helps one relax. Naina’s sense of inadequacy disappeared as she handled the calls, emails, filing and accounting.
Life goes on sour at times, sweet too, but at least worth living!
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Was it only few year’s back? she wondered. Her thoughts took her back to those carefree days.
“Mummy my tiffin, I’m getting late! Bye, I might get late, I have throwball practice today; don’t worry, “yelling as she sped away on her blue and black Scooty, signaling to her honking friends to move on.
You must always be independent! Stand up for yourself. Learn to express your views, do your own work. Why should you cower and take things lying down? Fight back! Words, Words, mere words! When the time comes all these well-meaning lectures remain just that, words! She thought of all the debates and discussions she had heard, and participated in. No giving or taking of dowry, we’ll never allow it. All fiery young girls took an oath not to get married to dowry takers. The parents too assented to the idea; after all it’s not everyone who have daughters with such idealistic thoughts and determination to practice.
So here she was, Anusha Verma, nee Sinha married without dowry in an excellent family to an only son. Working in a multinational, IIT, IIM you know great package! Father in law has lots of property, good looking boy; isn’t she lucky? Neighbour’s envy owner’s pride? Was she this? Not really!
The trouble actually started quite early. It’s something to say you do not want dowry and another to actually mean it and accept the girl with her trousseau and jewellery. This she realized within a month of her beautiful, well arranged, well attended wedding. “My son got proposals from so many excellent families, Mr X , so…oo rich! They were giving that new model Car; I really do not know car names!! Mrs Y had promised a fully furnished flat in Delhi…but my simple boy…and his ideals; decided on you, lucky girl! would be her mother in laws constant refrain. Parikshit was a nice man, no doubt, idealistic quite, but more importantly absolutely spineless. His ideals, had been espoused by his parents to impress all the society folk; how they praised them, how much of goodwill, had been generated by gesture of theirs.
After the wedding, started the constant ragging and bickering and gentle and not so gentle pressure to go home, and get some worthy presents. It was not only the mother but even father would say, how they needed a new car and he definitely felt Parikshit should not be moving with wife on a scooter; looked really awful didn’t it? So, Anusha went home; home, but they used to say a girl’s home is with her husband, what an irony, but now she was sent ‘home’. Her parents were shocked. “But they said they didn’t want anything Anu! I really can’t understand,” said her father. “I went in for a grand wedding just to make them feel I’m not scrimping and scrounging on my only daughter’s wedding. Why are they behaving like this?”
“Because that’s how they are, when you peel off that veneer of sophistication, their gracious smiles and polite talks; they are absolutely uncouth, all they can talk about is money, money money! car washing machine, TV Frig, and what have you!!. How I didn’t bring any fixed deposits or shares, either like Malini, or Hema or whoever. Papa I am fed up. Parikshit is nice on his own, but doesn’t stand a chance in front of his parents.
They have a big house, lot of furniture electronic goods, crystal and stuff, yet act as if my not taking anything has made them poor. My talents, my paintings, singing, my taste in decoration, embroidery, my interest in gardening, even my cooking, are not even acknowledged, leave alone appreciated. Oh, what did I get into?” and Anusha started sobbing. The long loud sobs continued while her mother stroked her hair and hugged her. Her father stood motionless, his grim countenance clearly showing his thoughts.
I’ll go and meet them and tell them what I think of them, he fumed.” No, be patient, haste makes waste” said Mrs Reema Sinha. “Go and sleep. Everything will work out.”
Parikshit too was upset. He had really liked Anusha, she was a good companion. He had hoped after years of sifting through marriage proposals and photos to settle down to a married life, kids. But this new Problem. He decided to ring immediately. “Hello Parikshit here, may I speak to Anusha?
“Namaste, of course, yes please hold on, I’ll call her”. Reena could barely control her emotions. “Anusha, Anusha, phone for you Parikshit!” Anusha came out of her room slowly and received the call. “When are you coming?” asked Parikshit. “I don’t know, because I can’t ever bring the car demanded”, said Anusha clearly, slowly. “If only my coming is okay, then I will come whenever you say.”
Parikshit, was silent. He realized how deep the hurt had gone. I’ll come to take you soon, he said, but was not too sure himself!
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She stared at the wash basin as wave of nausea engulfed her; her abdomen contracted with pain, her chest heaved as she vomited again and again. Oh God, what is this? She gasped as her head reeled and she held on to the towel stand for support.
What are you doing here asked Ramesh as he discovered Naina in this posture. “I vomited” she admitted, my head…stomach aching. He helped her to her bed before calling his mother. They had been married for 6-8 months and seemed quite happyThe senior Mrs Agarwal came in waddling; her size alone could petrify Naina. “What is the matter? You modern girls, no stamina, just skin and bones, figure-vigure all rubbish,” she ranted as she looked at Naina.
“I’ll get the doctor” said Ramesh. “No No I’m sure she is pregnant” announced Pratima Agarwal. “Listen you make sure you take her to that good lady doctor who does those tests which can tell us what child she will have. We don’t want a line of silly girls in this house like my sister’s.”
Naina was shocked to the core. She had expected the pregnancy and even hoped that it would change the atmosphere at home. After all a love marriage bahu is never really accepted. Ramesh had seen and chosen her at a wedding. Although his mother didn’t wholly approve, he had manage to persuade her. But the snide remarks and caustic comments never did stop, however hard she tried to please. This was the latest.
Ramesh took Naina to Dr Roy the well-known gynecologist in town. It seemed she had been primed by a friend of Mrs Agarwal. She suggested not merely confirmation tests but also blood tests, ultrasound amniocentesis, etc. Naina asked why the last? She replied you will know the gender, and whether all is normal etc. It’s always better. You’ll have an idea of the sex of the child. Maybe not to you but your family is clear, they want you to keep only a male child not a female. And what about the posters that say it is a crime ? This is because you are special.
Naina prayed and prayed hard This process, it was so painful, why go through this. She wondered how could a woman say no to a girl child and her husband what a wimp he’d turned out to be. Male chauvinist saying after all it’s natural to want a male child- Pariwar ka waris what nonsense, what rubbish. She continued her prayers, leaving her unborn’s fate to God?
The test is negative; negative what did that mean wondered Naina. ‘A girl I knew it,” said Pratimaji. “This girl cannot even carry a male child. Get rid of it Dr”, she said and turned on her heel and left, Naina pleaded and cajoled with Ramesh to no avail, what was the point in having an unwanted child he said. Go in for the MTP. She was taken to the OT and that was it.
Female foeticide, female foeticide, screamed the headlines in Naina’s head. She’d toss and turn all night in bed as a pink frock clad chubby baby beckoned her. Why mother why Ma? Why was my time on earth so short? Why couldn’t I play with you? I wanted you as my Mama. Didn’t you want me? Don’t cry Mama I will come again.
Silly girl! Much ado about nothing everyone said, as she moved around like a ghost. But she couldn’t digest that she Naina had done exactly what she had protested against for years. She was the champion of female rights. The succorer to the exploited and here she was, equally exploited, unchampioned, uncared for.
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“You know my maid’s husband, horrible fellow, doesn’t give her any money, drunken to boot and now gallivanting with another woman. These low-class fellows! No morals” absolutely said Kavita to her friends at the kitty party. The other socialites nodded vigourously. Such problems seemed miles away from their diamond studded fingers and chiffon clad bodies as they sipped Campari from glasses.
Their lives revolved around new cars, spas and gyms, fashion shows and ‘good causes’ where they could be seen donating something or the other, clad in designer wear.
But this problem touched one heart. Was it only a low-class problem? What about the high class, well educated, multinational executive- her husband? What had he done? She was pretty tall educated smart. Her husband too abused her. She continued for the sake of the children. Mitali and Aman.
Rewind and play…’you …..creature. The very sight of you irritates me,” he would yell. Then pull her hair or slap her. As the days progressed, his verbal abuses and physical battering reached a plateau. But the torment continued differently. To make her feel inferior he would take to praising his office secretary or colleague What a paragon of efficiency and she…the less said the better amidst his pauses!
Her life revolved around her children and her ‘friends’. None of them knew the real Shonali. They saw only the smiling cheerful active, talented socialite, who dressed smartly though not always ‘in’ But her vivacity made up for her lack of fashion. Shonali never let Tarun’s behavior demoralize her. Her belief in God, meditation and prayers made her determined to overcome these hurdles. She kept looking for opportunities to escape this hell.
The opportunity came quite soon. She was to speak at a Ladies Forum. She had prepared her speech laboriously, but when she started speaking, the well-prepared speech was thrown away; her well modulated voice ran through the whole gamut of emotions, her audience was spellbound. Some could not hold back their tears, some were too shell shocked to stir. As she finally stepped down after a marathon 30 minutes, the hall was quiet. She was unnerved. Then the thundering applause began. It’s not every day that a simple housewife suddenly turns tigress as she speaks on the problems of middle class women.
Anousha slowly weaved her way amongst the crowd. She desperately wanted to meet Shonali, she had to talk to this person, who seemed to know and understand her problems somehow.
It took some time for Naina to come to her senses. The dramatic speech had hit home. She couldn’t believe that there was someone who spoke what she felt. She rose to her feet and struggled to cross the umpteen ladies on her path.
“Shonaliji, Shonaliji,” the two voices seemed to chorus. As their eyes met Anusha and Naina could feel the pain in the other’s heart. Shonali turned to meet them. You described my life said Anusha, and mine said Naina. It struck Shonali at that moment, this was what she wanted – a mission in life and together they gave birth to Aashadeep, their cell lay bare their feelings to emote to talk to cry to laugh, the very process was catharizing as they started on a new journey together.
Shared by : Prabha Raghunandan,
Author’s bio: Prabha Raghunandan is a full time social worker with Inner Wheel, a poet and writer in her spare time . Her life’s experiences are reflected in her stories and poems. In the month where Orange the World is gathering momentum, this story shows how deep and widespread domestic abuse is and a few forms that it takes.
