In the last two years since we shifted to this new neighbourhood, I have not seen much of her. But whenever I do, I see her running around her children. Three boys and one girl.
She is rotund and short and always wears salwar kameez with the dupatta covering her chest. She doesn't talk much to the neighbours except for a few people who are her friends. Once in a fortnight, she organizes a chatty kitty party in one of the caged homes in the neighbourhood.
I always used to think that she was happy and might not have seen too much turmoil. Her husband is a construction business owner with investments in trades of other kinds, that most people in the vicinity have no inkling about.
In big flashy neighbourhoods of South Delhi, people guard their privacy with a watchdog's vigilance. They have learned to wash their dirty laundry inside their homes. A secret is like a piece of sweetmeat buried safely in the insides of their mouth. Since I have been traversing around the country for my project and conferences, I have rarely lived in this new neighbourhood that we shifted to, two years ago.
Three months ago, I had to catch a late night flight from Kochi after I had thrown up twice with a nasty headache that was refusing to leave me alone. Since then I have been on medication and not allowed to move around much, until the call of duty beckons. On most of the days my parents are around after recently retiring, but they do enjoy and indulge in socializing now and then.One such evening when mom and dad were away, attending a post-wedding reception at a godforsaken place, away from home, I happened to have a chat with our maid. Mom had instructed her to make the dinner for me, and in the midst of dishing out my favourite delicacy she disclosed a clandestine secret that shook the earth beneath my feet.
All was not well in the house of this next door neighbour of ours, who threw lavish kitty parties for her friends and always made it a point to bring us a big box of sweets on diwali. The mask she was wearing never gave away signs of anything being amiss. On earlier occasions twice, I had seen discernible bruises on her arms. Once during a casual chat with her I had even ended up asking about the huge gash on her neck. She quickly hid it with her blue duppatta and told me that she had accidentally been injured by her voluptuous necklace. I had since then struggled to believe her version of the story.The maid's startling claims had put an end to my doubts.She was a domestic abuse victim who was silently experiencing the hardship to not let her marriage crumble. Our maid also told me that her husband had another wife with whom he had sired two children. Behind the institution of marriage, many men have covertly fed on sensual gratification by leeching on the bodies of their legally wedded wives. This man has acted against the Hindu marriage act, by marrying two women, and although it's a famous secret, it has been silently brushed under the carpet.Yes, marital rape is a reality. It happens in our neighbourhood and we quietly turn a blind eye to it. In India, you can't talk to a marital rape victim, because she will preserve her secret like an undercover cop, which is why most people mind their own business. She has her own reasons of doing it, but most of the times it's the fear of being ostracized by a society and the lack of a safe place to lead her life, if she were to walk out of her marriage.The dreaded details revealed that her husband was a sadist and alcoholic who found pitiless pleasure in inflicting wounds on the body of this mother of four children, who had found respite in the garish luxurious parties she loved to throw.In the lavish neighbourhood cloistered by cemented buildings and trendy cars, I realized there were stinking secrets entombed in the walls concealed by giant towering doors that will never let the sobs of this woman escape. Some marriages are merely a legal contract and the wife is a helpless sufferer whose day begins with a fake smile to fool the world and ends with a loud thrash that leaves behind another scar to keep count of the suffering she endears.
According to the last exhaustive family survey done by the government, more than 54% of men and 51% of women said it was okay for a man to beat his wife if she disrespected her in-laws, neglected her home or children, or even over something as trivial as putting less - or more - salt in the food.
Picture credit: http://jm-aq.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/10/stop-domestic-violence-logo.png
Original link
She is rotund and short and always wears salwar kameez with the dupatta covering her chest. She doesn't talk much to the neighbours except for a few people who are her friends. Once in a fortnight, she organizes a chatty kitty party in one of the caged homes in the neighbourhood.
I always used to think that she was happy and might not have seen too much turmoil. Her husband is a construction business owner with investments in trades of other kinds, that most people in the vicinity have no inkling about.
In big flashy neighbourhoods of South Delhi, people guard their privacy with a watchdog's vigilance. They have learned to wash their dirty laundry inside their homes. A secret is like a piece of sweetmeat buried safely in the insides of their mouth. Since I have been traversing around the country for my project and conferences, I have rarely lived in this new neighbourhood that we shifted to, two years ago.
Three months ago, I had to catch a late night flight from Kochi after I had thrown up twice with a nasty headache that was refusing to leave me alone. Since then I have been on medication and not allowed to move around much, until the call of duty beckons. On most of the days my parents are around after recently retiring, but they do enjoy and indulge in socializing now and then.One such evening when mom and dad were away, attending a post-wedding reception at a godforsaken place, away from home, I happened to have a chat with our maid. Mom had instructed her to make the dinner for me, and in the midst of dishing out my favourite delicacy she disclosed a clandestine secret that shook the earth beneath my feet.
All was not well in the house of this next door neighbour of ours, who threw lavish kitty parties for her friends and always made it a point to bring us a big box of sweets on diwali. The mask she was wearing never gave away signs of anything being amiss. On earlier occasions twice, I had seen discernible bruises on her arms. Once during a casual chat with her I had even ended up asking about the huge gash on her neck. She quickly hid it with her blue duppatta and told me that she had accidentally been injured by her voluptuous necklace. I had since then struggled to believe her version of the story.The maid's startling claims had put an end to my doubts.She was a domestic abuse victim who was silently experiencing the hardship to not let her marriage crumble. Our maid also told me that her husband had another wife with whom he had sired two children. Behind the institution of marriage, many men have covertly fed on sensual gratification by leeching on the bodies of their legally wedded wives. This man has acted against the Hindu marriage act, by marrying two women, and although it's a famous secret, it has been silently brushed under the carpet.Yes, marital rape is a reality. It happens in our neighbourhood and we quietly turn a blind eye to it. In India, you can't talk to a marital rape victim, because she will preserve her secret like an undercover cop, which is why most people mind their own business. She has her own reasons of doing it, but most of the times it's the fear of being ostracized by a society and the lack of a safe place to lead her life, if she were to walk out of her marriage.The dreaded details revealed that her husband was a sadist and alcoholic who found pitiless pleasure in inflicting wounds on the body of this mother of four children, who had found respite in the garish luxurious parties she loved to throw.In the lavish neighbourhood cloistered by cemented buildings and trendy cars, I realized there were stinking secrets entombed in the walls concealed by giant towering doors that will never let the sobs of this woman escape. Some marriages are merely a legal contract and the wife is a helpless sufferer whose day begins with a fake smile to fool the world and ends with a loud thrash that leaves behind another scar to keep count of the suffering she endears.
According to the last exhaustive family survey done by the government, more than 54% of men and 51% of women said it was okay for a man to beat his wife if she disrespected her in-laws, neglected her home or children, or even over something as trivial as putting less - or more - salt in the food.
Picture credit: http://jm-aq.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/10/stop-domestic-violence-logo.png
Original link
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