Flood of feelings

I am 19 and looking back the experience was bitter sweet. There were a lot of difficulties to overcome, and there will be a number of them in future but now, I believe, I would be able to deal with them.

My father is in paramilitary force. My story starts from the time when he was posted in Jammu, it actually is from the time from where I can remember. When he was posted in Jammu he came home after 5 months, and those 5 months seemed endless. After a few more months he was transferred to Delhi, I was elated. I was in 3^rd standard at that time and my younger sister was in 1^st, both of us had long hair.

 Mummy used to fight on daily basis with papa on petty issues regarding me. And one day, all of sudden, she stopped making my braids. I was just 7 and in order to avoid any kind conflict my father got my hair cut to shoulders at first I was very sad but adjusted in no time. In evening I went to market with him to buy hairbands, happily because of thoughts of going school with a new haircut. Probably my mother was not happy, so she hid my hairband under the mattress she slept on. We searched it everywhere and ended up empty handed. I was terrified to go to school without a hairband, out of fear I started crying then only she took out the hairbands and handed them over.

Hate is a very strong word and should not be used until it is from depth of heart. I hate my mother, and I mean it.

First month into 8^th standard I got my period and asked my mother to help me. Instead of helping me she pushed me away saying I was impure now. I had school in next half an hour, wondering what to do now I sat on the floor. After a few minutes papa came and asked what happened, I told him that I got period. He then asked then why are you sitting on the floor. I pointed to sanitary napkins, too shy to even name it. He gave me sanitary napkin and my mother a death glare, and the woman she is she reflected it back.

What was my fault? Just because I was her first child? Because her second child who was a boy died?

By the end of same year I got to know that mummy was pregnant, again. Maybe the hope to have a man in family never dies. She got my younger sister’s gender checked but papa refuse to get her aborted. This time also gender of baby was checked, and thankfully it was a boy, otherwise I am damn sure she would have demanded sixth pregnancy. I was angry, not because they got baby’s gender checked, but because they were having fourth child. My papa is a constable and has a very decent salary. I was furious that they were having one more baby even after having three daughter. I felt as if we didn’t matter. I felt betrayed. I felt lost. I didn’t knew where to go, whom to talk with. I thought of suicide and tried to do the same, but then faces of my sisters came into view and did something else. I went back and planned how we were going to kill the coming baby. But regardless of what we planned, we love our brother a lot.

I never was as smart as my sisters but tried my best to impress my parents. Now I don’t do that because it’s my life not theirs to decide or like. So my mother always tried to humiliate every chance she got. She introduced me like ‘this is my elder daughter and she is an idiot, it’s only my second daughter who’s got all the smartness in the world’.

I’ve been suffering for a long time and will for a long time till the time I leave my current house. I don’t know why she did all she did with me, but when I think deeply I guess deep down I know what she must think. She always thought, and verbalised this thought many times, that I was ill-fated. She always thought it because of me that brother of mine died.

I cannot go back in time but I can just hope that in some point in future things will be better between us.

Share:

Read More

Sindur

The idea of perfect life differs from person to person. My ideal life consists of me completing my studies, getting my dream job of traveling world tasting food, building house on some hill station, getting married to an army man, adopting children and live a satisfied life.

My mother one day met a women who seemingly was lost. In sudden burst of kindness mother went over to her and asked if she could help her. This women could not talk in Hindi properly, she was new in the city and was in search of CGHS (Central Government Heath Scheme)  clinic. On talking to her for a few more minutes mummy got to know that her husband was also in BSF(Border Secutiry Force) and she lived in the same area. Both women went inside the clinic, got checked up by the same doctor and left the clinic. The other women asked mummy to keep in touch and showed her house. My mother told us all this that evening and was very happy to help somebody deal with the situation she herself was in around twenty years ago. She was happy also because of the reason that she got to live near somebody from BSF, like happy old days.

Mr Umesh Pandey and Mrs Champa Pandey visited us after a couple of days. As we never actually lived in a camp (or I don’t have any recollection of it, I don’t know), we were happy to receive somebody from same background. The evening went by easily, we all sat and talked like we knew each other from a long time. We got minor details of their lives. They were married for more than thirty years, they had four children together, they lived in Bihar and shifted here recently, they were allotted three bedroom apartment and rented first room and, the most important piece of information, she referred to her husband as sahib.

Time went on and visits continued. It was only after a year, that bits of upsetting information was coming into focus. These things somehow made me feel hollow, from my perspective her life seemed miserable and lifeless. She must have been very happy with her life as I didn’t see her trying to change things for better. Her fathomless innocence could be seen in her eyes. She had no idea that she had been exploited by hands of her husband for whole of her married life.

My father always said when you see an angry bull take ten steps backwards, but when you see a deceptive change your way. So our dear Mr Umesh Pandey, who seemed very nice, actually not nice. He was a two faced man whose actual nature was only known to his wife and his children, I just got a hint of it and tried to maintain a safe distance. He started opening up with my father and told a lot about himself. He had three daughter, two of them married. He used hush money to pay for his daughters, sixteen lakh rupees each. Why? What was the need?

This man used to beat his wife and son when angry. He said a lot of things to her and I happened to catch those lines quite many times. He once was laughing at his wife’s illiteracy and was boasting about how dumb she was and clearly wanted to humiliate her. This man here I am talking about used to order his wife around. In her last days in Delhi he warned her that he would push her off the train if she didn’t work according to him. This man avoided sleeping beside his wife because she had some medical problem and murmured all night. Not that I am saying that one should sacrifice everything just because of some problem with partner, all I am asking is a bit of patience. Authoritative I understand, but dictator in a relationship is beyond my thinking power. He told her to call him as sahib, maybe he liked the word and his ego stroked.

Whatever the reason may be, I never saw Mr Champa Pandey raise her voice to answer him back all she did was smile back. Not one day I saw her smile deter.

At first I thought she couldn’t understand what he used to say, but with time I noticed something changing in her eyes whenever he tried to humiliate her. Maybe it was her respect for sindur she never said countered back. Maybe it was her upbringing which refrained her from slapping him to remind him that he was not almighty. Maybe she took the phrase “pati parmeshwar” too seriously. Maybe the fear of being a divorcee was scarier than her actual situation.

Whatever the reason may be her Sindur was the cause of her pain and sufferings. In recent years I got to know one champa pandey but beyond four walls of my house there exists many Champa pandey suffering every day because of their sindur. If anything I will never be a Champa Pandey in my life.

Share:

Read More