Domestic Violence (Story)

Disclaimers:

I don't like giving disclaimers about my blog. It's my own personal space after all. But somehow there are times I can't help feel apologetic about what I write. Maybe because I know it is trivial/lame or maybe because I don't want it to be misconstrued in anyway. Still here goes nothing. This lame ass story that I just wrote came to me because of an article I read sometime back on battered wives. No matter how educated/rich you are domestic violence in its many avtaars in a reality for most women in India. It is tragic I know. But undeniably true.

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3 a.m.: He staggered into the house. She couldn’t tell how late it was tough. Living below the poverty lines means you have to do without some luxuries-owning a watch is one of them. He was drunk. As he stood beating at the door she sat muttering “Main nahin jaaun toh..phir kya hoga” But years of being a wife make you mechanical. She got up opened the door. He didn’t quite cross the threshold completely and collapsed midway. Usually she would drag him inside and shut the door. This time, as if in silent rebellion, she let him be.

7.00a.m.: She came back into the house carrying two empty buckets. The municipal tap didn’t oblige today. He was awake rummaging through her trunk. She threw the buckets down and ran towards him. But she was late. He had found the 200 rupees she had hidden there. In one swift movement the money was in his pocket. She protested loudly, yelling. A slap later she was on the floor. She knew better than to resist. She closed her eyes bit her lip and waited. It would all get over in 5 minutes. Minutes later as he walked out the door all that remained of the incident was the bruise on her neck. "Phir der ho gayi aaj" she muttered to herself.

***

3 a.m.: Doorbell rang in quick succession. Sumi looked at the watch. "3 a.m.!" She sat muttering “Main nahin jaaun toh..phir kya hoga” But years of being a wife make you mechanical. She got up opened the door. He staggered into the house. He was drunk. He sat on the sofa trying to remove his shoes but collapsed midway. Usually she would put him to bed. This time, as if in silent rebellion, she let him be.

6.30 a.m.: She sat working on her presentation. "Aaj toh bas kisi tarah se neepat jaye yeh meeting" she muttered. From the adjoining room she heard him stirring. "Sumi" "Sumi" he called twice. He was awake. She went but tried to say no. "Early morning meeting hai aaj" A slap later she was on the carpeted floor. She knew better than to resist. She closed her eyes bit her lip and waited. It would all get over in 5 minutes. Minutes later as he walked out the door all that remained of the incident was the bruise on her neck. "Phir der ho gayi aaj" she muttered to herself.

****

7.30 a.m.: The door bell rang. She went to open it. She came in.

"Aaj phir late ho gayi tu"

"Kya karoon memsaab mera mard kal raat daru peekar aaya tha"

"Roz tera kuch bahana hota hai"

"Nahin memsaab, kasam se"

"Chal abb baat band kar aur pehle bartan kar"

Both the women went to the kitchen. Silently going over the happenings of the morning. Sumi looked up at Nimmo and her eyes fell on the bruise. Involuntarily her hand went up to her neck.

"Chal bartan baad mein kar lena. Pehle chai bana doo cup. Ek tu lelena. Fridge mein bread bhi rakhi hai."

So saying she turned back to the gas, stirring the vegetable pot. Nimmo surprised looked up and now noticed the mark on her memsaab's neck. Involuntarily her hand went to neck.

"Acha memsaab banati hoon"

They stood there knowing they were sharing more than just tea. Two worlds, two women - married to the same man.