The curse of beauty

                   She stared at her reflection in the mirror, wiping her tears from her damp face. The summer heat was unbearable, her clothes stuck to her skin even as she was gasping for breath between sobs. Once again, she fought the urge to hit her head on the glass and ruin the face that had caused her so much agony. While she was still struggling with her thoughts, he came back to her. She did not even have a moment to cry in despair. He begged her to stay back, his moist eyes pleading her to understand his love. Like always, she gave in to his unreasonable demands after some time. He would not leave her alone until she did as he wished. It was the same story repeating every time, but it was not how this story began.

               
                    He belonged to an affluent family of their times. Their family had acres of lands cultivating rice and a variety of vegetables enough to sustain the whole village. The transport in the village was their monopoly as they owned all the vehicles that connected to the town. He was the youngest and most pampered son. Even though he could have chosen to manage their farms or transport business, he chose to move away from it and make his mark in the city. At a young age, he moved to the city and decided to set up a textile shop in the heart of the city. It was easy to start with the support of his father who sold a few vehicles in their village. When he had established himself well, it was time for his family to look for a suitable bride for him. He was the most eligible bachelor and proposals from nearby villages were flooding, but his parents had other plans. They wanted a bride who was from a poor family and would always be submissive to her husband.
                                                   

                                                                      Image credit

                  She was the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes on. Her fair, flawless skin glowed in the plain, cotton pink saree that she had draped. When she looked at him with her dark brown eyes, his heart skipped a beat. It did not take much for his parents to know that their son was enchanted by this girl. They became skeptic that the girl would have their son hen pecked and were not too keen on the match now. But, he had fallen head over heels in love with her and rebelled to the extent that he refused to marry anyone else. Giving in to his wish, the parents agreed and within a month she became his bride.

                It was the happiest day of their lives. She was blissfully unaware of what a vision she was on her wedding day. Relatives from far away places had heard of her and had come to attend the wedding. Beaming with pride next to her, her husband had the most victorious smile. For him, she was the trophy wife. He had never felt as accomplished as that before. She hardly knew the man she had married, but she knew he adored her already.

               The first night that they spent together, he couldn't take his eyes off her. She looked so delicate, so pure that he was scared of hurting her. She looked terrified on her part. He sat beside her, talking to her about her likes, her dislikes and everything he could think of. Slowly she began to relax in his presence and opened up to him. Before they knew, it was the crack of the dawn and relatives started hustling about for the feast to follow. They had spent the night sleepless, talking.

               As per rituals, the girl had to leave for her parent's house following the feast. When the time had come for her to go with her parents, her husband was teary eyed much to the embarrassment of his family. It was something that people laughed about for years to come. But for her, it would remain a memory she would revisit fondly. It was then that she had wholeheartedly given herself to him for a lifetime.

             When she returned back, they move to their house in the city. Those were the blissful days of their wedded life. She set up the house beautifully, cooked for him during the day. He started coming home earlier than usual, accompanying her to temples. They had numerous invites for lunch and dinner after marriage at their relatives' houses. Everytime someone commented on the beauty of his wife, his chest swelled with pride. The initial days rolled by with ease. Though his absence was affecting the business, he kept leaving early to spend time with his wife.

                                     

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            In the third month of their marriage, she became pregnant with his child. Their joy knew no bounds. Since it was her first pregnancy, it was assumed she would stay with her parents till the child was a few months old as per customs. The thought of parting from his wife for months was unbearable for him. He refused to let her go to her parents. Instead, he came home earlier to take care of her. He missed work when she was unwell. His negligence to the business was now turning to losses. The numbers started dwindling, the cash inflow reduced. He was hanging on to the business on his finger nails but his priority remained his wife. In the final month of her pregnancy, her parents joined them to help with the delivery. Even then he hardly left her side. He was terrified of losing her in childbirth.

             She gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. She couldn't have been happier in her life. Even though he wished for a baby boy secretly, he was happy to see his baby girl. He started becoming more regular with his business as a new sense of responsibility arose in him. She spent all her time with the baby. When he returned in the evening, she was exhausted with all the work. Many nights she stayed awake as the baby cried in the cradle and then slept with the baby between them. He had lost his wife, all he could see was the mother of his child. He even started resenting the child sometimes. She could feel his aloofness. She tried to be cheerful around him but she herself was dealing with gloominess that she couldn't explain. With no one to share her thoughts with, she was increasingly getting depressed.

            It was a confusing phase of her life. She was grappling with the new motherhood, but she was also failing as  a wife. Every time he came close to her, she moved away. As the child started growing, her interaction with the outside world also grew. She talked to the neighboring women who came to see the baby, went to the doctor for the vaccination, started shopping for baby on her own. Her social circle was slowly increasing. It was during this time that he started becoming increasingly insecure. Each time someone said they had met her in the market, or commented on how she hadn't changed one bit after pregnancy, he felt uneasy. He would go home and make love to her passionately. If she was exhausted and tried to deny him, he would be furious and blame her of not loving him anymore. She would give in out of guilt. She could not identify when his insecurity became his obsession. He would drop in home at unexpected hours. Some days he would go to his shop and return within an hour to simply be at home with her. By now, the business couldn't be sustained and he had taken heavy loans in the market. He made his father sell all of their vehicles to get some more cash inflow. His family started resenting her and blamed her for keeping her husband home all the time. For them, she was the one who was tempting her husband to stay with her, while she was herself struggling with his excessive love.

              At last he had to close his business. The loses were so huge that he had to sell his house in the city to pay for it. They moved back to his village. They had become talk of the village. She had got used to the taunts of bringing about downfall of his business. Being the same village as his relatives also meant more family functions to attend. Wherever she went, he accompanied her. Her mother-in-law was fed up of her son not working and asked her to stay at home. She was socially isolated but at home she was not spared of the taunts. When he saw her crying, he too broke down. He fought with his father and asked for his share in the inheritance. Nobody had ever asked for inheritance while the head of the family was still alive. They cursed her for separating their son. He sold his part of the lands and with the money built a new house away from his family home. She thought this would be their new start. How wrong she had been..

            Once again she was alone in the house and he would be worried about who would come to visit. She had long stopped going to any function or visiting any relatives but a friend or relative would sometimes drop to their place. She wasn't sure if he had doubts on her loyalty or was petrified of someone winning over her, but the presence of another human being near her would make him anxious. After trying his hand at textile business, he was giving agriculture business a shot. A few months it had actually run into profits, but soon he returned to his old ways and started coming home early. If someone happened to join them for tea, he would tell her to stay inside and himself serve tea and snacks. Soon, they again became a subject for ridicule. People started avoiding their house. She was pushed deeper into isolation. He started running into debts again and went to his father again to ask for more money. This time, his family refused to give him a single penny. He broke off all ties with them and again sold the house to pay for the loans.

            With no other alternative, they moved into a remote village closer to her parents's house. It was a place where she had many friends and relatives. Familiarity and her own people made her happy. She began to be cheerful again. Her daughter too was growing up to be a replica of her mother. He was overjoyed to see his wife just like he had married her. But he discouraged her from leaving the house for any purpose. She was ready to do that as well as long as he regularly worked and made life easier for them. But she knew it would only last for sometime. But this time he had a plan. He bought a piece of land in the interiors of the village which was difficult to access. They were practically the only humans in that stretch of land. The house was literally atop a plateaued land and had coconut trees all around it. They had a walk a bit to go to the main road. No one ever visited them there.

            It had been  6 months since she had seen another human apart from her daughter and husband. She was craving for normal human company. Once in a while he took her to see her parents but even there she hardly had time to talk to them alone. For those who saw them, she was lucky to have a husband who showered her with so much love. He practically did everything possible to make her life comfortable except let her be on her own! Every time she fought with him, he would be devastated and plead for forgiveness. It was frustrating to hate a man who loved her so much. She no longer knew if she loved him or pitied him. He was scared that another human being would influence her to leave him or love another. He confessed this during one of his break downs. In his thoughts, she was the perfect human ever and at no cost did he want anyone to take her away from him. That is what his nightmares were made of. She wondered what she had done wrong to give such impression. She had always loved him and kept his needs above anything else. Why did he feel that she would think of leaving him and behaved in a way that would actually make her want to? She couldn't have imagined her palace of happiness would turn to a prison with no escape.

                                             

                                                                     Image courtesy
           She was the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes on. Her beauty had killed every happiness in their life. She wished she was just an ordinary looking girl. She hated to see the mirror that reminded her of her fate. While those who knew her still admired her beauty, her dark brown eyes had a sad story that only she knew..

         

I am not a feminist

                          In a casual discussion that turned into a stupid argument, one of my female colleagues took sides with another female colleague. To justify her action she quickly said, "I am not a feminist, but I will stand by what she said." 

                   In another woman's group that I was once a part of, we discussed ideas of what we planned for the year ahead and someone said, "I would like women to lead. I am not a feminist but I feel that women have a lot of potential to lead"

                   It's a pattern. "I AM NOT A FEMINIST" is a disclaimer before any woman asserts herself. Women add it to make it clear that they are talking generally and not in support of the sisterhood that has established a society where they can freely voice their opinion. 

                  Over the years, the term has been twisted and perceived in ways that women now think that being a feminist is a bad thing! Almost every strong woman that I know is scared to admit she's a feminist. And yet, all of them are feminists. What they do not know is, what is feminism!

                   What exactly is feminism? To quote Wikipedia "Feminism is a range of political movements, ideologies, and social movements that share a common goal: to define, establish, and achieve political, economic, personal, and social equality of sexes"

                    In short, believing that women are as good as men is feminism. Believing that women are better than men is not! If you get the meaning right, even men can be feminist! No one needs estrogen to be a feminist.

                                                  

Image courtesy: Credit

                         "What do you need feminism for? Reservation for women, free education for women, lesser loan rates for women, there is everything under the sun for women. Women are abusing the power they now have. Did you hear Deepika Padukone talking about "her choice". She says its her choice if she wants to cheat outside marriage. If a guy said that he would receive so many flacks from the society. But she is a woman. Shes free to do whatever she wants!" This was a discussion among some men I knew.

                         

                        I find it funny how some people take one example from an elite group of women and generalize it for the whole women population. These same people cannot digest the fact that majority of the women still do not even have human rights, let alone equal rights. It is not just men who belong to the category, I know women too who feel threatened by feminism.There exactly lies the biggest problem women face. 

                        Most of these women have a low self esteem and look for validation in the family they have kept together, at the cost of their crushed dreams. When another woman dares to challenge the structure, they feel intimidated and try to make her surrender instead. They find pleasure in seeing another free bird caged, wings clipped when they couldn't dare to fly themselves. It is a vicious cycle. One broken dream after another.

                  

                        I find submissive women repulsive. They suffer their whole lives and bring up men who grow up believing they can dominate any woman. It is also the reason I have no tolerance for women who put up with violence or disrespect from their family. I speak about the women who belong to the same income group or background where they can stand up for themselves and lead a respectful life. I do not have any idea about the hardships that other women might have in doing so, but I have seen brilliant examples of courage from people who have the least!  We need feminism so that we stand a chance at a better tomorrow.

                       It is a long talk. One that has multiple dimensions. Bigger problems and smaller solutions. This is a topic that cannot be handled in a single post and hence I have decided to start writing every second Monday about it inspired by Soumya's feminist Monday posts.

                       I find hope in the fact that ours is at least a generation of covert feminists. Most women don't call themselves feminists but are fighting the exact same battles as that of feminism. I think we could start with just saying "I AM A FEMINIST" 

                                          

                   

Girl Next Door

                    It was barely a month since we had moved into our new apartment. It was a newly built place in an area that was yet to see the real estate boom and since the place was a little away from the main road, it did not garner much attention. It was just the kind of peaceful location where you would like to come  home after a tiring day. Since I and my husband stayed away for work long hours, we hardly knew anyone by their names.

                    It was just one of the regular evenings; I was sitting in my balcony having a cup of tea when I saw a tempo enter the building. Since our balcony faced the main entrance of the building, I could make out someone was shifting into the building, but did not pay much attention to who it was.

                   Later that night, when my husband went downstairs to take out the trash, the night watchman was full of news about the new occupants. A couple had moved into our next door flat as tenants. As per the watchman, the wife was heavily pregnant. We wondered why someone would move and take up the task of setting up a house at this stage. From experience, I knew that watchmen were pools of unfiltered news and gave out information that even they were not sure of and did not give the couple another thought.

                  Our flat entrance was just opposite the common lift whereas the neighboring flat had its entrance towards the left which faced a wall. We could not directly see who came and went into their house even if we stood at our door. The purpose of mentioning this blind spot will become clearer in the events that unfolded later.

                  A few days later, I saw a man get into the lift and an older lady rushing out from the neighboring flat with a tiffin box in hand. I gathered this must be the pregnant lady's mother who must have come to help her out during pregnancy. When there are only 2 houses occupied in the building apart from your own, normal humans you see in the building tend to pique your interests, even for someone like me who keeps to herself most times. The older lady smiled at me but the man was stiff in the lift as the door closed after him.

                 The same evening, my husband told me that the man next door was a cab driver! I just couldn't believe it. I told him not to listen to the watchman. A cab driver moving into a building like ours seemed too far fetched, even though uber success stories were everywhere. But, the husband had proof. He had seen the man driving a yellow plated car a couple of times and informed me only after he was sure. He reasoned that since the building was away from the main road, rents were affordable and not more than 10-12 K and drivers could easily afford that much. He also told me that the older lady was the man's mother and not the pregnant lady's. Till this point, I had not seen the pregnant lady to comment anything about it.

                 A month rolled by and more people started shifting into the building. When we came back from work, we could see kids playing in the corridor, running on the stairs and making the kind of noises only kids can make. One such evening, there was a new shriek added to that. A new born baby crying next door. I thought of visiting but for some reason never did.

                                             

Image: Credit

                The next Saturday, someone rang my door bell. Opening the door, I saw a girl in three fourth track pants, loose t-shirt and hair roughly held back with a long clip. A little wheatish in complexion and on the thicker side. She had come with a box of sweets and told me that she just had a baby girl. I stood there, dumb-founded and meekly uttered "congratulations". I don't know what had shocked me more. The fact that this girl was the girl next door who delivered the baby or that she was the wife of a cab driver. I admit that I expected someone who would be dressed in a salwar or saree and not someone who would talk in English. But the next surprise came with the sweet that she gave. It was then that I first started doubting something fishy. It was a sweet with generous amounts of dry fruits and something that I had rarely had myself and would think twice before buying to distribute. This couldn't be the choice of sweet for a middle class family to distribute to whole building.

               
                 After that one visit, I hardly saw her again. Of course, she stayed next door but she never came out of the house on weekends or occasions. Some evenings I heard the baby cry and her playing with the baby but never heard a sound from her husband. It could not be said if they had visitors as it later occured to me that not just me, but no one in the whole building could see the entrance of their house. It was a long corridor and one could not say who went to which flat unless you actually saw anyone enter.

                 
                One afternoon, I got a call on my phone while I was at office. A courier on my name had arrived via India post and the postman did not agree to leave it at the security cabin. He instead knocked on the door of the next door girl. The postman handed over the phone to her. This was the first and only time I talked to her.
                "Hi, I am Kruthika, I stay in the flat next to you"
                "Hi, Kruthika, if it won't be much trouble, can you please keep the courier with you. I will collect it once I am back from office."
                "No problem. I will take it."
                "Thanks."

This was exactly what we had talked. I once again noticed how fluent she was in English, almost like a convent educated girl. I am ashamed to admit that all these months I did not even know her name. Kruthika.

              That evening when I rang her door bell, I could hear her feet fast approaching the door. She had the parcel in hand. I could hear the baby crying.

             "Thank you so much. I hope I didn't wake the baby"
             "Oh no no, she was already crying."

              She seemed in a hurry. She handed me the courier and quickly closed the door. I found it odd. When I walked back to my door and was putting in the key, I saw the lift open and her husband come out. Oh so this was the reason! I thought. Was she scared of her husband finding her talk to me? He looked at me in without expression and quickly hurried to his flat.

              Later when I repeated the entire story to my husband, he thought I was reading too much into it. I was getting too influenced by all the crime patrol I was watching! Perhaps I was, but my instinct told me that there was story that I had to dig. It was none of my business but still it was a thought that nibbled my insides.

             
              Almost a month later, when I was simply going through Facebook for the random time wasting things, I saw a girl in the "people you may know" row. Someone told me once, that if you find people in this row with whom you have no common friends then this person had been stalking you on Facebook. I don't know how true this is, but it does seem so. Because the girl in this picture was none other than Kruthika with a name of "Shweta". We had no mutual friends. The profile picture looked a little old. She was thinner and little more dusky back then. She had studied in one of the premier institutes of Bangalore in the heart of the city. There were only a few photos that I could see on her timeline as I was not her friend but from what I saw, she did look from an affluent family. My suspicions proved right. This girl was from well to do background, convent educated but had somehow landed here and mostly under a fake name. I went through her profile some more, searching her friends to see if her husband was there. But, no clue. So was Kruthika actually someone called Shweta or did she change her name post marriage? Why did she marry a driver? Were her parents against the marriage or had they fallen on hard times?  Was her husband keeping her happy or was she being a victim of domestic abuse?

           
             Months rolled by and slowly I stopped thinking of her.

         
             On a cold winter evening, I returned home late after sitting in the cab for 4 gruelling hours in the traffic. I just wanted to sleep and could think of nothing else. There was a commotion in the building when I entered. The kids were not playing outside and people crowded our wing. The stairs were eerily silent but I could hear hushed voices, cries and screaming. When I reached my floor, my heart skipped a beat. There were people standing in front of my door. My house door was open and people were scanning my face like I was some alien. Color flushed back into my face when I saw my husband among the people. He quickly pulled me inside and whispered
             "There has been a murder in the next flat. You stay inside"

             It felt like time had stopped. My brain registered this, one word at a time. Murder.in.the.next.flat. Kruthika.Shweta.Her husband.His mother.The baby. Who?

             Before I could ask, he had rushed out again. The police jeep arrived at the location talking in a language I failed to understand. Hours passed in the confusion. No one knew whom to contact. The house owner was abroad. No one in the building knew anything personal about Kruthika or her husband. Kruthika and her husband were found murdered in the house. The baby was nowhere to be seen. The police ransacked the house for any clue about them. By midnight they had found documents hidden in the loft and contacted dozens of people. Most people they called from Kruthika's husband's phone were customers who had hired his cab. Kruthika's call records showed only a couple of calls which were unanswered. Call records were asked from phone companies. From the documents, cops found their name as Shweta Gowda and Gopal Shekhar. Whole night the neighbors stood guard. It was like a vigil for the dead people whom we all saw but never knew. Someone suggested searching the name on facebook. Oh Facebook! Why did it not strike me before. I had seen people with her on facebook. Anyway the cops did explore her profile and found what they were looking for.

             By next morning, we all knew their story when Gopal's friend was identified.

Shweta and Gopal were both from affluent families but different caste and community. Gopal was an adopted son of wealthy businessman whereas Shweta was the eldest daughter of landowner and politician. Both had fallen in love and invited the wrath of their families. Shweta had been locked in the house for months before she had secretly eloped with Gopal. Shweta's father had resolved to kill Gopal for the dishonour he had brought into their family while Gopal's father had disowned him from his house and property. Having no financial support and fearing for their life, Gopal and Shweta stayed in a Tumkur village for 6 months. But cash was running short and Shweta had gotten pregnant. Gopal had a nanny who was very close to him and considered him her son. She came to help Shweta with her delivery. With the help of the friend, Gopal had taken the risk of setting up home in our area till Shweta delivered since it was quite far from the city centre. Since Gopal had not been very bright with studies, he could not get a job very quickly and again his friend managed for the cab which he drove to sustain. He only took rides near our area or outside the city limits. Never did he venture into his old neighborhood. He worked night shifts and also helped his friend with hotel business. Slowly their life was looking up.

               Gopal was cautious still of the fury of his father in law. He was powerful and did not mind twisting the law. Gopal did not like Shweta talking to people and nor did he talk to anyone apart from his trusted friend. He was scared of betrayal. Her father was a well connected man and Gopal worried he might get wind of their whereabouts and make true of his promise to get them separated.

               Gopal and his friend had taken a heavy loan for setting up a new hotel business in Mysore. Gopal and Shweta were all set to start a new life in Mysore and had even started looking for a new place to live in the new city. Perhaps the new found happiness had made them a little reckless. Someone must have spotted them and informed her father. That was all that was known. No one ever saw who exactly came to their house. No one heard a sound. Gopal and Shweta were shot with what is assumed to be a silent gun. Their bodies were found in the hall and was discovered by the watchman when he went to put on the lights in the corridor and found their door wide open.

               The CCTV was scanned multiple times, everyone in the building questioned endlessly, the watchmen grilled day in and day out but there was no hint. The money lender who gave loan for Gopal's business was also questions but Shweta's father remains to be prime suspect but there has been nothing to put him behind the bars.

                Gopal's nanny and Shweta's baby were not traced by the police. There are rumours that the nanny escaped with the baby. I hope that is true.

                I still hear the cries of the baby when I am home alone. It rings in my ear and I wonder where the baby is and how she is managing without Shweta. Or Kruthika as I knew her. The girl next door.

                                 

                                                          Image: Credit