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How the modern Indian educated woman, who is visibly independent on all other fronts, succumbs to domestic violence in the confines of her house.
I am a hard nut to crack. I believed it when my husband got admitted in the hospital with a laceration in his skull, when a head-butt failed to open my skull, but split open his scalp instead. It would have been easier for him to use his fist, had it not been caught by me in time. Yes the right timing, it has its boons.
I coaxed him – he said. And I believe him. I have always believed him. He is one of those people who can convince anyone, with the right play of words, that the scorching yellow Sun is actually a Full Moon. And it is very easy to turn a believer out of me who is so miserably in love with him. Yes, love can be that blind.
I believed him twelve years back when he had made me see that my promising bank career will deprive us of the fruits of a happy married life. I believed him the other day when he explained to me that my face is sagging hopelessly and would look ugly if I tie my hair high.
So today I am in the ward, standing awkwardly with a little stoop so that I can hear him properly as he is lying on bed with his soft head bandaged in soft cotton wool, restricting the movement of his jaw to the desired length. Listening patiently to his accusations that I screwed up his life, his career, his family—I am thinking of the memory of that ‘once-upon-a-time-hug’ that had drowned me once in unspeakable emotions.
I catch the eye of a man sitting five-beds apart. I am sure he must be thinking how lovable we are, a wife fretting over her husband with concern and husband cooling her down. Ha! I bet next he is going to accuse his wife for the lack of required emotions.
Strangely I am not angry with him. I am finding some kind of a satisfaction in the fact that he hit me. May be, this will make him soften towards me, may be it will help me concentrate on one issue and forget about other petty complaints. In fact, I am feeling guilty that my skull was so hard that it cracked his head.
My fingers moved reflexively to caress the egg on the left side of my head, and I praised myself for lifting my head at the right time – otherwise, my poor cheekbone would have taken the impact and the injury marks would have spilled the beans.
Thank god, our secret is safe in my skull, under the covers of my shabby hair. He saw me smile and scorned with loathe, ‘I know you are enjoying this. This was your game plan from the beginning, to cripple me and ruin my career’. I took a deep breath and smiled again.
Reading this if you are thinking that I am some poor, uneducated Indian wife, then I must tell you, in ‘daylight’ I am a different person altogether. I write passionately about Women’s Rights – hold debates over importance of gender equality – participate in torch-light processions at India Gate – counsel my maid on women empowerment when her alcoholic husband poofs up her salary.
I am a highly educated woman, earning a handsome salary and holding a good position in the outside world. I am a modern woman, who is well aware of her surroundings, well aware of her capabilities and well aware of the length of the rope to which she is tethered.
Through this diary-entry (expressed through fictitious characters but real life stories) I am trying to highlight:
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Image Source: flickr
Vartika Sharma Lekhak is a published author based in India who enjoys writing on social issues, travel tales and short stories. She is an alumnus of JNU and currently studying law at Symbiosis Law School, read more...
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UP Boards Topper Prachi Nigam was trolled on social media for her facial hair; our obsession with appearance is harsh on young minds.
Prachi Nigam’s photo has been doing the rounds on social media for the right reasons. Well, scratch that- I wish the above statement were true. This 15-year-old girl should ideally be revelling in her spectacular achievement of scoring a whopping 98.05% and topping her tenth-grade boards. But oddly enough, along with her marks, it’s something else that garners more attention – her facial hair.
While the trolls are driving themselves giddy by mocking this girl who hasn’t even completed her school yet, the ones who are taking her side are going one step ahead – they are sharing her photoshopped pictures, sans the facial hair, looking nothing less than a celebrity with captions saying – “Prachi Nigam, ten years later”.
Doctors have already diagnosed her with PCOD in their comments, based on photographic evidence. While we have names for people shamed for their weight – body shaming, for their skin colour- racism, for their age- age shaming, for being a female- sexism, this category of shaming where one faces criticism for their appearance has no name. With that, it also has zero shame attached to it.
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