Sunday, November 12, 2000		Lead Article

Perhaps, the women have never had it so good and men, so bad. Economic freedom has set the imagination of the women free, and 'your-money-is-our-money, but my-money-is-mine-alone', appears to have become the unspoken domestic law. Though no longer allowed to go around with a swollen pride of being a provider, man is definitely expected to play his traditional role to the hilt. Left with little choice, he plods on, hopelessly trapped in the time warp of traditional expectations, almost pathetically divested of all the usual perks and privileges. All this, while his woman is not just marching on ahead to total freedom, but is also in retreat from all responsibility, writes Rana Nayar

But that was in another century, and, of course, in an altogether different cultural context. Nearer home, Indian Nora is ready to strike almost as soon as she gets a chance. Regardless of a betrayal, real or imaginary, she appears hell bent upon re-writing Ibsen's script. No longer a suffering heroine, she would much rather persecute her man than rush into divorce or separation or wait for 'eight years' to discover the real or not-so-real a cause of her misery. It's as though waiting is not so much her destiny; now it's that of her man.

Suffering, too, is now his fate, for she appears to have developed resistance to all situations, soapy or syrupy. When it's not ingenuity, it's endurance, but she appears to have plentiful of both to help her sail through. Enough to bail her out of every conceivable marital situation; good, bad, better or worse. The only thing she doesn't quite believe in giving any chance, whatever, is, yes, her marriage or her man, in that order, perhaps. It's as though she doesn't need a man; in her eyes, man having become a persona non grata; a non-existent entity, a disposable superfluity or a deadwood.

Not the ravings of a half-crazed, a bitter gourd-like, offshore husband, such thoughts were occasioned by a chance meeting with an old friend. Haggard and weary, he was rasping for breath. Solicitous enquiries about his health nearly brought tears into his expressionless eyes. "She's left me. And now simply refuses to live with me," he said, nearly choking over his tears. Of their temporary separation, I did know, but certainly not of how and when it had become irrevocable.

Without much prodding, he continued, "You know, she left me when I was without a job. She just went to live with her parents, but never returned. Even when we were living together, she expected me to run the house. Would you believe, to this day, I don't know what her salary is?" Though he was sharing his feelings the first time ever, his wife had disclosed how he just wasn't the kind to own up responsibility for her and the children.

On being confronted with the charge, he turned reflective, "Look, responsibility is always a two-way process, never one-sided. Do you know that my own wedded wife broke into 'our house' in my absence and took all the things away? Of course, whatever she carried was hers. But is that what you call responsibility?" As I wrestled with the anguish behind his words, he repeated, "You don't know, she's gone bonkers. She really has." After this, he simply shuffled away, dragging his feet along. His half-bent back suggested that he was almost as serious about saving his decade-old marriage as he was helpless.

Was it the lack of money or something else that had pressed the trigger? Perhaps, the aspirations had hit through the roof, or the expectations had nose-dived without a warning. A few days later, his buoyant wife recounted how she had spent over three lakhs on renovating the only room she had in her parents' house. Very proudly, she announced that her parents had gifted her a car, too.

I wondered if he was talking about the very same car when he had said, "You know, I wasn't ever allowed to drive it. I always sat next to her while she drove. And often when people wondered why I didn't drive, I had to say, I didn't know driving." In a strange reversal of situation, hardly comic, it was as if the entire burden of keeping up appearances or the façade of social respectability, too, now lies with men. So the chickens were finally coming home to roost!

For those who think that a single swallow doesn't make a summer, here's another one beating 'his' wings helplessly in the cage, which isn't even golden. A young student develops a liaison with a married woman living with her parents in his downtown neighbourhood. Much against his will, he is forced to marry her, despite the fact that she is a mother of two and he, jobless. Desirous of improving his career prospects, he wants to continue with his studies, but she simply refuses to understand his need or sympathise with it. She feels that he goes to college, either to escape from her or to be with other 'girls'. As if this is not enough, she often breaks into his hostel room and creates a scene, humiliating him in public. Her tyrannical ways become more and more ingenuous, but he continues to suffer simply because he feels responsible for her. Convinced that it's an irretrievable situation, he would much rather work to improve his or her life than opt out of it.

Yes, perhaps his only fault is that he's not a cad. Had he been one, he probably wouldn't have had to suffer in silence. The worst part is that all this and much more is happening only to perfectly decent, responsible men, who believe neither in torturing women nor in brutalising them. Decency is being penalised, as though it's not so much of an asset as a liability. Regardless of who the victim is, almost always the social opinion appears to be ranged against men. "It's the woman who manages to get all the sympathy," is how my friend had put it, rather cryptically. "People are so eager to believe the worst about men. Not many people pause to think that being human, they, too, could suffer. " That's how another had voiced his anguish.

Of course, an apparently hostile societal opinion does make it extremely difficult for the suffering men to ride their personal storms. For some, it's sheer loneliness of having to go it alone, while for others, pain of not being able to order their emotional lives is simply too much to bear. "I used to spend a lot of time with the children in the evenings. Now I just don't feel like returning home," is how a 'deserted husband' put it. Another confided, "The common friends just keep away as half the time they are unable to determine their attitude. As for the relatives, it's never anything more than a grand spectacle."

Seemingly hostile societal opinion is only compounded by the ominous prospect of discriminatory even antagonistic laws looming overhead. "Even when my wife took away everything, my lawyer friend simply advised me to shut up and sit tight. 'She has law on her side,' he said. 'If you lodge a complaint, it'll backfire. First, you'll be booked under anti-dowry laws and as and when divorce comes through, you'll be saddled with a hefty alimony." Most of the men expressed their reservations about seeking legal redress. Though in each case, their reasons vastly differed, ranging from the fear of reprisal to the sheer ennui of having to fight it out in the courts and even open admission about basic inability to cope with the emotional strain consequent upon it. "Why should I go in for legal redress? I don't want to break up my family. Besides, I have no intentions of settling down again." It's as though they have reconciled to their state of captivity, almost a variant of Stockholm Syndrome has them in its vice-like grip.

Perhaps, the women have never had it so good and men, so bad. Economic freedom has set the imagination of the women free, and 'your-money-is-our-money, but my-money-is-mine-alone' appears to have become the unspoken domestic law. Though no longer allowed to go around with a swollen pride of being a provider, man is definitely expected to play his traditional role to the hilt. Left with little choice, he plods on, hopelessly trapped in the time warp of traditional expectations, almost pathetically divested of all the usual perks and privileges. All this, while his woman is not just marching on ahead to total freedom, but is also in retreat from all responsibility.

No, the retreat is not from the traditional role of a housewife or a cook, which has long been passé, anyway. Rather, the retreat is from the principle of equal partnership, from the basic values of sharing and caring. Such a dispensation is, indeed, ironic as the breakdown of joint family system was only expected to strengthen partnerships, not weaken them. Everything from earning to teaching children or paying bills, cooking and cleaning is often considered his prerogative, his job. And when it isn't his, perhaps, it's that of some dark devil!

For the 'new vengeful woman,' sharing and caring are obsolete and so is the principle of division of labour. Content to dismiss it all with a casual flutter of her painted eyelashes, she prefers to treat such values with the same obsolescence with which she had once treated the chores of looking after the house, husband or children.

The poet was right when he said, 'the times are really a changing.' Man's ego might be in tatters, yet holding on to its vestiges, he continues to face the world with a wan smile. Perhaps, the business of living has its own compelling logic. Whatever it is, the ubiquitous crown has most certainly tumbled. And now, it lies besmeared with dust, a sad and painful reminder of the past glory.

Hounded and hunted, one-time 'king' is now on the run. From an all-powerful monarch, he's been reduced to a hapless clown or a fugitive, who is ready to break into a tango when he's not busy hiding in the forest.