Sunday, March 4, 2001		Life Ties

THE first thing Sarita saw in Venu was his aristocratic charm and quiet dignity. Strikingly handsome in uniform he seemed gentle yet in control. He fitted in with all her practical expectations and romantic illusions – a person she could surrender herself completely to. For 15 years she had worn the pants in the house assuming charge when her father had died, looking after an ailing mother and six siblings. At 20 she had felt like an old maid. There were suitors, most of whom politely backed off seeing her unwavering commitment to the family. This was something she made clear in no uncertain terms. Those were conventional times. A headstrong bahu spelt trouble and one with pre-conditions double trouble.

Venu had just returned after spending five years in Europe and was looking for a spouse who could be a companion and soul mate not just a pretty showpiece. He took to Sarita instantly. They made a dashing couple. Her awe turned to unbridled passion and unwavering loyalty, unfailingly standing the test of time. Together they charted many unknown terrains, learning from each other as they went through a whirlwind two decades. As a couple they were ahead of their times. Their personal views and political opinions were liberal and progressive. They decided to have just one child since the house was in any case full of Sarita’s brood. Over the years they got each one married and settled. They now looked forward to a future where they could revert to Venu’s ancestral land, build a dream cottage in the woods, do organic farming and grow old together. They sent Srinivas, their son to UK to study law.

Having seen a turbulent childhood, Sarita was paranoid about her dream bubble going bust. Her insecurity got aggravated after Srinivas left. Her emotional dependence on Venu increased. His attempts at allaying her fears didn’t allay her insecurities. Her eerie premonitions proved prophetic. Venu suffered a severe heart attack and before he could be rushed to the hospital he died. His last words to Sarita were: "Sorry, I couldn’t fulfill all my promises."

For someone who neither drank nor smoked, who was fit as a fiddle, religiously walking 6 km a day, never reporting sick the heart attack was a mystery. Sarita was in a daze. The fact that he was never going to return had still not registered. Zombie-like, she sat next to his body waiting for their son. Srinivas, like his father, came and took charge. His mother was put under sedition and care. He attended to the last rites, paper work, property matters and planned her movement to their ancestral home. He extended his leave from college and helped his mother accept the tragedy and come to terms with her grief. During this time he did a lot of thinking. He told her that he was seriously considering the option of cutting short his education and returning home to be with her. She would have nothing of it. Venu and she had wanted to see him a barrister and he had to go back. A month after his father’s passing away, on Sarita’s insistence he left.

It is said that "sorrows when they come, they come not alone but in battalions" and the worst possible nightmare unfolded itself. The taxi which was taking Srinivas from the London airport to his residential college met with a freak accident. Sarita was informed over phone. She rushed to be with him. Battling his multiple injuries for a week, he breathed his last on a cold wintry morning. Within 40 days she gad lost both husband and son.

The tears wouldn’t stop. She withered and lost the will to live. Twice she attempted suicide. Her siblings were at their wits end. They knew that she couldn’t be left alone. Sarita was adamant. She wanted to be in her own house. She was unwilling to share her grief and had withdrawn from the world around her.

The brothers, sisters and their spouses worked out an arrangement amongst themselves and took turns in being with her. Since they were all based in the cities it was logistically difficult but they managed. Sarita gradually began to revert to her old pattern of living, meeting people, shopping for provisions, making conversation, taking interest in the house, cooking and even in her personal appearance. The changes were minor but there was a ray of hope.

At no time did her siblings push her into seeing how she was disrupting their family lives. If the wife of a brother spent a month with her they were obviously inconvenienced but they had taken this up as a mission. They tried cheering her up, taking turns in calling her up every evening, writing long letters, sending books and trying to spend as much time with her as was possible. Occasions were searched for – birthdays, wedding anniversaries, festivals and most importantly the birth and death anniversaries of Venu and Srinivas. They took great pains in not just expressing their love and concern for her but told her that they understood her grief and pain.

Fortunately money was not an issue. Sarita was a wealthy woman and her brothers/sisters too were well settled.

It took her two years to come to terms with the realities in her life. Strong and resilient, she knew the time had come to take charge. She took another year to build a façade around herself and to wear the mask her loved ones expected of her. She succeeded in mastering the art of appearing calm and composed since she knew that unless she appeared in physical and emotional control they would not be able to move on with their lives. There was no way she could cast aside her grief, but she had to take hold of her life and assume charge. She urged them to leave her because unless they did she would never be able to stand up and walk without crutches.

She took to social work, became President of a Ladies Club, took over the administration of an old age home, brought about a qualitative difference to its functioning and gradually formed an NGO of her own. The next few years saw her becoming powerful and influential. Not only did her NGO bag prestigious World Bank projects but she too found herself being pushed into the limelight. She was invited to attend international seminars, her village became a model case study and funds poured in. Being a woman and a headstrong one at that, she had made her share of enemies. There were dissidents at the local and regional level who wanted a chunk of the pie and not finding that happening had begun to spin vicious rumours about her.

Sarita was a good-looking 50-year-old woman.

Suddenly she found herself at the centre of malicious gossip. Her name was linked to the local MLA, district attorney, her foreign benefactors and things continued to get murkier. Fed up and humiliated, she decided to quit. Her family had been calling her up and she felt guilty putting them through the embarrassment of being linked to a woman with ‘dubious character’ more so since they had impressionable children.

The family decided to meet. They were as worried as she was. Surprisingly, they expressed their solidarity not in sympathising but by strengthening her will power to fight the injustice. They told her that they and the kids were proud of her were not going to let her step down.

They believed in her and would take take up the fight jointly and more vocally at whatever level and forum it was needed. Being a widow and woman didn’t give anyone the right to cast aspersions on her character and force her to withdraw to a lifetime of mourning.