Sunday, September 23, 2001		Life Ties

ON a bored afternoon, Savita was flipping through the various television channels. As her distracted mind tried to focus on inane song sequences and shots of melodramatic Bollywood potboilers, her attention was caught by Julia Roberts on HBO. The movie ,as the credit line appeared, was Sleeping with the Enemy. She recalled the Hindi remake, Agnisakshi which had triggered a passionate debate on the subject of obsessive love. As images flashed past the screen and she found herself getting absorbed in the unfolding of the story, she felt her muscles getting taut and her mouth becoming dry.

A woman on the run not from an arch-enemy but from a husband who professed his ‘undying’ love for her. He wanted to cast her in a mould of his making so that they could spend a lifetime of ‘loverly’ bliss, shielded from prying eyes. He was treating her as his dearest ‘possession’; one who breathed, smiled, danced, mimicked, cried on the snapping of his fingers; whom he could flaunt, humour, pamper, beat, intimidate and force into doing what he, the Lord and Master wanted. All this, in the name of love.

Savita watched the movie with shocked fascination. It was so close to her own story. Didn’t Karan say the same things ? Wasn’t she always submitting to his diktat, in the name of love ? Had she not faithfully and ‘lovingly’ blended her persona completely with his ? The answer to all these questions was an instant and unwavering ‘yes’, yet, it was an admission which did not make her feel ecstatic. Rather, it filled her with an immense sense of dread. Before doubts could entangle and make her question her existence as Mrs Karan Kapoor, she put a brake on her reasoning mind and went back to watching the film.

The movie was disturbing since it had a parallel to her own married life.But the end offered hope. Julia manages to free herself from the vicious clutches of her demonic husband. She finds true love in a dramatics teacher who is gentle, caring and, most of all, who respects her decisions.

As the screen blanked out, Savita found herself fantasising of a life without Karan. Was that really possible ? Would she be able to wear what she wanted, meet people she liked, talk what she felt strongly about, go to places she fancied ? No, of course not, her mind panicked. She didn’t have a life other than the one Karan had mapped out for her. He had made that clear from day one. Hadn’t he ordered her to remove all her jewellery and instructed her to give away her box of foreign cosmetics. He liked simplicity and she must religiously adhere to what was her dharma, he felt.

Savita unquestioningly cast herself in the image he had of her. She stopped wearing sleeveless kurtas, gave away her trousers, skirts and nighties, stopped using kohl and lipstick. Quite an avid reader, she had to seek his approval before picking up her quota of magazines and books. Cosmopolitan and film magazines were on his ‘strictly no’ list since he didn’t want ‘his pure virginal princess’ to get polluted’.

She steered clear from friends and refrained from cultivating new alliances. The day a chirpy neighbour dropped by she got paranoid. What if Karan walked in ? What would he accuse her of ? As if on cue, Karan walked in. Before he could barrage her with questions, Savita got into a long-winded explanation, "remember this is our neighbour we met at the mutton shop ? She just dropped by. I did not call her. She wanted to share some recipes with me but I have told her we don’t need them since we have cooks who take care of the entire kitchen". The lady in question could sense the panic in Savita’s gibberish and beat a hasty retreat. Savita’s isolation was complete. She was ‘allowed’ to meet her mother once a month. The driver dropped her, sat at a discreet distance in the living room till the mandatory hour was over and then reported the ‘meeting’ to Sirjee.

For Savita to lead a quiet, programmed life was not difficult. She was a timid girl who needed a strong male figure. Earlier, it was her father and after his death her brother who shielded her. But there was a difference. Their protection was gentle, stemming from concern and love whereas Karan’s love was ‘passionately violent’. He would shake her violently till her bones rattled; push her against the wall; pin her on the floor and crush her with his body weight; twist her wrists in a bout of anger or bite into her shoulders. As soon as she succumbed and he calmed down, he would get into ‘love overdrive’ – taking her out for dinner, buying her expensive gifts and playing the piano for her. He rarely saw that she was trembling like a leaf or was quiet as a mouse.

He did not give her visible scars like a black eye or a broken bone but by terrorising her into submission, he scarred her psyche. This was something that she didn’t realise, till she saw the movie and began questioning herself as to whether all she was tolerating was indeed alright in the name of love ? The movie triggered a lot of questions in her mind. Empathising with the central character, she was forced to be honest with herself. Was she happy ? Is this what she wanted ? Was all that Karan did and demand really an expression of love ? Were other women too expected to go through this in the name of marriage ? Was there a way out ? For the first time, she forced herself to think and not dismiss these questions without fear gripping her insides. Another realisation that came was that she did not have to go through a life which he had patterned for her. She could make an alteration or give it a 360-degree turnaround.

Savita rung up a forgotten cousin, whom she had studiously avoided. Soon after her marriage, he had made a social call and hadn’t liked what he saw. He could see the hunted look in her eyes, the quivering in her voice, the trembling of the hands and the defeated stoop of her shoulders. He had seen how her body language changed and she came alive the moment Karan stepped out of the room. He hadn’t stayed too long since he could feel that both of them were uncomfortable while he was around. Though the following day he had called her up and told her that she had to only call and he would be there.

Just as she was mentally gearing up to do that, her eyes fell on a newspaper interview of Namita Gokhale, her favourite Indian author. who was talking of her wonderful relationship with her husband.He did not allow her to use cosmetics. And when he died, Namita without feeling guilty, went and bought dozens of bottles and kits of make up. Her daughters wondered and so did her friends, but for Namita this was not an act of betrayal. While he was alive, she had refrained from using them because to her it did not really matter and neither did it come between what she shared with him but once he was no more she had to go and do what she had been denied, if only to experience the resultant feeling of freedom. Savita too was suddenly hungering for a taste of freedom. How she was going to do it, she did not know. She did not want to act in haste and repent at leisure. But yes, she was certain that this was not the existence she wanted for herself. Having realised that, she knew she would be able to find a way out. Either by learning to say no and asserting herself or by opting out altogether. Either way, it was going to be a tough battle and one she was willing to fight. Savita saw that she had a choice, an option, if only she was willing to exercise it.

She could get out of a marriage which was certainly not based on love but on mindless bullying. Whims and fancies of one’s partner is tolerable, but if the person forces you to change yourself beyond recognition, makes you do things which thwart your sense of identity and which have no regard for your own self-esteem and happiness could not possibly be the love on which rests the solid foundation of marriage.