Her dad, a strong-willed man, had peculiar notions about men’s superiority over women. He always ordered her mom, even when requests would have been more appropriate. Her mom willingly subjected herself to his taunts and abuse. Her dad and Sita were having tea together.
Sita asked, “Dad, I have a question. “
He said, “Shoot your question,” sipping his tea.
“Do you believe men are entitled to treat their wives as chattel? Can
they order them about as if they are paid slaves? Can they assume that wives
have no say in all household matters and only husbands have the right to
decide?” asked Sita.
Tell me, Sita, what is on the back of your mind? What prompted you to
ask this question?” he asked.
“Nothing in particular. It is just to know your views, she replied.
He slowly said in a measured tone, “I strongly believe that women will
have to be kept under a tight leash. Give them an inch, and they will take a
mile. As an earning member who keeps the hearth burning, the husband has the
right to see that things are done as per his wishes. He may have to be
occasionally strict if necessary to maintain discipline and compliance with his
wishes. Men give them food, clothing, shelter and children for the work they
do. What else do they need?”
Aghast though, Sita was not surprised at his boorish attitude, knowing
well how he had been treating her mom all these years. She hated him for a while
for his rude response and brashness, but kept quiet, unaware of how to react.
He asked her, “I am not convinced that you asked this question
casually. Tell me what impelled you to ask?” Sita could not control her tears
when she thought of her poor mom and started sobbing.
“Sita, pray tell me without crying what is troubling you.”
“You married me to Hari, telling me he came from a cultured family of
decent people. Life has been hell for me from day one of marriage. Not a day
passed without his insulting and beating me often in the presence of his
parents and siblings. Even when I am sick, no one comes to help me in the kitchen.
No one asks me whether I am alright. He neither trusts me nor gives me money
even for buying vegetables. I am not allowed to express any opinion, even on
matters concerning my children. I do not want to live there anymore. I am
willing to work and take care of my kids. I do not want to stay in a place
where I am not respected or treated equally with dignity,” a sobbing Sita gave
vent to her suffering.
He lost his arrogant demeanour, and his eyes became misty.” Why didn’t
you tell me all these years? I would have taught that brat a lesson or two.”
“How could I when you are yourself no better than Hari? What kind of
support could I expect to get from you? Sita asked
Her dad broke down. “I have been a fool all along. I will change myself
from today. This is a promise, Sita. Let us go now to Hari’s place and talk to
him before deciding our next step. I cannot forgive a man for treating his wife
so miserably.”
The doorbell rang just then. Dad rushed to open. There were the beaming
Hari and the children in all smiles, with a complaint, “Nana, Mom refused to
come with us to Disneyland, telling us she had to be with you. She will do only what she wishes. She missed a lot
of fun today.” With a foolish grin, my dad looked askance at Sita.
“Extremely sorry, my dad, for making up this story. Hari is a doting
husband and, like the genii in Aladdin’s lamp, is ever ready to carry out my
smallest wishes,” proudly said Sita, even as she added, "Do remember you have made a promise."
