We all have been listening about domestic violence in India a lot. Even I have been listening about it, reading about it, but never really knew that it may be practiced within my family as well. This is a story from the eyes of a woman, who is a prey of one of the dreadful crimes against women.
“I love you, baby!”, He said around half an hour later. I was so scared that my fear forced me to smile on his remark. I got up and got back to work. I was a home maker, but for a woman like me, the better word would be house-maid who was regularly being exploited, slanged and beat by my husband. It was a love marriage. I loved him. I still love him, maybe!
Love marriages, and specially inter-caste marriages are a very big issue in India. The trend over here is that you parents select the guy you should marry, that too within your community, and parents generally look for a guy with a very good family. My husband did not have a family. He was totally separated by his family and relatives, and so he was not answerable to anyone, not responsible to anyone. Today it has been six years of marriage, and for the world, we are a happily married couple. When I met him for the first time, I was totally attracted towards his charm and grace. He was a gentleman, who very well knew how to treat a woman! I had never been treated like the way he treated me, in such a lovely, charming and sophisticated manner. I was a girl who had always been into studies, and family. Making a boyfriend was out of question for a girl like me. But this guy had something, something which could attract any girl. When I told my parents about him, it was a clear “No!” from them. They tried to scold me, explained me, requested me, and asked me not to marry that person, but at the end, as it comes to being parents, they agreed.
For around two years, everything was fine, actually beautiful, but after that things started getting out of hand. I hold a degree of Ph.D in microbiology, but I refused all the job offers, because he did not want his “princess” to work. His idea was that he’s going to earn and I’m going to spend, but who knew that his real idea was something so dreadful. Now that I know him so well, I understand that he was s possessive that he did not want me to meet anyone. He wanted to confine me in a place and treat me like a slave, and the worst part being I let him treat me like one. He was drunk when he had beat me for the first time- 22 August 2011, and it was my birthday. His first step towards domestic violence was a slap. And my first step towards being a prey of the same was silence…
“I asked you not to get out of the house, didn’t I?” I started shivering when I heard his high pitch.
“I had to buy food for the baby.” My voice shivered.
The next thing I realised was him dragging me by my hair and banging me to the table. My head started bleeding, my child started crying, and my so called husband, grabbed another bottle of vodka. I sat right there crying, and made my child sleep after some time. At mid-night he called me in the bedroom and asked me draw the curtains, and as I did, he grabbed my arm and pulled me to the bed. He was partially drunk. At this point of time of my life, I was so scared that I thought before breathing on my husband’s face as well, I was so scared that I had to force myself to smile when he did, and I was so scared that I couldn’t meet his eyes when he looked at me. He opened the knot of my Salwar, and put his finger in. It was felt as if it was a mistake for me to take birth, it was a mistake to be born as a female. I attempted to say a “No.” but fear caught hold of me. And then I was raped, four times, by my own husband, my own love. Then say rape is the most dreadful crime against woman. I refute. Marital rape is the most heinous crime against woman, and the Indian Legal System, doesn’t even look at it as a crime. Getting raped by your own man, and waking up in the morning as if everything is normal and decent, cooking for him, taking care of his child, washing his clothes, everything has to be done as if, HE is you husband, when he’s just another animal from the wild.
If I speak it to my family members, they won’t understand. If I speak it to the friends, they’ll say your parents asked you not to marry him, and if I speak it to the society, they’ll look at me as if I’m a criminal.
I want to speak, but to who will understand me? I want leave, to whom will I go? I want justice, but what proof do I have?