She is my neighbour. May be a year elder to me or almost my age.
Let's put it this way-- in a city like Delhi where there is no concept of 'padosi' who says Namaste to you daily or keeps a tab on your health and how the kids are doing at school, this neighbour was indeed full of warmth and affection for me.
It began with a bowl of chicken curry she had made one day which she wanted me to taste. Then it was Pav Bhaaji on another day.
Her culinary skills were too good! I didn't have to order anything or rely on insipid food made by domestic maid every time she would send across these delicacies made at home.
Our camaraderie soon led to us gossiping and complaining about one domestic maid who used to work at my place as well as hers.
Everytime didi won't come for work, we would go on a rant about maids and how life is still difficult even in their presence.
Then one day, she complained about her husband being stingy so much so that it was difficult to manage household expenses.
'I want to start my own thing of sending tiffins to students nearby', she once told me.
I encouraged her and even pitched in with a suggestion that I will ask around at workplace if someone is looking for home-cooked food on a daily basis.
There was an aspiration in her to work, a desire to have a separate identity apart from being someone's wife and mother of two kids.
She used to work at a beauty parlour before marriage and had been a housewife for the last 7-8 years.
Almost a week after she shared her idea about starting tiffin service, I bumped into her again while I was on my way back to home from office.
With a sullen look, she informed me that her husband had trashed the idea.
It was an awkward moment because for the first time she had opened up about her marital life which was undergoing a turbulent phase.
I didn't know how to react initially and told her to negotiate with husband later when tempers have cooled down a bit. She nodded in agreement. I also told her to think again about tiffin services as it may not be profitable all the time given that vegetables might be costly and students/office goers may turn out to be choosy customers. She got the cue and said that she will think about it again.
Few weeks later, I got a call from her while I was in office. 'Are you back from work?' she asked, her tone sounding the usual way. It was a busy day due to unpredictable news cycle and I hung up very quickly after telling her that I will see her after wrapping up work. As soon as I entered her drawing room, it looked like anything but a normal household. A bunch of plastic flowers was strewn across the room, it seemed as if a hurricane just went past this place.
Her husband sat at one corner with a grumpy look, she huddled in another corner, anger writ large on her face. 'Aap meri kahin naukri lagwa dijiye (help me in getting a job)', she urged as soon as our eyes met for the first time in midst of the tension inside.
It took me a few minutes to understand that I had been called upon as an arbitrator to negotiate between two parties, a husband and wife in this case. With few statements urging both of them to resolve differences either on their own or with the help of a counselor, I decided to leave, feeling very uncomfortable being in midst of this unprecedented situation.
Remember the courtroom scene from the 1979 legal drama, 'Kramer vs Kramer', starring Meryl Streep? Separation by legal processes can be painful and heart-wrenching as every single piece of information one may know about his or her spouse is out there, it's mutual 'washing of dirty laundry in public' just to part ways on your own terms and conditions.
Thinking about my neighbour and her struggle with marriage as an institution, which she believed to be a sacrosanct one but had turned out to be otherwise, I really thought if she was still ready to step out of it.
I decided to keep mum instead of pushing her and we switched back to discussing about usual mundane stuff.
Some months later, as I was about to doze off at around 11 pm, I heard a thud sound very close to the wall of my bedroom. Her house was close by and apprehension of another violent fight between the couple forced me to step out yet again.
I was joined by two other female neighbours as well who had also heard the sound.
Once again as we stepped inside her drawing room, table laid upside down, a crack on the wall-mounted TV confirmed that it had also suffered damage. Her husband again sat in one corner with a grump look, she huddled in another corner, anger writ large on her face.
This time even the three of us failed in our peace-making efforts as my neighbour-cum-friend broke down into loud sobs, screaming how unjustly she had been treated by her husband. Unable to pacify her at her home, I persuaded her to come over to my place for sometime.
A cup of tea soothed her nerves as she began narrating horror tales of how her husband had once pulled her by her hair when she was late one day even as dozens of utensils remained uncleaned.
My sympathy for her, until this moment, had turned into a diabolical rage which wanted to punch her husband really hard. I, anyways, had stopped respecting the man sometime ago.
The two other female neighbours, who had also settled down at my place, in an effort to calm down the situation, also told her to muster the courage and release herself from the pangs of such an abusive and violent marriage. She nodded even as we explained her the steps to be taken for filing a divorce, jobs she could take up and extra help we can get from activists who are working with such victims.
A week passed. We were waiting for a reaction from her side so that we could spring into action at our end. NOTHING HAPPENED!
One evening as I had just returned from office, she called asking if I can lend my remote for TataSky set-top box to her for few hours. I am anyways not a fan of watching television after work so I readily agreed.
Days after the fight, her husband had bought a new TV and the remote which was damaged in the last brawl, was needed to check if the TV was functioning fine.
As I stepped into her drawing room for the Nth time, it seemed like any other typical middle class drawing room, everything seemed to be in its place.
'He had broken the remote that day so...', she smiled as I gave her my remote. 'Sure, take your time, I anyways don't watch TV in evenings', I said and returned to my hole.
It was life as usual for her. It was marriage as 'normal' as it can be for her. To each his own I thought with a resolve never to interfere in her affairs again.
As I sat down at a nearby theatre watching Thappad starring Tapsee Pannu, I couldn't stop my thoughts which were hell-bent on drawing parallels between real and reel life.
Yes, a slap was all it took a female protagonist to call it off yet women still choose to suffer in silence without knowing that they are killing that side of theirs which wants to stand on itsown feet, start tiffin services and earn few thousands every month instead of being beaten and abused by your better half every day.
P.S. I still hear sounds next door occasionally, I ignore them.
