Caged Birds

“The day I got to wear the golden, twisted metal adorned with rings and talisman features was a high point in my life. It is the exalted 'thali' that accords me a cultural identity and significant status within my society. Why is he trying to take this away from me, Madam? What have I done wrong? What will I do with my two daughters? What about their future?” the barrage of questions and sobs continued in close-up as the camera shifted towards the impassive face of the anchor.

“Look here dear, don’t cry, let’s try to sort this out. Okay? Your husband is here, let’s talk and try to figure this out,” the 300-episode veteran anchor consoled the woman.

Facing the camera, the anchor continued to talk, describing the problems faced by the woman and the events leading to her seeking justice in a TV studio.  The story was not very different from the hundred others from earlier episodes, love, familial conflict, affairs, and in some cases incest and abuse.

But these tragedies have more value with sponsorship. The advertisements for a newly available multi-grain wheat, clothing store, health supplement, beauty soap-cum-fairness cream, potato chips all played in quick succession following a teaser of the new movie releasing that week. After being bombarded with the fruits of consumerism, the show resumed.

The woman sobbing for justice, Kamakshi started describing her tale of woe. Married young and naive for love, bombarded with the harsh realities of life and then finally stuck with mouths to feed and her partner shacking up with somebody else, Kamakshi was daring her husband to a trial by media. It was right now the most lucrative as well as the only option left. While she did know that her pursuit of justice would become dinner table debate for families watching at home, she felt she could gain an ounce of self-respect and showcase the wrath of a wronged woman.

As I changed the channels with my remote I stumbled into the English version of the same reality TV. There were subtle differences, the host was a man shouting at the cheating husband while the bottom screen ticker proclaimed that the couple’s child did not share the husband’s DNA. The screaming matches were the same but the woman in all cases, whether she is the wife, the partner, the concubine or whatever remained the bitch for anyone to judge.

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As I alternated between the two shows, I cringed at my own dilemma. I knew he would be home soon and if I did not act soon, I would lose my chance. Chiku was still sleeping and as I looked at her, and my primal protective instincts started to rise up. My stomach started to pull and as nausea engulfed me I rushed to the washroom. I finished washing up and remembered I had to throw away the pregnancy test kit.

Isolated in this foreign country, I dared to think of the worst that could happen. I knew he would simply label me a kidnapper and take away Chiku. If only I could wrench away from him, I could bargain for her custody.

But if  I am caught at the airport, will I be put in jail, or worst will lose Chiku to him, forever. I dreaded as I looked at the tickets. Ironically it was the golden chain that Kamakshi accorded so much value that helped me get the tickets. The doorbell rang, diverting my thoughts thankfully and I went to answer.

“Mrs. Aruna, your ride is ready,” the friendly driver informed me.

“Just a minute, can you take my suitcase? I will get my daughter.” I was amazed at my own confidence and sort of jolted to action gathering Chiku into my arms as she slightly stirred. The driver, having put away my suitcase, was ready at his seat. I locked the door, I felt, hopefully for the last time as I did not even bother to take my spare set of keys. It was only fifteen minutes later, the enormity of my actions started to tense me.

I was silently praying not to throw up and reach home safe and sound. Ironic, I immediately realized how even after six years, my home always refers to my parents’ house.

“Travelling alone?” the driver asked casually. Indian women travelling alone to the airport is still a worrying sign for most male drivers, who are usually Asian. I was worried that my paranoia was starting to show and that I would be stopped by this curious stranger. As I coughed to start a reply, Chiku woke up.

“No, my husband would see us off at the airport,” I replied. I started to talk with Chiku, and her 20-month babble, a mix of my mother tongue and English helped stop my conversation with the driver. As I cooed and played, gave her chips and water we neared the airport. Relativity works best when you are in the vicinity of a loved one and once I got to the airport, I petty much went onto automatic mode and finally boarded the plane. The flight was not fully booked and as soon as the nonstop commenced, tears seemed to gather unwillingly.

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Chiku had always been a quiet child and she did not bother much during the flight. Engrossed in my thoughts my mind wandered to the incidents from last week when I discovered Alok’s affair. I tried to make sense of my actions, following the intimate videos, the decision to fly away and then the pregnancy test. As I recalled, images of Alok’s laughter seemed as a cruel opposite to the stern reaction with which he posed with me.

I always knew I disappointed him, his aspiration for a fair-skinned Indian bride. Being a British citizen, he believed it was well within his right to a cultured, educated, sophisticated and yet modern Indian wife. While I knew I was not a country bumpkin he made me to be, I am truly at loss as to how an IT professional as myself endured the mental abuse. The assault that left my self-respect and confidence in shards was only partly restored by Chiku. Being barren for four years, she gave me an anchor. I thought she would mend everything. But, the joy was short-lived and for all their liberal values, the Indian stereotype crept in and he distanced from us. We were a pair of failures to him, not the British-Indian family he aspired. I was so stupid to think another child, possibly a boy would probably cement my family.

My parents screamed at me when I got out of the cab. The battalion of relatives, well-wishers and my in-laws were all present. The screaming in different pitches all admonishing my ego-driven, selfish actions continued as I walked into the house. I was surprised that Alok discovered us missing so soon as he is usually never home before 11 pm after his drunken adventures. I thought he would simply not care about our whereabouts, as we spent our mornings visiting the various play activities in nearby parks, libraries and churches. Being a married yet single parent, cooking, cleaning did not occupy all my time and I always promised myself, that Chiku would remain my first priority in life.

Ignoring all the noise, I looked at my father, “I am tired, Chiku needs to sleep as well. Please give me my space. I don’t want to discuss anything now. I will explain my actions when I am rested. Please let me sleep.” I was in no mood to argue or fight, my body saturated with physical and mental exhaustion. I went into my room, and I locked in Chiku and myself. I did not trust my parent’s judgment amidst the mob mentality happening in the house. Five hours later, as I emerged from the room, the house had quieted down, only my parents and my in-laws remained. I felt I owed these four people an explanation.

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“Why did you do this? Do you know how worried Alok is? What happened?” my mother-in-law shrieked.

“I am going to apply for a divorce. Alok cheated on me and things have not been good between us for a long time. I think you need to speak to your son about the problems. I am not giving up custody of Chiku.”

The room lost all its air, everyone lost their composure and I could feel the rising emotions.

“Listen girl, you cannot simply walk out of a marriage. What will happen to our status in society? I will not allow it. It must be some sort of misunderstanding. I am asking Alok to come in right now and settle this nonsense,” my father-in-law authoritatively stated.

As my parents struggled to find words, I looked straight at him and repeated, “I am applying for a divorce and I am not going to give custody of my daughter. Anything else we can discuss only with lawyers present.”

Feeling affronted and disrespected my in-laws angrily left the house cussing me, and my family. As the doors closed my parents looked at me pleadingly. I finally broke down and as soon as tears flowed, they rushed to hold me.

The days that followed were pretty much the same. I would keep getting people advising me, my in-laws and their relatives trying to force me to act sensibly. One aunty even went to the extent of saying that maybe I was home to an evil spirit, and that’s why I was acting so mad. But, Alok never showed up, and I think he was satisfied with the scandal-free existence that he lived abroad. The ignominy of his parents was forgotten soon enough, but my parents felt burdened with shame. Divorce is an outrageous situation and even though I was doing the right thing, every other day, the pleading eyes of my mother suggested I compromise and live with him.

My second pregnancy was a question that nobody dared to ask about. My in-laws wanted to wait and see as a male heir can lead to future property disputes, in case Alok, their only son, got married again. They were worried about their pedigree as if I was some fertile bitch to provide them heirs. Unsure about who their son might end up with for love or lust, I realized the disconnect between Alok and his parents. Their superficial relationship amused me and how they thought simply a citizenship aboard mattered as success in life. The values, morals all faded when compared to their son’s earnings and social status. They lost no chance in reminding me that even nearing 40, their son was a catch while I would be cursed with a life of a single woman with no prospects. I on the other hand was occupied with starting the divorce proceedings and finding a job in another city. My parents kept begging me not to leave.

“Who will take care of Chiku? You cannot go to work and take care of the new baby on the way as well,” my mother reasoned with me. All I could reply was, "I already knew how to be a single parent, that’s how I raised Chiku, so let me decide my life.”

The proceedings continued and I did move to a new city with a new job. It was not a high paying one, but I felt it was good for myself and my daughter. Moreover, I wanted to shield my parents from my choice to have an abortion. I wanted to buffer myself to avoid the moral line of questioning I would have to face and planned to break the news as a miscarriage after I settled into the new life. I knew it was a tough choice and remembered the devastation I felt later. I was being realistic, I knew I would become a wreck, incapable as a mother if I went ahead with another child, confronted him and compromised with my life. The cycle of burden and blame would stretch on my children and I was not ready for a meaningless existence. I knew in my gut that the foetus, even had it been a boy would not have bought us any closer. Unconditional love as a mother is natural but I knew it was not right to burden an unborn child to mend my life. The ordeal would take months more to heal but at least I could handle Chiku and my job. It was going to be a lengthy process, but I had the stamina to fight and felt confident my parents would realize that as well.

It was months later in the new city, that I saw Kamakshi by the side of the road selling flowers. I remembered her from the episode. It was my day off and my parents were at my new home. They had started to see the positive aspect of my decision to live separately. They had become regular visitors and were now pestering me with new questions about my future. Being a single parent had its challenges, especially in a conservative society. But modernization has isolated individuals and I was able to thrive on the anonymity that the city gave me. My parents wanted me to remarry and emphasized their coming of age liberal thinking.

“You can choose, whoever you want. Please dear, at least think about Chiku, doesn’t she deserve a father’s love," my parents kept reasoning. My choice was to be single now and I knew it would be a futile argument with them. I was sneaking out to avoid the disagreement when I saw Kamakshi.

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The intricate pattern of the weaves binding the flowers closer was artistically displayed by her. In her stall modelled similar to the lemonade ones, children set up in first-world countries, she displayed her wares and was constantly calling out for the passers-by to choose her and not the other stalls nearby. She offered to look after their slippers as well; it was a bargain according to her as the customers need not shell out some additional rupees and dirty their hands when they choose to keep the slippers on the dedicated shoe-shelf which the temple maintained. The piercing heat did not deter her pace as she kept shouting, selling her wares and garlanding the flowers simultaneously. She did not know who I was but I struck up a conversation with her. She lamented how usually it was not that hectic but her other day job as a servant in the township villa hijacked her time with some extra duties. It was a Tuesday afternoon and soon the temple would be filled with female devotees lighting lemon lamps, praying for their family's well-being.

Funny I felt, that the goddess inside, a symbol of divine feminine would not be able to perform even half the miracles Kamakshi does in her own life. Married for love at 17, Kamakshi struggled to maintain her family of five by the time she was in her early thirties. I realized I was not very different from her, but that I lacked the spine to confront people for their double standards. I would easily fib about my marital status than engage with the truth when neighbours or colleagues questioned. I did not want to pry more but simply went inside the temple to light a lamp. She assured me, it was auspicious and the goddess always bestows and protects.

As I handed the flowers, the priest looked at me weirdly. It was only then I realized, I was bare-necked, holding a child, and clearly the mother. The admonishing look that he gave was repeated by many other fellow devotees. A single mother, possibly unmarried outraged them. But strangely, I did not feel any shame. I worshiped and left the temple with my daughter. My life choices were going to be a marathon that much I realized.