The Heart's Strength

Beads of sweat trickled down Jaya’s face as she brushed them off hurriedly.
A single strand of her hair swept across her vision. Without a thought she pushed it behind her ear with her flour covered fingertips. Wiping off another escaping drop of sweat, she shouted out to her children as they stood on the other side of the kitchen, stamping their feet impatiently.
“Two more minutes,” She said, turning to her elder one for a second and then turning back to her burning roti.
“I don’t have two minutes,” The girl responded, glaring at her mother with angry red eyes and gritted teeth. Snatching away her lunch box, she stormed off.
“No, no!” Jaya shouted, running after her daughter with a boiling roti in her hands. “You have to have your breakfast, don’t go without any!”
Waving without even turning, the girl walked away.
Panting for breath, her heart broken with worry and hatred towards her own incapability, Jaya walked back into the house, no longer feeling the heat of the roti in her fingers.
“Mommy,” The younger one said, holding his arms up towards her. Jaya turned her attention to him and picked him up in her arms. “It’s just you and me now,” She said, kissing his wobbly cheek.
Jaya lived with her two children, a lovely teenage girl and a beautiful baby boy in her modest double bedroom apartment. She didn’t have a husband, not one she needed anyway, and though that didn’t bother her, she realized that the neighbours did.
“I’m calling in sick at work. Shall we go out shopping?” She asked her son, cuddling him and enjoying the sound of his laughter. At four years old, he was the bubbliest, most adorable boy she’d ever known. But then again, in her eyes, both her children were the best in the world.
 
As she set off to take her bath, she set her son in front of the television and went to find herself some fresh clothes. Making sure he was safe, she closed the washroom door and began peeling off the layers of clothes, one by one. As she got more and more exposed in her own skin, she began feeling lighter, as if a burden was off her mind and soul. Turning the shower, she let the cold water kiss her tender skin like no man ever had and closed her eyes to the bruises that hadn’t healed in over five years.

“His name is Raghav and he’s a very nice boy from our village. He’s earning in dollars and his parents are open to your working after marriage. He doesn’t even want a dowry. You know I have to get your sister and brother married... Please say yes!”
Jaya looked down at her feet, uncertain. She didn’t think Raghav was a suitable match for her but then again, as three pairs of eyes, her mother’s, her brother’s and her sister’s looked down at her expectedly, she nodded through the tears that clogged her heart.
Before she could breathe, the proceedings had set in, crowding her with no chance to make her own choices.
Eventually, the moment arrived where she found herself sitting with her head lowered as the sacred thread threatened to choke her. She was married. To Raghav, a man she didn’t know much about except for the fact that his name succeeded hers on the wedding banner and his life would precede her own forever.

“Taking the little one out?” She heard a voice ask behind her as she locked the main door. Turning to the nosy neighbour, she smiled politely and nodded.
“Yeah, it’s a mother son day out,” She smiled.
“Without the father?”
Jaya sighed.
“He’s on tour, as usual!” She lied, getting tired of all the questions.  
“Seriously, Jaya, where’s your husband?” The lady asked. “You’ve moved in over three months ago into this apartment and I haven’t seen him once.”
Ignoring the woman, Jaya stormed off to the nearest grocery store.

 

“You can’t work anymore,” He said, shaking his head as she entered the house. “You’re home after I am and I hate returning to an empty house!”
She set her bag down and tied up her hair.
“It‘s just for today. Besides, I’m done with the cooking and the cleaning. Richa is in her room studying and you have the TV to yourself. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is,” He shouted, his arms in the air. “You’re always out with other men when your sexually frustrated husband is waiting at home for you!”
Anger brew within her soul at his words.
“I have my needs too!” She said. “I can’t always whip up something in the kitchen for you or warm your bed for your wants. I have my own!”
That was the day she tasted her first slap. 
 

“Mommy?” Her son pulled at her Kurti. “Mommy?”
She turned, lost in thoughts.
“Signal green!” He pointed.
Looking around, she finally heard the persistent honking behind her and shifted the car to gear.
“What are you thinking about?” He asked, chewing on his finger.
“Nothing, sweetheart. Want some ice cream?”

“You’re back late!” The neighbour said, looking at her watch as Jaya walked into the apartment with her bag of groceries and her son clinging on to her.
Jaya was in no mood for the lady’s temper tantrums. Besides, it was only four in the afternoon.
“Is your husband expected back next week?”
Exasperated, Jaya set her bags down and walked over to the woman.
“No!” She said, her hands on her hips. “Not today, not ever! I don’t have a husband and I don’t need one!”
Covering her mouth with her hands, the neighbour shook her head.
“Oh my God! You’re divorced?”
“And proud.”
“But who’s going to take care of you?”
Jaya scoffed? “No offence to you or your fragile relationships, but I happen to be fully functional. I work six days a week and I’m taking my children out on Sundays with all the money I earn from the skills I possess. I’m an independent woman. We all need to be.”
“But... He’s a man!”
“As far as I’m concerned, he’s just one less person to cook for. Have a good day.”


The smell of alcohol reeked all over the house. She closed her nose as he entered the room around two in the morning.
“Jaya...” He shouted, least bothered about the possibility that she may be asleep. “Jaya!”
Pretending not to hear him, knowing that he was calling out to her for one reason and one reason only, she closed her eyes, her back turned towards him.
“Jaya, I need you...” He said and she instantly felt his cold, smothering hand on her waist.
He squeezed, slowly at first, and then harder.
She lay still, trying not to flinch.
“Oh,” He said, leaning towards her with his stench filling her lungs, touching her face. “You’re asleep.”
Then, she heard the sound of him discarding his clothes and wondered for a second if he was savage enough to take advantage of a sleeping woman. As he pushed her night gown up high above her thighs and further still, she sat up, unable to control her anger and shook her head.
“No,” She said, her hand on his chest. “Not today.”
Unwilling to listen in his drunken stupor, he exerted his entire physical force on her till he got his way.
That was the night her son was born. 


Back at home, she heard footsteps in the bedroom.
Panicking, she picked up the dumbbell she hid behind the pots outside and made her way into the room, armed and ready for the attack.
But just as she stepped in, her daughter squealed.
“Put that down!” She said, scared. “It’s just me! I got home early to surprise you!”
Jaya immediately set the dumbbell down and looked around the made up room.
“Oh darling,” She said, hugging her daughter, her heart still pounding on her chest. “I’m so happy, thank you.”
“I came home early to do this. I’m sorry for shouting at you this morning!”
Jaya shook her head and waved off the apology.
“I’ll cook you something nice for dinner! You both go watch some TV!” She said, as she made her way into the kitchen again.
Standing by the heating stove, her wandering mind unable to rest, she went back to her thoughts.

The sound of the slap reverberated around the four walls of the room.
But this time, crouched on the floor was her husband. As she stood on top of him, her breaths shallow with hatred, he whimpered.
She wondered if this was the man she’d bowed down to and listened to for so many years.
As her daughter came out of her bedroom, wiping her tired eyes, Jaya asked her to leave the room. The girl saw her father on the floor and then shook her head.
“I didn’t see anything, mom.” She said, walking away. “You just continue what you’re doing.”
At her consent, Jaya felt strength in her that she never knew she had.
She was three months pregnant and even that didn’t stop his constant torture. She knew that she had to get out of this relationship, one that was filled with so much pain and torture.
“I want a divorce,” She said, as her husband lay crumpled on the floor, his brain woozy from the alcohol. “I want it tomorrow. You get the papers, pay the lawyers and have it done. Are you clear?”

The next morning, when he was sober, he refused to sign the documents.
“I’ll call the police,” She said. “I’ll cite sexual harassment.”
That calmed him down. But his arrogance wasn’t to be cooled.
“You won’t survive without me!” He threatened.
“I should be saying that about you!” She replied. “You can’t even fend for yourself without my constant attention whereas I can live my life freely without you.”
“Let me see you try!” He challenged. “Oh, and take those kids with you!”
As he signed the papers, she felt a burden lift off her heart.

Four years later, she was well settled in a decent job with good timings. Her children adored her and she couldn’t imagine life without them. Years from now, when her son grew up and asked to see his father, she’d let him visit the man without any cruelty of the past in her heart.
For now, however, her life was complete. It was the one thing she craved her entire existence that she finally had now.
Independence.
The world was in her hands and she knew just what to do with it.
Standing in the kitchen, cooking for her children, she knew that as a mother she’d forever have her duties. But she was so much more than just that now.
A Survivor. A role model.
But most importantly, a woman...