ONE WAY OUT
A short story in three parts (with facts in Part 4)
Part 1: Anitha
He’s late again.
Anitha checked her watch for the umpteenth time, and sighed. She should be used to Venkat’s lateness. Shifting her hand-bag from her left shoulder to the right, Anitha leaned forward on the bus stop railing. The No. 321 rolled up. From the doorstep, the conductor gave Anitha a questioning look – this was the bus she took to go home. But not today. She shook her head, and the conductor blew on his whistle.
What’s keeping him? Anitha looked down the road once again. Aha, finally. She spotted the bicycle in the distance, Venkat’s burly figure seated confidently upright. He rode up to her waiting figure and alighted, the bike between them as he held onto the handlebar, no intention of putting down the parking stand.
“Hello!” Venkat looked at Anitha with appreciation. She was a very attractive girl! Look how her smile lights up her face! Too bad that her people are so poor – can’t even match up to the wedding expectations. And he a full constable now! With his own lucrative police beat, at a busy truck crossing, ripe for extracting generous bribes from intimidated truckers. With such a potential for earnings, he was worth much more than what Anitha’s parents offered as dowry.
As these thoughts rushed through his head, Venkat felt a creeping disenchantment with the girl in front of him. Should he break off the engagement? No, he should push the girl to work on her parents and get what his parents expected for the wedding.
Aloud he said, “Look I don’t have much time. Have you talked to your parents? Have you told them what a good life I can give you? Have you explained that we need the gold and the apartment to start our life together?”
Anitha’s smile faded. A faint wave of nausea shot through her stomach. Her eyes prickled with tears. Why was Venkat being so demanding? Where was the young man who followed her home regularly a few months ago, mouthing sweet nothings, making her giggle with his outrageous promises for their future together? Didn’t he care anymore?
“Venkat, be reasonable. You know my father doesn’t have the means to provide a big dowry. Let’s just get married, I’ll work too and we will manage well.”
What a pathetic woman! Venkat chose to ignore her plea. “Just talk to your father when you get home. Before Amma and Appa get there this evening. Let them hear some good news. Then we can finalize a date. Okay, I have to go.” Mounting his bike, Venkat cycled away into the traffic.
#
Anitha arranged the teacups and plates of samosas and laddus on the tray, one ear listening to the conversation in the next room. It seemed to be going well. Venkat’s parents had come with an older man, a paternal uncle. They were exchanging pleasantries with her parents.
How is your health? (Good, thank you).
Isn’t it rather hot today? (Yes, but it’s summer, what can we expect!).
Did you hear that four people died of heat stroke in the nearby village? (Tch tch, such a tragedy!).
Weather talk is good! Good time to make an entrance, while no prickly topic has begun. Anitha checked her face in the small wall mirror, grimaced at her reflection, and walked into the next room, eyes dutifully focused on the tea tray in her hands.
Venkat’s mother looked up appreciatively. Such a pretty girl! It will be so nice to have her as my daughter-in-law! “Anitha, my dear! How are you?”
Anitha’s eyes glinted with a silent thank you as she glanced up briefly at Amini, her future mother-in-law, before lowering her eyelids back to the tray. Need to maintain protocol. She offered the tea treats first to the most important person in the room – Venkat’s father. Anand picked up a samosa without acknowledging Anitha’s presence, and chose to change the conversation. Time to get down to the main topic.
“How’s your business doing?”
Anitha’s father Ramu shifted uncomfortably. “It’s going alright. But in the summer time, people aren’t out on the streets much. I have to walk the cart into residential areas so that I can make it easy for the women to choose the mangoes at their doorsteps.”
“It must be hard to be out walking all day in the hot sun. But it’s mango season – you must be doing good sales! So, have you reconsidered our request?”
Oh oh, here it comes. Ramu had been bracing himself for the inevitable topic – more dowry demands. He glanced nervously at his wife, whose polite expression now showed signs of distress. He cleared his throat, and hesitated.
“Come on, you know what I’m talking about. Venkat is a full constable now! Everybody is expecting him to do very well. You know, the Enfield dealer is my old friend. I’ve already talked to him to give you a good deal on the motor bike.”
Anitha’s heart lurched. Having finished serving the guests, she hastily retreated back into the kitchen. Why do they have to be so demanding? Why why why?
Ramu’s face fell even as he tried to maintain calm. He laughed nervously. “Ayya, what are you saying. You know that a motor bike is way beyond our means.”
Ignoring Ramu, Amini joined in. “I’ve seen the perfect apartment for the children. Three rooms! It’s in the new building next to our house. They’re asking for only ten thousand as down payment.”
Ramu’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears. Rema, his wife, sat immobilized by their inability to meet the demands. He joined his hands in a gesture of helplessness and faced Anand. “Please Ayya, understand our situation. We educated our girl, she’s a qualified pharmacist now, she will earn a good income also.”
“No daughter-in-law of mine is going to work. Especially not in a shop where she meets strangers all day long.”
The paternal uncle now joined in. “Ramu, it is you who needs to understand the situation. They are asking for very little, considering their son is a police constable.”
Ramu turned to the uncle. “Dada, please help explain to them. Many women are working in respectable jobs. It is a matter of pride, not shame. And the two of them like each other …”
Anand stood up abruptly, his face suddenly red with anger. “What! You dare to contradict our family honour! Who cares about them liking each other. I will decide. Come Amini, we must leave. They can keep their daughter.” He turned on his heels and stormed out, his wife and uncle hastily following.
In the kitchen, Anitha stood aghast, tears streaming down her cheeks. What was happening? Were they breaking off the engagement? She looked at her parents’ devastated expressions as they stood helpless at the front door. Her mother was sobbing. How could she bring so much hurt on them? Wiping her own tears on her palav, Anitha went towards her parents.
“Amma, Appa, I’m so sorry to bring this on you. I don’t want to get married like this. I will find a good job and look after you.” Anitha’s words only made her parents feel worse. Her mother’s sobs grew louder. Her father quickly drew his wife into the room and shut the front door. He patted his daughter’s arm in a feeble attempt to comfort her.
“Don’t worry, princess, I will find a way. Everything will be alright tomorrow. Now let’s go to sleep, it’s late.” Ramu pointedly unrolled the mattress on the one bed in the main room, and lay down.
#
Anitha went into the back room, shut the door behind her, and sat down on the bed. Her head throbbed. How did this become such a nightmare? Why were Venkat’s parents being so adamant? After all, they were the ones who had sought out her parents with the proposal. Okay, so Venkat did have a great job now. She appreciated that! However, she was professionally qualified too. In fact, two pharmaceutical companies had offered her jobs at the recent campus interviews. Not that she could take them. How could she move to a strange city far away? But still, it meant she was job-worthy.
Buzz buzz! The vibrating cell phone startled her. “Hello?”
“Hello Anitha.” It was Venkat! Perhaps he was going to clear the air! Anitha’s spirits rose. A little too soon.
“Anitha, what did your father say? My parents are so upset. Why didn’t you prepare your father to agree to what we ask? He can get a loan, pay it off later. How difficult is that?”
“Venkat, listen to me. My Appa is doing his very best. He is arranging for two new beds, a gas connection, all the kitchen utensils. We can rent someplace …”
“Not good enough. You’d better get them to agree. I give you till tomorrow evening.” Click!
Anitha stared at the phone as it went silent. She shouldn’t have expected anything else. Venkat was a traditional dutiful son. He wouldn’t cross his parents for anything. Increasingly, his romantic banter turned into belittling sarcasm whenever the conversation turned to arrangements for their wedding. Was he changing his mind about marrying her? Did he mean the ultimatum he just made?
Then there was the other thing. Even this evening, on her return from the bus stop, Anitha had checked her underwear. It was spotless. It was two months now. Two months since she had impulsively let Venkat do whatever he wanted to. In the heat of the moment, she had wanted it too. It had felt good! It was the one time they had been alone in Venkat’s room, his parents out of town attending a funeral. It was so impromptu, neither had thought of protection.
Could it be? Women missed their periods for all sorts of reasons. She herself had been irregular. But how was she to be sure? What if she went to a doctor, and the worst was confirmed? No, that couldn’t happen. No one should know. Even getting rid of it was an impossible thought. It would get out eventually, and then what would Venkat do to her. The disgrace would be intolerable. For both families.
No, there was only one way out. Recently, she had thought about it more and more. It seemed the only thing to do. To release her parents from financial traps. To leave whatever little her parents had for her younger sister to benefit. To rid herself of an impossible situation, a husband who wouldn’t care, in-laws who would belittle and harass her all through life.
Anitha took off her sari, one of the only three she had. She smoothed it out to its full six yards, and glanced up at the ceiling to the only fan in the house. Yes, she had been given the room with a fan, because she was the promising one. The educated one, brimming with potential to earn a handsome income, enough to support her parents in addition to helping run a home with her husband.
The house was quiet. No sounds came from street outside either. Maybe it was destiny. Maybe the fan was there for another reason. Now was the time.
She moved her old textbooks from the small table and positioned it on top of the bed. She climbed up carefully, length of sari in one hand. She couldn’t botch this up, end up with a broken leg, make the situation worse. No, it had to be done right.
Anitha swung one part of the sari over a fan blade, and adjusted it to the centre. She jiggled the cloth till both ends were dangling at the same length. Carefully, she wound the ends round and round, focusing on the task with precision. Yes, it was the right thing to do. She was calm now. She tightened the cloth till it fit snugly around her neck. Then she closed her eyes and kicked the table from under her.
Forgive me, Appa and Amma.
Part 2: Venkat
“My darling daughter! My darling daughter! Bring her back, you XX00##!!!”
Venkat stared mesmerized at his smartphone, deep into the latest Bollywood scandal. A minor actress had been found dead in her hotel room. The live newscast showed the actress’ mother crying and screaming accusations and abuses at anyone who cared to listen. A large crowd was enjoying the spectacle on the street in front of the hotel. His favourite star Chetan was a prime suspect.
Buzz! Buzz!
Who can that be? Irritated at the interruption, Venkat ignored the call.
Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!
Who the hell is it? Venkat impatiently pressed a button and glanced at the number. Firdaus! What does he want now? I’ll call him back. Venkat dismissed the call, returned to the star’s story, and increased the volume to get the full impact of the drama unfolding live in Mumbai. The camera zoomed in on the hysterical mother, held the shot for ten seconds, then panned to the hotel manager standing arms akimbo, tie awry, distraught expression. Look, here comes the police. Now we’ll see some action!
Thud! Thud! Thud! It took Venkat a full minute to realize that the thuds were coming from the other side of his locked bedroom door, not from the phone screen.
“Venkat! Open up, man! Open up! Something terrible has happened!” Thud! Thud! Thud!
Venkat scrambled to the door. Even as he unlatched the bolt, Firdaus crashed through, panting. Sweat poured down his forehead. “What’s up? You look very upset.”
“Man, you’re the one who needs to be upset. Why didn’t you take my calls? Haven’t you got the news?”
“What news?” Venkat was intrigued. What kind of news would get his friend into such a frenzy?
Firdaus was still gulping breath. “About Anitha, man. The news about Anitha.”
“Anitha? What about her? I just spoke to her late last night. Why are you looking at me so strangely? Come, you need to sit down.”
“No, you need to sit down.” Firdaus put his hands on Venkat’s shoulders and pushed him back to his chair. He took a deep breath, and stared at Venkat, shaking his head as if he couldn’t bring himself to state the news. “You mean you really don’t know yet? Man, Anitha’s committed suicide.”
“What?” Venkat did a double take and stood up involuntarily. His heart leapt to his mouth; his head exploded. This couldn’t be happening. “What did you say?”
“Yes, man. She was found hanging in her room.”
“What!” Venkat couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Things hadn’t been going well recently between his fiancée and himself, but … suicide? Hanging? No, it couldn’t be. Another look at Firdaus, though, who was now looking at him pityingly, and Venkat knew it must be true. Suddenly overcome by the horrific reality, panic rose up his throat and erupted.
“Aaaahhh! No no no! Why does this happen to me? What did that damn black-faced girl think? It’s not my fault! Her parents can’t even come up with a decent dowry! And she making excuses for them all the time! The pathetic bitch! Why should I care where they get the money from? It’s their duty to find it!” Venkat was blubbering in anger and despair.
“Calm down, man. Why are you blaming yourself? Did something happen between the two of you?”
“No – yes. The wedding plans were going ahead. But Appa says that the girl’s people can’t get away with a meager dowry – just two lakhs. Now that I’m a proper constable, have my own beat and everything, the girl should give me a motor-bike. And buy me an apartment. Which we could rent out. The useless sons of bitches. Who do they think they are? If they want to marry their daughter to a police constable, they should have come up with proper gifts.”
Firdaus looked at his friend with a mixture of wonder and disgust. Such over-confidence! What presumptuousness to assume that he was worth so much! Venkat had always been quite full of himself. But this was not the time to remind him of that. Aloud, Firdaus said, “Relax, man. Why do you feel guilty? It could’ve been some other reason. Maybe her parents were beating her up?”
“Huh, fat chance! They spoilt her rotten! Letting her complete her bachelor’s degree when she should’ve been sent out to clean houses for a living! What with her father a mere fruit vendor, and her mother sick all the time, they’re lucky that I agreed to marry their daughter!”
Venkat paced up and down the room, staring at the floor as he spouted self-righteous anger. It took him a full minute to realize that someone was standing silently at the door. His mother, one hand holding her sari palav over her mouth.
“Son, what is the matter?”
“Amma!” Venkat was suddenly immobilized.
“What’s happening?” Amini’s gaze went from Venkat to Firdaus. “You, why don’t you tell me. Someone tell me!”
Oh shit! Firdaus felt trapped. How did he get in the middle of this mess? Now Venkat was looking at him beseechingly.
“Aunty, haven’t you heard? Anitha has passed away.” Firdaus paused, the fact choking in his throat. Amini’s shocked gaze fixed on him, her eyes urging him to continue. “What are you saying? Just yesterday we were at her house. She served us tea with her lovely smile.”
Yes, Amini recalled, she and her husband had gone to Anitha’s home last evening. It hadn’t been a pleasant visit, though. Lately, things hadn’t been going well between the two families. Ever since Anand had decided that the girl’s family hadn’t offered enough of a dowry for his son.
They had tried subtlety at first. At a meeting two weeks ago, they had alluded to their son’s excellent new job – a police constable! – and to Anand’s cousin’s recent wedding, where the ultimate gift from the in-laws – a spanking new Maruti car – had been proudly displayed. But though Anitha’s parents got the message, they clearly said they couldn’t match such an extravagant dowry.
Anand had grown increasingly agitated. It didn’t help that his sisters kept asking about what he was getting as dowry for Venkat. And that his colleagues made snide remarks about how much gold would be hung on the bride’s neck, now that Venkat was a full constable. Hah! Anand felt his hands were tied.
That silly son of theirs had fallen for Anitha the minute he saw her at their neighbour’s house. Her large doe eyes twinkled with a love for life, her smile radiated positiveness from her dark face. Yes, she sure was dark-skinned! Though her lovely long hair, slim physique, high cheekbones and straight nose, combined with her lovely smile, dismissed the colour of her skin. Anitha had been attractive enough to persuade Anand and Amini to find out, at Venkat’s urging, who this girl was, and whether she was available for marriage.
The initial meetings with Anitha’s parents had been very pleasant, both sides exchanging small gifts – fruit platters, homemade sweets, saris for the mothers. The young couple began to meet regularly – this was the 21st century! And they seemed so happy. A date was set. Which gave the parents enough time to think about what the girl was bringing to the marriage. Which meant the dowry, of course. It was the norm. Every bridegroom had his price. It was the practical thing to do. How would the couple start life otherwise? How would they find suitable matches for his sisters, if there wasn’t enough gold to pass on?
Amini agreed with Anand that they needed to press for more gifts for their son. Perhaps they could go easy on the amount of gold Anitha’s parents gave their daughter, but surely they must see the logic of providing basic living amenities, like a motor-bike and an apartment. And so they had visited last evening. Anitha’s father had nothing more to offer. Of course he really didn’t, the poor man. With his uncertain earnings as a fruit vendor, he barely brought home enough to feed the family. What could they expect?
But Anand had been in an unrelenting mood. Buttressed by memories of his sisters’ nagging and his colleagues’ teasing, he stood his ground. Anitha’s father wrung his hands; Anitha’s mother’s eyes brimmed with tears as they pleaded their helplessness at increasing the dowry. As she served tea and biscuits, Anitha’s smile quivered. The meeting had ended in a deadlock, Anand and Amini storming out haughtily.
Now, looking at the two young men in front of her, Amini was afraid to ask more questions. Shock and fear were written large on their faces. She glared at Firdaus, then switched back to staring at Venkat. “Come on, out with it. How did the girl die? Was there an accident?”
“Anitha committed suicide by hanging herself.” Venkat finally found his voice.Amini’s breakfast came surging halfway up her gullet even as a wave of nausea made her head swim.
“What’s going on?”
Nobody heard Anand coming up behind Amini, till his big build framed the door. He brushed past his wife and stopped directly in front of Venkat.
“I just got the news. Cousin Rupa called me. No need to panic, you silly boy.” Anand put his arms around his son. “Why are you worried? What can we do if that stupid girl took her own life. It’s not our concern. Good thing it happened before you walked around the wedding fire, and good that she did it in her own house. How can we be held responsible?”
Part 3: Ramu
“Your case is not very strong.” The young lawyer tapped her pen subconsciously on the edge of the table.
Ramu felt his heart constrict. His expression went from hopeful to hopeless. Aloud he said, “How can that be? Anitha is dead because we were constantly being harassed by my daughter’s to-be’s family. She took her own life the same night they repeated their very impossible demands for the hundredth time.”
Was death not a strong enough accusation? He looked hesitatingly at the woman in front of him. Thin body, hair pulled back into a tight plait, cheap sari flung haphazardly over her left shoulder, scrawny face. Her looks typified who she was – a newbie lawyer who didn’t earn enough to put food on the table. But then there were the large eyes behind thick-rimmed glasses. The eyes made all the difference – exuding confidence, even defiance. Her eyes stared back at Ramu.
“As you told me, they were not married. Dowry harassment cases are admitted when a married woman is killed.” Rina glanced at the papers in front of her. “What proof do you have that these people were asking for dowry? Nothing had been given to them yet, am I right?”
“But Venkat’s parents came to our house many times and made unreasonable demands. Besides sending many go-betweens with the same message. And on top of that, Venkat himself constantly pestered Anitha to get more out of us.” Ramu looked pleadingly at the lawyer. Was she capable of handling the case?
It was almost a full year since Anitha had hanged herself. Recalling the morning he had found her limp body swaying gently from the ceiling fan brought tears to Ramu’s eyes even now. In the middle of the shock, the grief, the shame, the thought of taking the legal route to justice had seemed useless. They were simple people, almost poor, managing to eke out a living. Somehow Anitha had been awarded a scholarship to pharmacy college, where she topped her class every term. She had been their hope.
They hadn’t even filed an FIR, until Ramu’s friend Bharat urged them to do so, two months after the tragedy. Fortunately, it was accepted at the local police station. But no arrests were made. Instead, Venkat’s father had sent a frightening message through his brother, threatening dire circumstances if Ramu tried to link Anitha’s death to Venkat. Cleverly, they did not put down anything in writing.
A few days after Anitha’s funeral, a reporter had shown up at their doorstep: perhaps one of her classmates had alerted the local newspaper. Ramu and Rema had refused to talk, but the neighbours filled the reporter in with whatever they imagined had happened. A five-line item appeared on the fourth page of the paper, and was soon forgotten.
Anitha’s friends had been almost as distraught as Ramu and Rema. They called on Ramu and urged him to file a case; Ramu dismissed them as naïve idealists. Who would take a poor fruit vendor seriously? It was Bharat who finally persuaded Ramu to look for a lawyer, and helped Ramu write down the facts. However, the two local lawyers both refused to even read the FIR – they were afraid of Venkat’s father’s clout with the village goondas (strongmen). And so, months went by.
Two months ago, on her return from a Mahila Samaj (Women’s Collective) meeting, Rema had told Ramu how her friend had introduced her to the main speaker, Ms. Sridevi, the MP for their constituency. Despite Rema’s protests, the friend recounted the story of Anitha’s suicide under suspicious circumstances. The MP had shown some interest, and asked Rema to come see her if she needed anything; and then she was whisked away to a waiting limousine.
When Ramu told Bharat about Rema meeting the woman MP, he insisted that Ramu go meet the politician and ask for her help. One of Sridevi’s main platforms was women’s rights and dowry deaths. Bharat in fact made the appointment for Ramu, and went with him to the MP’s office. Only to find that Sridevi had left ‘urgently’ for New Delhi. But the woman in the front office seemed to want to help. She listened to Ramu’s story, took in Bharat’s question about finding a lawyer, lapsed into silence for a full three minutes, then said that she may know someone who could take the case. And recommended Rina.
Now, Ramu wondered if Rina was the right choice. As if he had the luxury of choice. The only other option was to drop the matter entirely, and live with bitter-sweet memories of his daughter. But that didn’t seem right. Anitha’s ghost wouldn’t let him. Nor would Bharat.
“Hello, are you asleep or what?”
Rina’s loud voice shook Ramu from his musings. He looked up and tried to focus on what she was saying.
“I was asking, do you have any witnesses?”
“Witness of the hanging? How is that possible?”
“No, no, you need witnesses of the dowry harassment. Who will be able to tell the court about how you were harassed?”
Ramu felt irritated by the impatience in the lawyer’s tone. Couldn’t she be more understanding?
“There is me, and my wife. And the police report of the hanging. That should be enough, isn’t it?”
“Hmmm.” Rina’s pen was tapping on the table again. “The case would be stronger if someone from outside the family could testify.” Abruptly, she looked at her watch and sucked in her breath. “Look, your time is up. I have to go to court. If you can find some real witnesses, give me a call. You have my mobile number.”
Ramu watched speechlessly as the lawyer picked up a couple of files and strode out the door.
#
On the way home, Ramu wondered at the futility of it all. Where was he going to find someone who saw them being harassed? Rema and he had not discussed the harassment with anyone. It was such a dishonorable topic. How could they let it be known that they couldn’t put together a dowry for their daughter? Some of their neighbours had been envious of their ‘catch’ – a police officer for a son-in-law! They knew nothing about what it cost. Till it was too late.
#
The front door to his home was wide open, and Ramu heard voices from inside. Who would be visiting them? They had lost most of their friends – no one wanted to be connected to a suicide household. Family members too found excuses to stay away.
“Good evening, uncle.” As Ramu walked into the house, Anitha’s college friend Gita stood up from the only chair in the room. “I just wanted to see how you are doing.”
“Namaste, daughter.” Ramu folded his hands in greeting. ‘We are doing alright, thank you.” He smiled weakly, torn between wanting to be hospitable and wondering whether the girl was here to collect juice for gossip. He immediately felt remorse at the latter thought. Gita had been a good friend of Anitha’s, even though her family was much better off than theirs. Anitha had gone often to Gita’s house, ostensibly to study together, more likely to share confidences in the privacy of Gita’s very own room. Would she be able to throw some light on Venkat’s behaviour?
“Have you given her something to eat?” Ramu gave Rema a questioning look as he made this formal statement of hospitality, even though there was a plate of biscuits and a tumbler of tea on the small table.
“Yes, thank you Uncle, Aunty is taking good care of me.”
Ramu smiled at the two women and sat down on the bed that occupied most of the front room. Rema stood up to give him space – and deference.
“I was just telling Aunty about this year’s final exam results.” Gita was a bubbly young girl who had no trouble chatting with everybody. “Prabha came first this time, with 93%. I also didn’t do too badly, I got 90% overall. But the results are not as good as they were two years back. Anitha had got 98% in that year, I remember all of us rejoicing, it was the highest marks ever.”
Ramu’s eyes misted over. He looked away from Gita and made eye contact with Rema, whose eyes shone with unshed tears. Their girl had been a hardworking student. And truly brilliant. She would have topped her class in the finals, and could have set out on a promising career.
No one spoke for a full two minutes. Gita looked stricken, as if she had realized her faux pas. She stood up and made as if to leave.
“I’d better go, my mother will be waiting.”
“No, wait, daughter, what’s your hurry. Please stay a little longer. Your company makes us happy. Meeting Anitha’s friends is as though she is here also.” Ramu shook himself out of his melancholy. Why make this girl feel bad? He didn’t want to lose touch with Anitha’s friends, at least they brought back happy memories. As Gita sat back in the chair, another thought came to Ramu.
“You know, daughter, I’m wondering if you can help us. I am just coming from the lawyer’s office. She wants us to find some witnesses of the harassment that Anitha went through. Did Anitha ever discuss with you about how Venkat and his family were troubling us about dowry?”
A look of fear passed through on Gita’s face, and turned into an expression mixed with concern and helpfulness. She cleared her throat.
“As a matter of fact, I know that Anitha was quite puzzled over Venkat’s attitude. According to her, he was sometimes really nice to her, and then at other times he used to almost threaten her.” She stopped short.
“Threaten her? About what?” Ramu urged Gita to state the specifics.
“Well, it was like this …” Gita hesitated and looked uncertainly at Ramu, then continued in a rush. “Sometimes Anitha used to be very worried about how Venkat treated her. Sha told me that he would threaten to break off the engagement, if she didn’t ask you to promise him a motor-bike. He would not contact her for days till she called him and agreed to talk to you about it.”
Gita stopped again, and picked up her phone. “Wait, I may have a message from Anitha about this. That time, she was so distraught that she sent me a text message asking me to meet her as soon as possible.” She paused as she scrolled down her phone messages to two years back. “Ah, here it is.” She held out her phone to Ramu.
“Can we meet soon? Very worried about Venkat’s manner. He says he wants to call off the wedding.”
Reading the message, Ramu didn’t know whether to rejoice at the possibility of real evidence, or weep at this proof of his daughter’s distress. He handed the phone back to Gita.
“Would you be able to testify to this?”
“Sure, Uncle, I will do anything that helps put that horrible man behind bars.”
“Thank you.” Ramu smiled at Gita with relief and gratitude. “If you don’t mind, I will tell the lawyer about what you said.”
“Okay Uncle.” Gita stood up and gathered her handbag. “I should take your leave now. But you have my mobile number, don’t you? Please call me whenever you need me.”
That night, Ramu tossed and turned as he went over the distressing text message from Anitha to Gita. He couldn’t wait for the morning to be able to call the lawyer with this fresh information.
#
“So, you said you had a solid witness. It had better be good. I’ve cancelled an important client to accommodate you today.” Rina’s defiant eyes stared almost unblinkingly at Ramu.
He had had to wait for a whole week before the lawyer even picked up the phone. Ramu had left voice messages on the Rina’s phone every day, for seven days. It was hope that motivated to keep trying – hope, and dogged determination. He couldn’t let Anitha down. And Gita. And Rema. And himself.
Now he confidently returned Rina’s stare. “One of Anitha’s friends is willing to testify about the harassment she had received.”
“Hmmm. What kind of evidence does this friend have? What kind of friend was this person?”
“Gita. Gita was Anitha’s best friend in college. The time when Anitha was engaged to Venkat. She says that Anitha discussed Venkat’s behavior with her many times. In fact, she has a message on her phone to prove it.”
“A message on her phone?” The lawyer sat forward in her chair. “What did the message say?”
“Something about how Anitha wanted to meet Gita urgently to discuss Venkat.” Ramu’s pulse rate went up a notch:at last she is showing some interest. “I can ask her to meet you, if you like.”
“Yes, I would need to talk to her.”
Ramu was about to respond, when his mobile began to ring. He glanced at the number. Rema. She never called unless it was urgent – they couldn’t afford to pay for non-essential chatter.
“Excuse me, I have to take this call.” Ignoring Rina’s impatient grunt, Ramu clicked on the phone.
“Listen, please come home immediately. There was a very unusual visitor just now. He was disturbed when he found you were not here. He is coming back in half an hour.”
“What are you trying to say? Who was it?” Ramu was concerned at the panicked tone of his wife’s voice, and irritated that she was talking in riddles.
“He said not to take his name on the phone. People could be listening.”
“But what is it about? I don’t owe money to anybody. You’re not making any sense.”
“It’s not about money.” Rema’s voice seemed to hesitate, then went into a whisper. “It’s about Anitha.”
It was Ramu’s turn to sit upright. “Okay, I’m coming.” He put the mobile into his pocket and stood up.
“Sorry, I have to go. Some trouble at home.”
#
It took Ramu twenty minutes to cycle home through the erratic traffic. He entered to find Rema standing at one end of the room, arms folded. She looked visibly relieved to see him, and inclined her head very slightly towards the man sitting on their only chair.
“Namaste, Ramu.”
Ramu turned towards the voice and stepped back in surprise. It was Venkat’s paternal uncle, Sushil Dada. Was he here to threaten them again? What could that family want from them now? Through such fearful thoughts, conventional propriety came through. Ramu went forward to touch the older man’s feet.
“Namaste, Dada, we are honoured that you are visiting.”
“I have come to help you.” Sushil Dada gestured to Ramu to take a seat. Ramu sat down on the bed. The older man looked at him with sympathy.
“For the past two years, I have been troubled by what happened to you. It was not right. Not right at all.” Sushil Dada shifted in his chair and clasped his hands together tight. Ramu and Rema looked on, speechless with expectation. “You see, those greedy rascals are so shameless. Anitha was such a gem of a girl, with a promising career, they should’ve counted their blessings and got Venkat married to her. Instead, they forced her into …” Sushil Dada stopped abruptly when he saw tears in Ramu’s eyes. After a few seconds of awkward silence, he resumed.
“Thing is, now those rascals are arranging another marriage for Venkat. And they are harassing this other girl’s family in the same way. They need to be stopped. I want to stop them.”
“We are trying to bring a case against them, Dada. But what can we do?” Ramu shook his head at the futility of such a thought.
“I have been a party to their discussions when Venkat and Anitha were engaged.” Sushil Dada’s voice now grew confident. “The things they came up with! So many mean ways to try to get more dowry from you. They even had their own plan on how to get rid of a bride. I have heard it all. I am willing to testify.”
Ramu laughed out loud with relief. He folded his hands and bowed his head to Sushil Dada. He had no idea why the older man was now ready to speak up against members of his family, but he didn’t care. What mattered most was that now there was certain hope.
Part 4: DOWRY DEATHS: FACTS AS A CALL TO ACTION
A quick search for news on dowry deaths brought up two recent cases in Bhopal: December 13, 2020 (Times of India, 2020) and January 12, 2021 (Times of India, 2021). Over the past few years, statistics report that dowry deaths have increased (Gupta 2020, Prasad 2020, Bundhun 2017, Nigam 2017, Srivastav 2016). How many unreported, unpunished cases do these represent? How many women continue to be harassed, even killed? How can we help such women to benefit from national and international movements like “Me, Too”?
Social change takes a long time, even if legalized. It is social change that is needed – a change of mindset, in how we guide our children, especially the male child. Little boys, and grown men, need to be taught how to treat girls and women equally – not superior or inferior, but with rights and responsibilities the same as boys and men. We need to talk about it aloud to everyone – our families, friends, neighbours, colleagues, house help. It needs to be out there more – more people need to hear the stories – to recognize the evil, and to vow to fight it.
References:
Bundhun, R. (2017). Dowries and deaths continue apace in India. Retrieved from https://www.thenational.ae/world/dowries-and-death-continue-apace-in-india-1.81522
Gupta, R. (2020). 20 Women Die A Day: Dowry Deaths Still A Threatening Reality In India? Retrieved from
Nigam, C. (2017). 21 lives lost to dowry every day across India – conviction rate less than 35%. Retrieved from https://www.indiatoday.in/mail-today/story/dowry-deaths-national-crime-records-bureau-conviction-rate-972874-2017-04-22
Prasad, P. (2020).17 dowry cases in 16 days of new year. New Indian Express. Retrieved from https://www.newindianexpress.com/cities/bengaluru/2020/jan/17/17-dowry-cases-in-16-days-of-new-year-2090576.html
Srivastava, V. (2016). Dowry deaths – India’s shame. Retrieved from http://www.countercurrents.org/2016/07/06/dowry-deaths-indias-shame/
Times of India. (2020). Man, family booked for dowry after wife hangs herself. Retrieved from
https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/bhopal/man-family-booked-for-dowry-after-wife-hangs-self-in-bhopal/articleshow/79973418.cms
Times of India. (2021). Bhopal: Techie, mother booked for dowry death. Retrieved from
https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/bhopal/bhopal-techie-mother-booked-for-dowry-death-cruelty/articleshow/80401733.cms
2016-2021