“I’m a woman. A married woman. An Indian married woman. But nothing remains in this marriage anymore. It’s just a sham. A farce. A pretence. And yet I’m still pretending. I have my reasons. Like the many others in the country. Society. Parents. Child. Finances. Reasons abound. Or maybe it’s just my lack of guts. My fear of all the complications that will come with moving on………”

This is the story that many Indian women will tell you. Unlike in other countries where acceptance is more, here, if a married woman wants a divorce she is scorned upon. By those who know her and more by those who don’t.

Yes, there is a group of who have the courage to take a stand and move away. Start off on their own. Once again. Right from the beginning. Rebuild. Retry.

The majority don’t though. They stay silent. And suffer. Bloody suffer each day. With each breath. They look at themselves in the mirror and see a person who they don’t recognize. A person who is just a figment of what they once used to be. They want to scream but no sound comes out. They just go about performing their duties towards their family. The mask they wear has now gotten so used to staying on their faces that it can’t be removed anymore. It has become a part of them. The pretence seems real.

It doesn’t make them any less lonely though. They all want to be loved. They all want to feel affection. They are humans too. And so, in times of solitude hope comes knocking on their hearts. They still have that organ. It still beats. At least literally it does. After all they are still breathing. They wish that metaphorically it beat too. They wish that they felt alive once again.

And then, one day, for a lucky few, the impossible happens. They find what they have been wishing for. A new man. One who loves them. One who understands them. One who shows them respect. One who has time for them. One who wants to see them smile. One who wants to listen to them. One who gives them wings to fly again.

It scares them a little initially. So they try and run from the very thing that they have been waiting for. They feel scared to admit it. And then they give in. Give in to the moment of truth. They fall in love as well. Man has never escaped love. Women haven’t either!

Love. A feeling that gives them smiles and joy initially. A feeling that makes them feel like a woman once again. A feeling that makes them proud of their bodies once again. A feeling that makes them feel the happiness of youth once again.

Why then, with the passage of time, do they become so full of greater depression? Just because they are now in a relationship that can’t be given a name? Does one really need a name for all relationships ? A named relationship didn’t give them much in any case. Naming this one might lead to the same ending eventually. Why then can’t they just believe in the love that they have found? Isn’t that enough? Why can’t they just keep it unnamed?

These may seem as mere questions… But who has the answers to it??

-Guest post by Aditi Bose

Aditi Bose is the author of “Hama Guri Goes to School”- an e-book for kids, published by Cresco early this year. Her second book, ‘My Dream Man’, published by Authors’ Ink Publications, is due to enter the market by the end of 2015. She lives in Delhi where she spends her time writing- well into the wee hours of the morning, and chilling with her little daughter.

Do you have an opinion, a view or just a rambling you would like to share? Be a guest at my madhouse and I would be glad to host you. You could reach me on meotherwise(dot)blog(at)gmail(dot)com

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