Victim By Shridhar Sadasivan In English : Sumant Srivathsan
From Daily News: New York, Monday, Dec 17: A young Indian woman jumped in to the Hudson River along with her 10 month-old infant. It is believed that she jumped as a result of severe emotional distress from a troubled marriage. ---New York, Sunday, Dec 16: It was unbearably cold. My body had shriveled up. I was curled into a ball, legs folded to my chest. Every bone in my body hurt like they were broken. My throat had gone dry and my chest felt like a crowbar was pounding into it. My limbs and body had gone numb and I had lost all sensation. Somehow, I brushed aside the frost and opened my eyes. A large pickle jar, a container of frozen dosa1 batter, orange juice, a half-eaten watermelon, chocolate cake wrapped in a film . . . What am I doing inside the fridge? “Aiyo!” I murmured, barely able to make a sound. The door opened and Raghu pushed the watermelon to one side and looked around inside the refrigerator. “Raghu, please get me out of here. Aiyo! I’m trapped inside the fridge!” I yelled as loudly as I could. Raghu shut the door slowly, careful not to slam it, and walked away. A couple of minutes passed, and Amma2 opened the fridge. “Amma, I’m in here! I don’t know how I got here, but help me out, please!” Amma couldn’t hear me either. “Where is Latha? She should’ve been home from work by now,” she said as she picked up the pickle jar from the fridge, and then shut the door. “Amma! I’m right here! Why can’t any of you see me? Someone get me out of here, please!” I screamed in agony. A few minutes later, my colleague Ranjani opened the fridge and placed a box inside. “Ranjani, I feel like I’m going to die. My body hurts and I can’t breathe. Can you help me out?” I waved my arms and kicked my legs as vigorously as I could. “What’s that noise?” Ranjani dug around inside the fridge frantically. 1 2
Dosa – South Indian delicacy made with rice and lentils Amma – Mother in Tamil
Victim By Shridhar Sadasivan In English : Sumant Srivathsan
“Here! Over here!” I yelled at the top of my voice. “I don’t know” Ranjani said. She straightened and started to close the refrigerator. “No! Don’t go! I’m in here, why won’t someone rescue me? Amma! Ahhh…” I sat bolt upright in bed, suddenly awake. My face was dripping with sweat. “Hey, Latha! What happened?” Raghu switched on the light by the bed. “Was it a nightmare?” Where am I? What just happened? I don’t understand. I clenched my fists, pressed them into the bed and sat up straight. I ran my hand over my sweat-soaked face. Raghu went into the kitchen and got me a glass of water. I drank slowly, and splashed a little onto my face. “Are you OK?” Raghu asked, holding my hands. “Hmm,” I said, standing. I walked into the bathroom and turned the tap on. I collected the cold water in my cupped hands and washed my face. I went back out and put on my winter coat. “I’m going out for a walk, can you please watch the baby?” “It’s very cold outside. Do you have to go now?” “I’m feeling claustrophobic. I need some air. Please.” “All right, I’ll watch the baby. Be careful. Don’t go too far” Raghu said. “Take your cellphone.” I picked up the phone from the bed and walked out slowly. I shut the front door and wrapped the scarf over my ears. It was a very cold night, but not unusually cold for December in America. It must have been about 1 A.M. The streets were empty; the neighbors were probably asleep. I started to walk, following the sidewalk without really caring about where I was heading. My heart ached indescribably and tears flowed uncontrollably from my eyes. “What’s the matter? Why are you like this?” I remembered Amma asking over the phone from India. “ Is there a problem? Is Raghu disrespectful? Is he beating you? Abusing you? Whatever it is, tell me, Latha.” “No, Amma.” “He doesn’t buy you what you want?”
Victim By Shridhar Sadasivan In English : Sumant Srivathsan
“Amma, I work. I’m quite able to get myself anything I want,” I snapped. “Any bad habits? Cigarettes, booze, something like that?” “No.” “Then what exactly is the problem? You have a good husband, a son. What more could you ask for?” Amma’s list of spousal problems is very limited. “Amma, I feel like he doesn’t really like me, you know.” “Why do you say that?” “Um…” What could I tell her ? How could I tell her? “Latha, you need to stop imagining things. You have a good life. Don’t ruin it.” “No, Amma. He barely even shows affection. It’s been several months since we’ve been intimate.” “Latha! That’s how men are. This is not a movie – you’re not going to be romanced at the drop of a hat.” Amma was clearly annoyed. “You’re a woman. You should know how to be content.” “. . .” “Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill. This is not an issue at all.” What does Amma mean? Does she mean I’m being desperate? It felt like someone spat in my face. My body shook with humiliation, and I couldn’t talk anymore. I’d been married less than two years. I’m like any other young woman, with dreams and desires all my own. Ours is an arranged marriage. After an intense process of screening and evaluation, my parents picked Raghu as the ideal groom for their only daughter. At the time, Raghu was in America, and I was in India. We’d accepted our parents’ choice based on photographs, then the families met and finalized the proposal. Raghu seemed like everything I had expected in a husband. “You’re incredibly lucky; this guy is so handsome!” My friend Bhuvana teased me.
Victim By Shridhar Sadasivan In English : Sumant Srivathsan
Between the engagement ceremony and the wedding, Raghu and I met online frequently, chatted, flirted and romanced. It was a heady time, filled with dreams of a married life; a life filled with love and romance, the sort only seen in Mani Rathnam3 films. My wedding had been a lifelong ambition for my parents. When it happened, it was the talk of the town. Everything was fine when I moved to America after the wedding. Raghu took very good care of me, never raised his voice, and patiently helped me as I slowly adjusted to living in America. He helped with everything from household chores to teaching me to drive, always with unwavering courtesy and patience. “Our son-in-law is the best, ” Appa4 would proudly say to friends and family. One would be hard pressed to find fault with Raghu. While everything looked fine on the outside, my own view was quite different. Even on our wedding night, something seemed to be missing, though I couldn’t put my finger on it. The whole thing felt mechanical. I didn’t know out what to expect in the first place. The experience was completely new to me, so couldn’t figure out what was missing. Who could I ask? I had no one. I convinced myself that this was how things were supposed to be. As time passed, I could clearly sense something was indeed missing. How can I explain it? I couldn’t tell whether Raghu’s behavior toward me was out of love, or mere courtesy. I don’t think he ever experiences a single emotion in our relationship that I experience, be it desire, passion, or anxiety. Not just in bed, but even the little things: a kiss after returning from work, a symbolic touch that would tell me that he loves me and wants me, holding hands while watching television, snuggling on the couch, an arm around my shoulders while walking on the streets, a surprise hug from behind. The little things that would show directly and physically to my body and, in turn, to my soul, that he is mine. Nothing. It feels like he considers our life together as some sort of obligation. Once in a blue moon, we have sex. It feels monotonous, almost robotic. He rarely even touches me at other times. I wonder what is bothering him. “Were you in love with someone before we got married? You can tell me,” I openly asked him once. “Don’t joke, Latha. No I wasn’t. There’s nothing of the sort,” he replied. Maybe he is just not attracted to me, I thought. “I’m fat, right?” My voice quivered as my self-esteem disappeared. “I’m not as slim and sexy as all those other girls.” “No, Latha, that’s not true at all.” The standard response. 3 4
Mani Rathnam – Famous Indian film maker, known for his excellent portrayal of romance Appa – Father in Tamil
Victim By Shridhar Sadasivan In English : Sumant Srivathsan
It feels like he doesn’t think I am the right match for him. If he’s not attracted to me at all, then why did he marry me? At least If I knew what is wrong with me, I’d find a way to change myself. When I try to talk to him about it, he pretends that all is well, and nothing is wrong. Once the baby was born, it was as if a duty had been fulfilled. There is absolutely no romance. Every night is a struggle. I feel like the man in my bed beside me is many miles away, out of my reach. I never find the courage to reach across those two feet separating us and touch him. There is a constant fear of being rejected. Shame and the fear of embarrassment gnaw at me. I have no memory of him ever making the first move. I had everything, yet I had nothing. I began to lose interest in everything around me. Confusion and anger became my daily companions. At work, Ranjani noticed and I felt I had no choice but to talk to her. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” Ranjani began. “You’re a bit old-fashioned.” “What?” I wasn’t expecting that. “Look at you. I don’t think you’re adventurous.” “I don’t understand.” “I mean in bed.” “. . .” “Guys these days, get bored easily. They need fun, you see, Variety. You need to experiment Latha ” She giggled and she pushed a few DVDs into my hands. I watched them rather reluctantly. That night, when I put my arms around Raghu, he grumbled, “I have a headache. Give me some room please.” Then he turned away from me. Overcome by defeat and despair, I burst into tears. Not only I am unable to find a solution, I did not even have a clue what the problem is. “You have a baby now. Don’t make this a big issue. This is not important.” Amma’s voice echoed in my head.
Victim By Shridhar Sadasivan In English : Sumant Srivathsan
Last month, I finally got an answer to all my questions. That was an unforgettable Sunday. Raghu was out for a walk with the baby. He had forgotten to log out of his email, and the particular message that was open caught my eye. It was an unexpected, unimaginable shock to me. Dear Raghu, It has been nearly two years since we last met. I can’t wait to see you again. I am hoping that you will at least reply to this email. Until we see each other again in person, I’m leaving you with a few pictures. Kisses, CJ My fingers trembled, and my heart started to skip beats. I hurriedly scrolled down to the end of the email. There were pictures of a man shirtless, flaunting like a Bollywood star and smiling seductively! I felt a shock run through my body. My head spun and I felt the floor give way beneath my feet. I confronted Raghu at the door when he returned from his walk. After several moments of silence, he confessed. “I’m sorry, Latha. I’m gay. I am not attracted to women. I have always preferred men, even when I was much younger. I tried my best to explain it to my parents, but they were totally unable to understand. ‘What would the world think? You are our only son. You have to get married. What would happen to our family?’ It was a terrible confrontation. My mother threatened to kill herself if I didn’t get married. I couldn’t bear to see my parents in that state. After resisting my parents for several years, after all that struggle, I finally gave in. I’m not trying to justify what I did; I’m just telling you what happened. It was not my intention to ruin your life. However, I swear that since our marriage, I have not been with anyone else. I have no peace in my life either. I am a victim of my own circumstances, living a life of obligation to others.” Raghu hung his head, overcome by shame and despair. I could barely contain my fury. My blood boiled. The sting of betrayal stabbed at my chest. I cried and cried and cried. I did not speak a word to him for three days. “Don’t talk to me. I don’t want to hear a thing.” I didn’t understand half the things Raghu had said to me. I didn’t feel like talking to him about it. I can’t discuss things like this with Amma and Appa, which left Ranjani as my only confidant. Ranjani provided sympathy, but she didn’t know much about this either. She recommended that I
Victim By Shridhar Sadasivan In English : Sumant Srivathsan
see a counselor. Despite my reservations, I couldn’t see an alternative, and after much hesitation, I finally met with a counselor. “I don’t want to stir up the past, and I’m willing to forgive him. Can we start our life together all over again?” I asked her. “Hmm, yes. The two of you can live together, but you have to figure out what kind of life it will be.”
“What should I do get him attracted to me? I am willing to do anything “ I asked. She held my hand and said, “Latha, I can understand your pain, and you must understand that this is not your fault, there is nothing wrong with you. I spoke to Raghu. It is obvious that he is not attracted to women at all. This is very natural, and you can’t do anything about it.” “But . . . how is this possible?” I was confused. “How can he be attracted to men, but not to women?” “OK, tell me why you are attracted to men,” the counselor asked. What an absurd question, I thought to myself. “I’m a woman, that’s why.” “Right, what kind of men do you like? Describe them.” “I like tall men, not too fat. I like them fit.” “You said you like men because you were a woman, so you must be attracted to short, pudgy men too, right? So why aren’t you?” That stumped me; I didn’t have an answer ready. “I don’t know, but that’s how it is. That’s what I like.” “Exactly! Attraction is purely natural. It’s not something we can control. We can’t even say why it happens like it does.” “. . .” After two or three sessions with the counselor, I slowly began to understand. The more I understood, the more I saw my life slipping out of my grasp.
Victim By Shridhar Sadasivan In English : Sumant Srivathsan
“I cannot make a decision for you, Latha. But if you wish, you can get a divorce and start a new life for yourself.” Although the counselor suggested it so easily, I cannot even begin to imagine a divorce. I was overcome with sorrow about my life, and I vented my anger at Raghu. “How could you do such a thing? Why did you have to wreck my life to pacify your parents? I am a victim of your mistake ” “I’m sorry, Latha. Forgive me.” ---The sidewalk had ended and I reached the main road. I sat down on a nearby bench. What should I do now? The more I think about it, the humiliation and the low self esteem I had suffered thinking there was something wrong with me, paled in comparison to the reality. At least there had been the hope of finding a way out, a hope that somehow I could change my figure, my appearance, my behavior, the hope of a happy and loving life with Raghu. Now it is quite clear that such a life is impossible. If we chose to separate, how do we explain it? I can’t tell Amma and Appa the truth, not at their age. It would destroy them altogether. Without telling her the details, I once told Amma that we are having problems and not getting along. “Oh no, Latha! Don’t even say such things! Your father will be heart broken if your marriage fails. You are a woman, you should learn to compromise. You should get on with your life.” Amma sounded distraught. Ranjani agreed with Amma. “You can get a divorce, but what next? Divorced with a child, a second marriage, these are very complicated things back home. You don’t have siblings and your aging parents need your support, they are not in a position to support you. Think about all of that carefully. I wouldn’t make a hasty decision ” “I understand, Ranjani, but I have no interest in my life. How much longer can I live like this?” “Why do you feel that way? You have your baby, and Raghu still cares for you. He will keep you well ” “Aiyo! That just makes it worse! Raghu should not just care for me, he should love me. Don’t you get it?” I broke down in tears. “A husband-wife relationship needs to be one of love, romance and passion Ranjani. You are married. You know how it is. What we expect and experience for our partners, is something very special and very unique. That is not something we can experience from any other relationship. I have never experienced that emotional bond in my
Victim By Shridhar Sadasivan In English : Sumant Srivathsan
marriage and will never experience it. Living with Raghu is no different than living with a caring roommate. Even our baby, who should have been born out of our love, is just an obligation fulfilled. It’s all a charade, a fake family being kept together for the sake of others.” Neither Ranjani, or Amma, or even Raghu, can fully comprehend what I am going through. It is probably easier for them to suggest solutions because they don’t understand. I now understood what my dream meant. Amma: “You’re the woman. You must compromise, you should keep the marriage alive.” Ranjani: “Latha, you have to somehow manage, if not for you, for the child.” Raghu: “I will take care of you, Latha. Why are you so worried?” The idea of living my life in this farce, like a machine, made me choke with anger. Why should this be my fate? What have I done to deserve this? I wish I could rewind my life back a couple of years and set things right. Oh God! My life is my own prison and I am trapped here with no hope. My head felt like it would explode. I wanted to scream. I wiped my tears away, but they continued to flow. ---From Daily News: New York, Monday, Dec 17: A young Indian woman jumped in to the Hudson River along with her 10 month-old infant. It is believed that she jumped as a result of severe emotional distress from a troubled marriage. “No!” I cried out as I awoke. I picked up my sleeping child and held him tightly. “This is not how I want my life to end,” I told myself. I slowly rocked the baby to sleep again, and picked up the telephone and dialed. “Hello Latha! This is a surprise! Isn’t it too early for you to call?” It was Appa who answered the phone. “I felt like talking to you, Appa. Is Amma there? Turn on the speakerphone; I need to talk to both of you about something very important.” ---( This story and all characters are fictional.)