Simbly Bored

A bit of context: a vaddanam is a gold belt. See here [google.com]. The real post begins below…

Do you ever have any eye-opening conversations with strangers on the train? I had one a little while ago. This post has been in my list of drafts for a while now and I almost forgot about it until today. I think it’s time the poor thing saw light of day (and felt the pleasurable crawl of search engine spiders on its body. Heh! Heh!).

So, anyway, I struck up a conversation with this woman sitting next to me in the train. Rather, she struck up a conversation with me.

It all started with a simple question. She admired my toe rings (a very fancy looking gift from a friend) and wanted to know if they hurt when I wear closed toed shoes. I said I take them off when I wear closed toed shoes. I wore toe rings with closed toed shoes one time and swore never again. As aghast as grandmas might be to hear it, it was The Hero himself who pried the $^@# things off my feet and said I didn’t have to wear any of the signs of married-ness that cause me discomfort.

I’ll give a moment for the ladies to go “Awww!”.

The poor woman listened to this in silence and said, I told him that my toe rings hurt but he said I had to keep them on. And she said that he said he felt bad that I took them off even for a little while to put a bit of medicine on the cuts they caused… I just wanted to give him one tight slap. Yes, violence. I know. ”I suppose he doesn’t have any sisters and so he can’t understand these things.”, I said. I was thinking far less charitable things, but I didn’t think it was right to say them all aloud. “Yes!”, her face brightened. She thought the root cause of all her troubles was her husband not having any sisters.

Sensing a bit of sympathy, the woman opened up a little more. She talked a little about the clothes she was supposed to wear (they live in the US) - only kurtis with collar-type necks. A dupatta with jeans and a kurti (I carry one to myself but only to use as a pollution shield). She’s only allowed to wear “kurtis” that reach the knee but not short ones (can someone tell the idiot they’re called kurtas not kurtis?). Only turtlenecks or collared shirts. White Nike shoes most of the time. No short sleeved t-shirts or kurtas. Only 3/4 or full length sleeves allowed. Of course, saris in all their midriff revealing glory are completely acceptable as are short sleeved salwar kameez. The woman sighed. “They said I don’t know what’s right in the US and I’m being arrogant when I don’t listen to what they know is right”, she said. “People at work make fun of my clothes”, she added a little sadly. The bangles must never come off. The father-in-law wants her to wear a bindi the size the mother-in-law wears.

I wanted this woman to ask her husband what he thinks would happen if she took the damned things off. She said she did ask. He only said it mattered to him that she wears them all. I gained respect for the woman after that. And lost a little more for this unknown man. Does he know what they signify? I doubt it. I’m sure he only wants her to wear them because mommy does.

The husband wants her to address him the way his mother addresses his father. She’s never allowed to take her husband’s name. Ever. He doesn’t like it. She wakes up every f***ing day at 5:30am to cook for him and earlier than that on weekends to cook “specials”. Not a single day does he help her. I said nothing. What could I say?

She asked me a question then, “Do you have kids?” I said we don’t, yet.”Do you want a boy or a girl when you have children?” I said I don’t want to wish for things I can’t control. And that’s when she said, even softer, “I hope my first baby’s a girl. I want more than one child and if it’s a boy, I might have to stop after one. See, my husband’s an only child and he thinks one is enough.”

I heard enough. Enough to make me sick. The woman of course, believes that her husband and in-laws are nice people. Except that they’re a little “particular”. For all I know they could be nice people and I don’t want to judge people based on a one-sided account from the daughter-in-law. But I know these people. Or people just like them. We all know people just like them. Relatively well off families. Educated parents and son. People who would be dismayed to know that I think they’re treating this woman like a piece of furniture.

Look at how well they treat this girl! They bought her a diamond necklace and a vaddanam, didn’t they? They’re willing to let her study and/or work aren’t they? They want the best for her. They want her to be happy. All they want is to be able to lay down all the rules, set all the limits, decide what she wears, how she looks, what she studies,  when she studies, what she cooks, what she eats, where she goes, who she goes with. They’ll drive her wherever she wants to go. Why does she need a driver’s license? She doesn’t need to have opinions or think or even be a part of the decision making process.

She doesn’t get to decide how many babies to pop out of her body. And she’ll probably be the one who ends up having the “family planning operation” when the time is right. They’ll decide everything for her. All she has to do is look like Lakshmi, be as educated as Saraswati and stay the hell away from Sambhavi who might give her all sorts of dangerous ideas.

She wants to move back to India and live with the in-laws full time. “My mother-in-law and his grandmother will help me with the cooking everyday. At least I don’t have to do every single thing myself”, she said. But what about the clothes? “I don’t have to wear jeans or closed toed shoes in India. So the problem of dressing will go away.”

“What about the other problems?”, I wanted to ask. But I had the sense to keep quiet. She truly believes moving back to India and living with the in-laws is the magic silver bullet. Maybe it is. Who am I to judge? But if anyone tried controlling what I wear or what I think…

A diamond necklace and a vaddanam. Pah! Small price for a lifetime’s freedom. But no doubt, they’ll ensure she’s seen wearing them often enough…