Morning of this city begins with Sound of brooms’ friction with floors, streets, woman cleaning the roads with water. Men return from morning walk-giggling and gossiping and discussing politics. The morning two tier cities are still patriarchal .Because women do the chores and men go for healthy morning walks and they don’t take their wives along with them, because then who will do the cleaning of the houses ,who will prepare the breakfast? The sound of birds, the glow of morning sun loses their sheen in midst of all this, here women will not go for morning walk, do yoga, take medicines or drink milk till they fail to wake up in the morning to prepare breakfast, or fall ill and doctor instructs them to do so.
Mr Rajneesh is one such man living in the two-tier north Indian city which is hoping to get its first metro (in how many years, nobody knows).He wakes up every morning at 7:30,his wife serves him bed tea, till he goes to loo to relive himself, he will keep sipping tea and his wife will revolve around him. She keeps revolving around, till he leaves for his school, Mr. Rajneesh teaches physics in school. Men might boast of their physical strength but when it comes to daily chores nobody is as weak as them. In Indian households the thin, pale homemaker works twice hard as his husband.
His wife Ms Mamata is submissive, stoic character like most of her counterparts. She was very talented as child who loved freedom but all was lost after she tied knot. She is now in her early fifties-going through menopause, hormonal imbalance has taken toll over her mental and physical well being. The irregular menstrual cycle irritates her, sometimes the flow is heavy and sometimes a sanitary pad is wasted white. The pain at times is insurmountable. But all that Mr. Rajneesh has done is got some medicines for her. He instructs Mamata do eat well, drink milk, take rest of course once he has eaten, once he has been served and takes rest. The household work, loneliness has made her feel neglected like never before.
Somehow her menopause has been the moment of agency for her. There is change in her. She feels cheated by her husband and also her god whom she has worshiped half of her life. Every night she thinks to go far away from this life and one night she decides, she goes to her room picks up few sheets and pen and scribbles something.
The next morning Mr Rajneesh wakes up-at usual time 7:30 am, with his usual timid ways (fearing the morning has arrived).His growing age has added to his laziness. This banality is coinciding with some unusualness. The broom sound was missing, missing was incense sticks aroma that has filled his nostrils for now almost 30 years. And most importantly his tea was missing. He calls his wife, but gets no response .After waiting till 8:00, he decides to get up, he rushes straight to kitchen and then searches everywhere in the house, but Mamata is missing. Still he is not worried about Mamata but his tea. With lines on temple and shirking nose he makes tea himself, while he is sipping tea and holding biscuit in his left hand his eyes rests on the paper kept on the slab. He picks up the paper, with haste and impatience.
It is signed under his wife’s name-well it’s the letter from Mamata to his husband
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Good morning Mr Rajneesh, Even if you did not have the one. My letter might be the surprise and cause of anger to you especially when you made morning tea yourself(if you have).For a few months I have been feeling uncomfortable in your home, I feel like stranger, this is the first time in the marriage of thirty years ,I felt this way. There was something missing. I think I wasted my entire life in performing my duties in kitchen and bedroom. I wasted my life in rearing your kids, I wasted it in temples, worshipping god who did nothing to awaken me from slumber
Do you remember I was so happy when you took this house in my name? But I was so ignorant in behaving that way when I came to know you did not take home in my name because you loved me or you wanted me to be the leader of the home, it’s because home loans in a woman’s name offer rebate. For years I lived in the house that was in my name but I was never the decision maker. You laughed at me while I watched daily soaps or astrological shows in afternoon hours. You also ridiculed me for worshipping god. You said “Mamata see all this, don’t you have better things to see and watch”.
Yes I did not have better things to do or see, my parents never inculcated the habit of reading or doing something worthwhile apart from obeying the husband’s orders and keeping his house.
Whenever you returned from school, you just took remote in your hand and watched Television without asking how was I or how did the day go. You watched News hour debates in full volume that made my blood pressure go high. In our society news, newspaper, new hour debates are for men only. While you watched TV you did not respond to whatever I said. I served dinner; you did not thank or show gratitude, you behaved as if I was your servant.
You were lazy, timid man, who did not have strength to keep his utensils in sink after eating food (may be your mother did not teach you).You did not wash your undergarments after taking bathe. You could not get up early to help in chores even when I menstruated. You always shouted at me “why don’t you take medicines on time”. I ask you if I did not take why not you gave me on time. I used to get so tired throughout the day that I forgot to eat food or medicine on time. Your machismo was visible only when you were in bed with me. That was your manliness –your affection for me was always physical-love wasn’t there, because love is just not physical intimacy but respect and care.
Neither in my father’s house nor in yours I enjoyed or celebrated any festival. Like everything in this society even festival is also symbolism of patriarchy. Women get up early to clean the house; cook throughout the day sumptuous meal for people, unnecessary guests, every one celebrates, eats the grand feast. The person who eats the last and the least is woman of the house because of tiredness. If house is ruled by the patriarch like you then woman works alone, nobody helps her in her chores.
You were vocal about women empowerment only outside homes, in your lectures in school. You believed in gender equality only when you were outside the home. Your high sounding lectures to people on misogyny were violence for me, you never assaulted me physically but your double standards were violence for me. You talked of equity, empowerment of women who were not of your house. In B grade towns feminism still is inside lecture theatre or theatrical performance but not in lives of woman who are suffers.
Since childhood I wanted to be free, but I moved from one cage to another after marriage. Marriage destroyed all my fantasies of love and companionship. My menopause might have been frustrating .it seems that I have become like careless teenage girl who cannot carry herself properly during menstruation cycle. I spoil the bed sheet, in morning no matter how weak I feel I have to clean these stains. Of course I could have never asked you to clean it. You wouldn’t have done this dirty job ever. During night I start sweating, I become restless but I have no one to talk to. Besides bringing me trouble, my menopause has transformed me; it has forced me to think to about freedom, individuality something I dreamt since my childhood. I want to free myself. I am leaving.
Once Yours
Mamata.
Nice..
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