After years of domestic abuse, this 29-year-old not only decides to break
out of it but also finds a way to be independent while fighting those mindsets
that subjugate women in all societies.
“I did not know I
could be anything apart from a daily wager, just like my parents,” says
29-year-old Sashwati (name changed to protect identity) At Ambadi village in
rural Bhandara district of Maharashtra, almost every other person is an
agricultural worker. “Some have land. The majority don’t. The ones who don’t
have land work for those who have,” she explains.
Sashwati went to
school. She completed 12th standard and was married immediately after. “It did
not matter that I finished my secondary schooling. I was not allowed to go to
college because it was at a distance. There is a lot of fear about young,
unmarried girls stepping out of their homes. And so, I was married off at 21,”
she says with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “My parents thought that marriage
would protect me and help me have a small world of my own. Little did any of us
that it would actually push me towards my own destruction,” her voice trails
off and she can continue no longer.
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“It was painful. I
thought I will get a lot of love and respect after marriage. I was let down
repeatedly. I was abused day after day. Suddenly home was no longer what I
expected it to be. I was scared, stunned that this could happen to me,” her
voice carries the weight of pain and betrayal. Sashwati never shared a word
about the abuse and beatings at home. She never told her sisters or her
brothers that she was unhappy. Her in-laws kept torturing her for dowry. “I
almost started living with the pain and humiliation. I was unhappy but I knew
there was no way out,” she accepts.
After the birth of
her first child, she hoped to take refuge in the new relationship. She also
hoped that her husband would change his behaviour. But it was not to be so. The
violence continued and grew worse since her in-laws knew she could be
threatened with her son. “When my son was 3 years old, they beat me up so badly
that I had blood streaming down my head. My son saw it and was scared of even
approaching me. That was the moment I realised I am not in this alone. He would
be suffering with me. I picked up my child and went to the nearest police
station to file a complaint against my husband and in- laws. That night, I went
to live with my sister. I told her the entire story and spoke to my brother. My
husband and I were called to the Nagpur police station the next week. In the
presence of the police and my brothers, he threatened to kill me if I went
ahead with the complaint,” she narrates.
Sashwati refused to
give in to her husband’s threats. “After a point, I stopped caring about what
he could do to me. I had to make him stop somehow. I knew I had to live for my
son.” She returned home and became a target of gossip by her neighbours. Even
her sisters-in-law appeared hostile when they learnt she would never go back to
her husband.
“They were afraid that I would claim my share of the property. I
had no such plans. My parents are so poor that they have barely anything to
stake my claim on,” she shares with a laugh. Isolated in her own home, Sashwati
decided to work twice as hard as before. “To forget my past and to earn so that
no one would blame me for being a burden on my brothers,” she sighs.
She went back to
doing what her parents did – long and hard hours of sowing and harvesting in
the fields, under the merciless sun, for Rs 100 a day.
It was around this
time that Vaishali, a Magic Bus staff, came to visit her house. She was
enrolling children on the Magic Bus programme and asked if Sashwati’s niece
would like to join them for a session. Her brother wasn’t willing to send his
daughter out to play with people he barely knew. Vaishali assured him that it
would be safe for his daughter and invited him to come for a session too.
Sashwati appealed to her brother to let her niece participate and promised she
would watch over.
During the two hours
that she watched her niece play with 24 other young children, Sashwati
momentarily forgot the nightmarish life she had lived in the last several
years.“I laughed. I cheered. I listened. I realised how little of this I did in
the last eight years of my life,” she shares.
Her interest in the
sessions and about those who conducted them (the Community Youth Leaders or
CYLs) brought her to Priyanka Patil, another staff in charge of mentoring those
who deliver these sessions. Priyanka was looking to involve more enthusiastic
Community Youth Leaders, as the number of children attending the sessions grew
each month. Sashwati volunteered. When Priyanka told her about a five-day-long
offsite for the training of CYLs, she was perplexed. She shared with her family
and they reminded her that she was a mother of a five-year-old. “You can’t go
just like that. Who will take care of your son?” they asked her. Sashwati
prevailed with them. “It was an opportunity for me to do something that I
wanted to. I did not want to let go of it,” she says.
Her family
supported her decision grudgingly; and Sashwati found herself on board her
first journey to a place far away from home, with people who were as similar as
they were different. “It was all so new and exciting,” her voice quivers with
excitement.
Things started
falling into place faster than she had assumed. Months after she started her
work as a Community Youth Leader, she was spotted by the Programme Manager,
delivering a session to children. “Her confidence and enthusiasm drew our
attention,” says Prashant, recollecting the first time he saw her. Later he
came to know all about Sashwati. “They knew my financial problems. They were
happy with my work and so they offered me a job: I could be a Youth Mentor at
Magic Bus!” she beams.
“As young girls, we
never had the freedom to step outside our homes. We moved between school and
home. We were asked not to loiter, not to be loud. It was almost as if we
learnt to remain unheard. Magic Bus is breaking this mindset and I am happy to
be doing that for a living. I understand the value of helping each girl to grow
up to be resilient and independent,” her resolute words linger on as she takes
a brief pause. “More than anything, this job has helped me win back my
self-esteem. I am no longer destined to live anonymously. I have a name within
my community. I am not the subject of pity or derision. I am loved by my
children and more by my son. He says he wants to be a District Magistrate one
day and not let me work at all,” she laughs.
“I am 29 years old
but my life seems to have just begun,” she sound buoyed with newfound energy
and hope.
She was quiet for the longest time.
Till a point when,
Her unsaid words gathered and
poured
Out.
Washing out all:
A clean slate, once again.
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