ASHA

The past few weeks have given me a deeper cognisance of what it takes to belong to a certain gender, community, income group and country; all at the same time. India, a country that takes immense pride in its diversity and religions that worship Goddesses are in reality a cobweb of inequalities, injustice, misogyny, and insensitivity woven together.

My husband and his business partner’s family used to live together when they started a small company in 2008. An old man used to help them with basic cleaning and was provided with food, shelter, and wages. ’Asha’, his young daughter came to live with them as a 12 year old in hope to have a better life. She never liked her village where girls are supposed to dress in a certain way, are not allowed to study or work, are married off at a tender age of 16 and beaten up by husbands for meaningless domestic issues.

She had a fierce, independent streak even when she had come for the first time to the unknown city of Ahmedabad. The progressive family she grew up with, was a stark contrast to the society she was a part of until then. Avinash, my husband’s partner is an ex-army businessman who efficiently takes care of his home, son and a pet. This is not a common practice amongst Indian men even in 2018. Madhu, his wife is a senior commercial pilot who magically balances her work, family, and social life. The number of middle-aged, married working women in such industries in India is much lesser in comparison with its western counterparts.

The couple sponsored her education, extra classes, and vocational courses that she was interested in. They groomed her to be a fine young woman; well dressed, well spoken and ready to take on the world. Other than her old father, Asha was not close to anyone in her family. They were against most of her decisions and choices. Youngest of 5 sisters, Asha, was clear about the kind of life she wanted. Knowing this and troubled by this, her family members kept trying to interfere and forced her either to get married or to go back to their village. She is from a region in Rajasthan where honour killings are as common as childbirth. Rajput (the warrior) community, like some other communities, can compromise lives but not self-respect (read sexist, male ego).

In 2016, Madhu had a better career opportunity in Dubai so the family decided to move there for 4–5 years. Knowing Asha’s family, they wanted to take her along so she could continue living a normal life. Its then her family started visiting and pestering her to come back to their village. When she didn’t give in they emotionally blackmailed her by using her old, helpless father. Her ailing father also said that he may be able to live for another year if he sees her ‘settled’. Like many other Indian girls, Asha gave up. They had chosen a family from the same community. However, she clearly mentioned the terms she could not compromise on to her fiancé and to her surprise they were agreed upon. Little did she know it was nothing but a trap.

Married at 22, Asha was forced to slog at the farms in extreme heat, had to sit on the floor while hosting guests, had to cover herself from head to toe and alienate from friends. Her mobile phone was confiscated and she never had any money. She couldn’t study or work and was literally house arrested. She was made to live in a filthy room with rats and cockroaches running around just so her cruel sister in law and her evil husband could keep an eye on her and torture her. Whenever she tried to talk to her husband he would get angry and leave the house. His family would then torture her more, both mentally and emotionally. She was also sent to her husband’s village for 2 months where things were worse, so much that she would rarely see the light of the day.

She couldn’t take the misery any longer and one day decided to run away. Knowing her family will neither listen to her nor support her, she contacted us somehow and asked if she could live with us. She reached my place on the day next to the much-hyped ‘International Women’s Day’. Clad in an attire that functioned like a burqa, she stood at my door with a small bag carrying her essentials. I had never seen her so dull and weak. What can circumstances do to people, I thought! Referring to her clothes, her first sentence was, “I just want to get out of this traditional prison.” She freshened up and changed while I fixed some tea for both of us. We then sat down and I heard her entire story. I was surprised to see her composure while narrating the trauma she had gone through. In the same calm manner she confessed that she had considered committing suicide, but fortunately behaved like herself and chose otherwise.

She seemed quite clear and determined about not looking back, yet I asked her if she was ready to fight and undergo a long, tedious process. A woman filing for divorce was a concept unheard of amongst her folks, ‘How can a woman decide to leave a man, she either suffers or burns alive, nothing in between!’ We found a family lawyer who was willing to explain and help with the legal procedure.

A woman daring to improve her life is so rare in this community that it becomes a source of recreation for the families involved. They spend all their time in locating all the people helping that woman, creating a scene at their doors at midnight, walking into their house any time of day, every day of the week and threatening them to stop interfering in their ‘family matters’. ‘Family’, a concept volatile in its purpose for people living under the same roof.

Looking at the behaviour of her own family, we thought it was in the best interest to file a police complaint. From other trivial matters in our locality, I knew it was under the jurisdiction of Vastrapur Police Station. Asha and I reached their the next morning. The sight of their ‘women’s cell’ was somehow a relief. I thought she could be in safe hands there in case they keep pestering her at my place. We went to the complaint room where three men were talking, they looked blank on seeing us, as if two young women approaching police for an issue was the last thing they expected. Even before we could complete our brief, they concluded it was a ‘family matter’ and that I should not intervene. When I said the girl is in danger and needs protection, they said the case is not in their jurisdiction. We then went to Sola Police Station as advised and heard the same thing,’The case is not in our jurisdiction’. When I insisted that Vastrapur station said the same and asked us to approach Sola, they were ready to listen. I narrated the whole story in detail to a female cop while two male cops sitting in the same room were eavesdropping and uttering something we could not really comprehend. Asha spoke and added details in order to convince them that the matter was serious indeed. She was asked to write an application with all the details before and after her escape. She obeyed. They said that she could dial ‘100’ in case of an emergency and that the application would take time to proceed.

After 4 days of her family trying to convince her that they are on her side, they asked Asha to meet her husband once before she goes ahead with divorce. It seemed fair, hence she agreed. Her family was to bring her husband to our place the next evening, and Asha was supposed to meet her lawyer the same afternoon. The first meeting is usually longer, there’s more to explain and understand. Asha got late and her family reached my place before time, without the husband. I called Asha to inform the same, she would have reached home in another 20–30 minutes anyway. But in desperation that was too quick for me to decode, her family left saying that everyone will meet at Asha’s father’s place, including Asha. I was neither comfortable with the decision nor the hastiness in which it was taken. Perhaps Asha could not read between the lines, but I had a reason to worry for sure. Three hours passed, Asha didn’t come back. I called her around 8:00 pm, no response! 9:00 pm, 9:30 pm, 10:00 pm, no response! I called her again in morning, no response!

It was time to panic. I reached Sola Police station where I had filed Asha’s complaint. The moment I entered the room, I received a missed call from Asha. I called her back immediately and she sounded peculiarly normal and spoke, “I am at my husband’s place and I’m fine. My father explained ‘things’ to me and I understood. I am going to stay here for a while, everything is fine.” She sounded like a falsely accused prisoner who had given up all hopes and confessed . My feet froze. These were not her words. This was not the Asha we knew. There were countless ‘ifs and buts’ in my mind, my scared to death mind.

I called Avinash and asked him to ensure whether it was indeed Asha or her sister pretending to be Asha. To my horrors, it was Asha, cold and numb. Avinash said whatever he should have said, she listened normally. He concluded, “Asha, this is unexpected and unlike you, beyond our reasoning. If you have been forced and threatened to recite this story to us and those people are around you, answer in a simple yes or no.”. She said ‘yes’.

Now that her own family was with her and she was not in a position to speak the truth, it would have seemed like we were interfering beyond our limits. I left from the police station.

Avinash reached Ahmedabad the night after. I went with him to Sola Police station the next day. This time it was an Inspector from the same Rathod (Rajput) community that Asha belonged to. After listening to half the incident he intervened, “I appreciate the fact that you both are trying to help this girl but since I am also a Rathod, I know a Rajput girl will kill herself but not complain to the police.” I and Avinash sat stunned, gazing at him, then at each other. He then took more interest in my surname, where I belonged to and similar details than the girl in question. I answered as briefly as I could and came back to the topic. He continued, “See madam, I know your intention is good but you have to understand that her family is with her and she herself stated that she is fine. After all, she is with her husband, a place where she belongs, you and ‘me’ can’t do anything now.” I wanted to scream but I didn’t. I gathered myself and pleaded,”Sir, I understand what you are saying, but it would have convinced me were I the only one to complain about it in the first place. It was the girl who came here on the first day and wrote an application that clearly states that her family has never supported her. They forced her to get married, they forced her to suffer and not raise a voice and now they are forcing her to do things beyond my belief. She has written that she is in danger and that even on previous occasions her real sister’s husband (name mentioned) has displayed evil behaviour. The very purpose of filing this complaint was to let you know that she needs help, in a way as legal as possible. How can she be denied that help now?”

Inspector repeated the same sentences that he had said before and added that the area her husband lives in, ‘Vatwa’, is a highly criminal area. Without realising he also blurted, “Even the cops in that area can’t do anything if approached by her.” I expressed concern, “The area being criminal is all the more a reason for us and you to worry.” Avinash took over,”Sir what according to you can be done now? If cops agree to approach her, we can also send a woman from an NGO to talk to her in private and know her actual state.” Inspector said that could be done, but it’s our local area’s police station that would proceed henceforth.

We both left for Thaltej Police station, it was locked from outside. I took the PI’s number from a fruit juice seller outside it and called him. He said they all are busy since 2 days with arrangements for Amit Shah, President of the ruling party from home state of Gujarat. I went again the next day, it was still locked. I tried my luck at 7:00 pm the third time, and could see the room was lit from a distance. I entered the room and waited for others’ matters to finish. In the meantime, I saw that the writer had an i-phone thrice the amount of his expected monthly salary. Once done, I showed them a copy of the original application signed by Asha that was received, signed and stamped by Sola Police station. I requested that she needs urgent help now that she has been taken away forcefully.

It wasn’t shocking any longer that he repeated the same things as the previous inspector at Sola station. I still insisted,”Sir, I understand but the truth is that this girl will either commit suicide or her own family will kill her. Since the police already knows such an event is likely, should it not be your obvious next step to intervene now, approach her and ensure her safety without wasting any more time?” He explained to me,”You will not understand the real depth of this problem, it is of social nature. You are educated and modern so these intricacies are beyond your reasoning.” I wanted to respond by saying that even educated people live in a society and not on top of a mountain peak and that we face issues too. Instead, I said, “We also live in a society and the very reason I am sitting here is to ensure the basic freedom and rights of an adult woman, held legal by our law.”

He looked irritated. He asked the second fellow to write an account of the episode and responded to me, “You are asking us to approach her, how do we do that? Do you have an address or phone number?” I said I can explain the area but I don’t have a detailed address. I gave them her mobile number and suggested they could trace it. He replied by saying that tracing is not done for such small cases and that they can’t do anything without the address. ‘Small cases, small case of a woman’s life.’ I maintained my cool,” It’s obvious that her mobile phone has been taken away and they are not letting her contact anyone. We are doing our part, the ball is in your court. She has also mentioned her husband’s and brother-in-law’s names and professions, so how difficult can it be to locate these people in a particular area for the police? ‘Criminals with lesser information can be caught but victims and her perpetrators cannot be found’, I thought to myself! He suggested that the formality was done, I could leave and that they would proceed only if I give them an address.

Two days later I called this cop, Mr. Ravi Prajapati, to check on the status. He asked me to tell Asha that she can call on 100 if there is a problem. When I said that her husband always answers and doesn’t let us speak with her, he hung up. In another meeting at Thaltej Chowki, Mr. Ravi was not just sympathetic towards but also defending the husband’s family, in our face! We had no option but to find and have a senior police officer involved to order the junior officer to take some action. He then called her husband who informed that Asha has been taken to their village. (Village where anything is possible) Mr. Ravi called us back and explained, “How will the poor husband take a leave from work to get his wife back from the village”. The next day Asha called Avinash and said that she received a call from Thaltej police station for basic details, and that she specified the forceful circumstances under which she was brought there. We are now waiting for the police to get her here and set her free.

I can’t stop recollecting how we were constantly warned by the cops against dealing with communities like ‘Rajputs’, when in fact all the cops we dealt with had a highly patriarchal mindset.

I would have said that ‘Rajputs’ are ‘warriors’ so is it not obvious for Asha to fight back even if everything boils down to her caste? But I held back. Our doubtful history says that very few women fought like Rani Laxmibai. They had to make do with competitors as ‘other wives’ and self-immolate if their husbands lost a battle. Killing themselves was the only way to protect their honour; community honour that is more significant than human life.

Fiction or non-fiction, the story and movie based on ‘Rani Padmavati’ is not just a reflection of our unjust history but also a mirror to our social reality in 2018.

P.S.- ‘Asha’ means ‘Hope’.