The Rule Breakers

by Preeti Shenoy

  She hauled up her saree to her knees and stretched out her feet in front of Veda. It was not a request. It was an order.

  Veda’s cheeks burned as she set the tray aside and settled down by her mother-in-law’s feet. She was filled with self-loathing as she started massaging Padma Devi’s feet. She thought of the countless times that she had pressed her mother’s feet. But that was different. That was an act of love. Veda was more than happy to do that for her mother. Padma Devi’s plump, fleshy legs felt very different from her mother’s thin ones.

  ‘Little more pressure,’ said Padma Devi, as she sighed and leaned back.

  Veda quietly obliged, not knowing how to refuse.

  She did not look up at all and Padma Devi did not say a word either.

  After about twenty minutes, Padma Devi grunted, indicating that it was enough, and just like that, Veda was dismissed. Veda had never felt so humiliated in her whole life.

  She went to her room, threw herself on the bed, and started sobbing into the pillow. She cried for about twenty minutes, and then got up, washed her face and sat at her desk, acutely aware of each second that passed. She did not know when Padma Devi would next summon her. She tried to focus on her books, but all that came to her mind was Padma Devi’s angry face.

  ‘How could she? How could she?’ were the only thoughts that ran inside her head, on a loop.

  Her dignity had been torn to shreds. Padma Devi simply did not care about her feelings. Padma Devi was a bully. There was no doubt about that.

  What terrified Veda was the slow realisation that she simply did not have it in her to stand up to the bullying. She was a gutless wimp with no backbone at all.

  She thought of Suraj’s letter, and now the words ‘carve your own path’ seemed to leap out of the page, taunting her, mocking her and laughing at her.

  Chapter 12

  March 1996

  Pune

  Dearest, dearest Vidya,

  I am sorry for the long delay from my end.

  I haven’t been able to write earlier as I feel like a prisoner here. Things are terrible at my end, Vidya. Just terrible. I am writing to you from college, as I have come here to collect my hall tickets for my exams. I am quickly writing this to you before heading back home. I don’t feel comfortable writing to you from my home anymore. That is how bad the situation is.

  I am not permitted to study at the library in my college. I have to go straight home after college ends. My mother-in-law keeps track of when I return. Once I get home, my ‘housewifely duties’ start. I have to cut vegetables, knead the dough for rotis, make the dal, salad, all of it. I have to press her feet, make tea for her, and do everything else that she sets out for me.

  I am not able to study anymore, Vidya. As a result, my coursework is suffering and I am lagging behind. I haven’t turned in assignments, and I failed in almost all the papers in the mock exams. These are taken seriously in this college and are a good indicator of how you will perform in your finals.

  The lecturer called me aside and told me to focus on my studies. She asked if I was facing any problem. She said she had seen the marks from my previous papers, the exams I gave at Joshimath, and said that my performance has fallen steeply.

  How could I tell her about my MIL? I just kept quiet.

  I tried speaking to Bhuwan about it. I tried to tell him to discuss this with his mother. But he seems helpless. He says he will talk to her when the time is right.

  Do you know what she did a few weeks ago, Vidya? She yanked my hair and threw my books because I was late coming back home. I was shaking with fright.

  I haven’t ever been late after that. And I haven’t told Bhuwan. He might think that I am making up stories about his mother.

  You know, Vidya, this feels like a bad soap opera, with an evil mother-in-law. But this is now my reality. This is my life, I am describing. I live this reality every single day. I am carrying out all the tasks that she asks me to, like a slave. I am crying as I write this. My tears just fell on this paper, and that’s why the ink is blotted.

  I know what you are thinking Vidya. I know what you will say too—that I should stand up for myself. You said that to me in your previous letter too.

  I don’t know, Vidya. I simply am not able to.

  She frightens me, Vidya. I am a coward.

  I feel trapped here.

  I know now that my MIL would never be comfortable with my taking up a job or even studying further. I told Bhuwan that my dream has always been to start working, and I would very much like to study further. Bhuwan was surprised to hear that. He thought I had no career plans. He said that, at the time of marriage, all they had agreed to from their side was that I would complete my graduation. He said the question of my post-graduation had never come up. Papa had assured them that I had no ambitions whatsoever, and I would be happy to be a housewife.

  Can you believe that, Vidya? I feel so betrayed by my own parents.

  I understand that they were eager to see me married. But how could they blatantly lie?

  The one thing that mattered to me was my academics. Now that, too, is being taken away from me.

  Just a few months back, I was a topper in college, and I had dreams, plans, hopes.

  Now I am just a housewife, making rotis, tea and pressing my mother-in-law’s feet. She treats me like a slave. What is worse is that I am letting it happen.

  I don’t even know when the days begin and end. These are my study holidays and I am supposed to be studying. But that’s just not happening. The little free time I get, I sit in front of my books—but nothing I read enters my head. I am on tenterhooks, not knowing when I will next be summoned by my MIL.

  Bhuwan just does not get it.

  ‘It’s not like she keeps you busy 24x7, right? Then why don’t you study?’ he asks. I am unable to make him understand how it affects me psychologically.

  I wish I was not a coward, Vidya.

  I wish I could just walk out of this marriage.

  But even if I do, where will I go? It’s not like Papa or Ma are going to allow me to come back.

  I managed to speak to Ma the other day, when my mother-in-law had gone out with her friends. I sneaked a call in. You were at college. I told her all that was happening here. Can you believe what she said? She asked me to adjust. She said it was not as if Bhuwan was drinking and beating me up, or that he was a womaniser. She said that mother-in-law problems are common in the early stages of marriage, and that things will settle down.

  It is unbelievable that my own parents have turned their backs on me.

  I feel so alone, Vidya.

  I am sorry this letter has been nothing but a long rant.

  I miss Vandu, Vaish and Ani. I miss the cool mountain air of Joshimath.

  All of that seems like another world now.

  Write back soon, Vidya.

  Your letters are my lifeline.

  Literally they are.

  I love you, my darling sister. Your exams must be going on now. Do well.

  Hugs and kisses,

  Veda

  March 1996

  Pune

  Dear Suraj,

  How are you? Hope things are all good at your end?

  I apologise for the long delay from my side.

  Things are not so good here.

  I did try to ‘carve my own path’, like you suggested. It backfired badly. I just finished writing a long letter, mostly comprising a rant about my current life, to Vidya.

  I feel trapped, Suraj. I don’t have the time to study anymore. My grades have slipped badly. I am not permitted to stay back after college and study in the library. Once I come home, I have a lot of tasks.

  I get a little free time when my mother-in-law goes to the temple or for her walk or elsewhere. But when she is at home, I am unable to focus on my books.

  I don’t know what to do.

  I wondered for a while if I am being caught in a circle of self-pity. I tried to look at the bright side. I have food
to eat, I have a roof over my head, etc., which thousands of people don’t.

  But I had all these things before I left Joshimath too. And there I had you, and I had Vidya.

  Here I have only your letters.

  I know I sound pathetic—but I wait for your letters.

  They are the only bright things in my life now.

  I am sorry, I am keeping this very short because I have to head back home. I am writing in a hurry from college. (I came here to collect my hall tickets.)

  Good luck for your exams.

  Write back soon.

  Your friend forever,

  Veda

  April 1996

  Joshimath

  Dearest Veda didi,

  I am shocked. Completely shocked.

  I don’t even know where to begin, and what to tell you. The person writing those letters doesn’t sound like my didi at all. This letter is worse than your last one.

  Why do you see yourself as a coward? Why are you getting scared of your MIL? She sounds worse than the one that appears in the TV serial. But you don’t have to let that frighten you. You can speak up and stand up to her. Be bold.

  Didi—why are you allowing this to happen to you?

  Why aren’t you walking out of your marriage? What are you afraid of?

  I think I will tell Ma and Papa what is going on. Please let me know and I shall speak to them.

  I am sending this letter by Speed Post so that it reaches you soon. I am keeping this letter very short.

  I am with you, didi. Together, we will find a way.

  All my love,

  Vidya

  PS: 1. I am not waiting for Suraj’s reply, because I want this letter to reach you fast. Suraj said that he would give me his letter in a few days, and I shall send that letter to you separately.

  2. I did well in all my exams and am expecting good grades.

  May 1996

  Pune

  Dearest, dearest Vidya,

  I spoke to Ma again, before I got your letter. Papa too came on the line. I called them when my MIL had gone to the temple. Speaking to them was of no use. They said they would get a bad name if I came back there. They said that word will spread that they haven’t raised their daughters properly, and that it will affect your marriage prospects.

  They told me not to be selfish. They said to give it a few years, and everything would be fine.

  When I reminded Ma that I wanted to study further, and that I wasn’t getting time because of my MIL, Ma said that once a girl got married, her first responsibility was towards her family. She shouldn’t be selfish.

  She spoke of her own life, when she got married to Papa and then gave up studies. She said that I was lucky that they were okay with my going to college, and that I was being allowed to take the final exams at all.

  She asked me who would look after my child if I went to work. She asked if I had spoken to my MIL and husband about it.

  I haven’t even thought of a child, Vidya. Like I told you, there is no sex life as such between Bhuwan and me. How could I tell all this to Ma? I just kept quiet.

  So, at present, walking out on my marriage is not an option for me.

  My final exams are going on, and I have hardly studied. I have a few days off to study in between papers, but I am finding it very hard to focus.

  I haven’t written to Suraj even though you sent me his letter, and I got it a few days back, after I got yours. The thing is, I feel I do not know what to write any more, other than my MIL troubles.

  Right now, all of this is looming large over my head, and there seems to be no solution in sight.

  I am continuing this letter after a gap of many days. I couldn’t finish it earlier.

  I am done with my exams. I did very badly. I have never been this ill-prepared for exams in my life.

  I tried to remember what the lecturers had said in class. And that was about it.

  I had not gone through notes in detail, nor read the textbooks before the exams, because of the MIL situation. As a result, a lot of what I wrote in my papers was fluff. There was no substance to it at all.

  My days here are spent cooking and cleaning. It is nothing great. It is a routine life.

  As long as I follow all the rules laid down by my MIL, I am okay. She doesn’t get angry. If I dare break any of her ‘rules’, she gets nasty.

  I wake up early, wash my hair, have a bath, do the pooja and do everything else that pleases her.

  I haven’t given her cause for complaint so far.

  On the weekend, after my exams got over, I asked Bhuwan if we could go out. He looked surprised, as though I was asking him to take me to Mount Everest!

  We did go out—but guess what, my MIL came with us.

  I would have liked to go out alone with Bhuwan; I was longing for it. But no—she ruined that too. He said later that it was not fair to leave her alone at home.

  I don’t see why! She does get to go out with her friends—Shanta aunty and Kanti behen. It is only me, who doesn’t get to go anywhere.

  How did you do in your exams? I hope you did well?

  Did you help Vandu, Vaish and Ani to study?

  Please tell them I miss them.

  Convey my regards to Rudra kaka and Paro didi too.

  I spoke to Ma and Papa again on the phone. Why do they always call up when you are in college? I asked Ma why she doesn’t ever let Vandu, Vaish or any of you speak to me on the phone. I did not realise that Papa was listening on the extension. He said the phone is only for important things, and that STD calls are costly. He said they don’t have money to waste for idle chit-chat. What could I say after that?

  How is Suraj doing? I haven’t replied to his letter yet. I guess he will not write to me till I reply to his last one. In his letter, he had mentioned that he was shocked by my mother-in-law’s behaviour and, like you, he also did not understand why I was not standing up to her. He said he was sorry that his advice had backfired and asked me not to lose hope.

  Take care, Vidya. What do you plan to do in the summer vacation? Are you going to take the tailoring classes that I had taken in my long holidays, just before I joined college? Do something useful. Do not waste your holidays. Equip yourself with some skillsets.

  All my love,

  Your sister,

  Veda

  May 1996

  Joshimath

  Dear, dear Veda,

  Forgive me for not writing sooner.

  I must confess that, initially, I thought I would wait for your letter. I kept waiting, hoping to hear from you. When I didn’t, I wondered if maybe you no longer wanted to be in touch with me. But Vidya told me that you had asked about me, and that you wondered if I would write only if you did, so I decided to jot down a letter to you immediately.

  I am not going to give you advice anymore, Veda. I feel bad that things got worse for you after you acted on my suggestion.

  I think each of us knows our own situation best. Anybody else’s advice will not be appropriate, as they don’t know exactly what is going on.

  Now that I have finished my exams, I have a lot of time on my hands. My father’s friend, Yagnik uncle (I think I have told you about him), wants me to join the company and start working immediately. He says there are two advantages to it:

  1. I will have a better understanding of the MBA course and get preference during admissions if I have work experience.

  2. The company has a provision under which they will allow me to go on sabbatical, and pay my fees for the MBA, provided I give an undertaking that, once I finish my course, I will come back and work with them for three years.

  I discussed it with my uncle in Mumbai, and he too feels that it is a good decision.

  My flat in Mumbai has been lying locked up. I am also missing that city. After all, that is where I grew up and studied.

  Try to be cheerful! Try and read a lot. When my parents died, it was books that were my sole support, and helped me get through a difficult time. Above all, do n
ot lose hope.

  Do you want me to send you books?

  Take care, my friend,

  Suraj

  Chapter 13

  July 1996

  Kailash Mandir Colony, Pune

  Veda craned her neck and stood on tip-toes for a glimpse of the noticeboard in the college corridor. A large group of students were already gathered around it. There were at least a hundred of them, each one trying to read their results and see how they had fared.

  The faces of some fell as they spotted their roll number and the result displayed next to it. Some were elated as they had done much better than they had hoped. As each student spotted their result, they left the group, and immediately a sea of other students surged forward, occupying the space. Veda was at the edge of the group, and as each student left, she found herself being propelled forward involuntarily by the people behind her. At last she reached the front, and she ran her finger down the glass, trying to find her roll number. Her finger stopped when she found it. Her heart almost stopped too, when she spotted what was written next to her roll number.

  The word FAILED leapt up at her. Her eyes filled with tears and she blinked them back. She had hoped to get through because of her strong language skills, and the fact that she had paid attention to the lectures. But the questions asked had been very different from the ones she had been expecting. She knew she had done badly, but she had never thought that failing the exam would be a possibility.

  Veda turned away from the noticeboard with her shoulders drooping and a heaviness in her heart.

  FAILED. FAILED. FAILED. The words in red, grew inside her head and assumed the shape of giant letters. The letters then melted and seemed to fill every part of her body. Nobody had noticed her, and nobody cared about her results. They were all far too occupied with their own results. But Veda imagined everybody staring at her and pointing fingers at her. She didn’t look at anybody. She hung her head and stared at the ground. Her cheeks burned with shame, as she made her way out of the college. In a way, she was glad she had no friends in this college. Being the only married person, and the fact that she had joined college only in the third year, she was a bit of an outcast and nobody paid any attention to her.