Indian Identity

by Sudhir Kakar

  Then one day he went to work and met with an accident on the way. My sister’s son brought him back, all bandaged and stitched. When I saw him I forgot all the woe he had caused me. My heart ached for him. I had eaten his salt and was true to him. When I brought him milk, he said, ‘Sister-fucker, go and give the milk to your parents to drink.’ Still in bandages, he went to work the next day and brought back papers for divorce. He told me to sign them. I said ‘First get well and then get the divorce.’ The children and I came back to Madangir. He stayed away for 12 days and then came home.

  None of my wishes have been fulfilled. Before marriage I thought I will wear nice clothes and jewels and most of all that I will get love. I thought if our two hearts met and became one we could cross the span of this life together. For the first few years I kept the vrata of Karwachauth (a day of fasting by married women for the welfare of their husbands). He said, ‘Why are you making this show? Why are you playing a role in a drama?’ I said, ‘I have true love for you in my heart.’ How he has made me suffer!

  They say there was once a bad man. People asked him why good men die but the bad ones don’t. He replied that God doesn’t take bad men because He knows that in heaven too the bad men will bring their filth in. See, Sita also suffered under great cruelties but she passed her time on earth for the love of one man. I too tolerated everything because I loved him. I couldn’t live without him even if he abused me thousands of times. But a man who abuses and beats you in public, why should I love him? Now my love is slowly dying from inside. I only think of the children. He doesn’t even know in which class the children are studying or whether they even go to school. In fact he now has his eyes on our third daughter who has just turned 14 and I have to watch him carefully.

  My health has been affected and my heart it affected. Sometimes I become mad. If a woman can talk then she remains sane, otherwise there is something inside her which keeps on pressing. By talking one can take the pressure out. I often talk to myself or start talking in front of children in the alley. Once in a while my children call me mad. In spite of all this I don’t get angry. The children say, ‘Mother, you are made of stone.’ Despite saying all the filthy things to me over the years, he too has been defeated. But I have no anger. If he can get women from outside, we can also get other men. But to do so goes against my dharma and when I die only my dharma will go with me. They say that the man who spits on the sun gets the spit back on his own face. So he is the one whose face will be smeared with spittle. The love of a man and a woman is very strange. No one can give woman the love which a man can. A woman who loves a man from inside is hungry only for him. Now I would like to renounce the world and go away to a forest. I have hopes in my children but perhaps like my mother no one will care for me. It would have been better if I had married a blind man. At least I could have served him, been rewarded for performing good deeds. What did I get marrying someone with eyes—ruin, filth, and abuse.

  Basanti

  Before marriage, I lived happily with my parents in our village in Bihar. We were three brothers and three sisters. A brother was the eldest and I was the next in line. Two brothers and a sister are still unmarried.

  I got along well with my parents but I loved my father best. I did all his work. Mother used to beat me. The whole day she abused me because I did not work and was busy playing. Two or three times a week I would get beaten by her. Because a mother teaches you to work, she also hits you more. I don’t remember my childhood much except that I was happy, laughing even after being abused. We all loved each other but didn’t talk much. I remember the festivals we celebrated. On Holi (the spring festival of colours) we worshipped liquor. We made liquor from rice then put it in a brass dish with some sal leaves, worshipped it and then drank it. We also worshipped a chicken. We took out its blood and drank one drop. Everyone fasted for two to three days and then ate and drank. Then there was the worship of Kali (the fierce mother goddess) every year. Two days we fasted and the goddess would enter one of the women. While the goddess was in her no one went near her, not even her own children. Afterwards, we would go to the temple, offer milk, water and flowers for her worship and then bathe. But ever since I came to Delhi I left all the rituals because I took the wrong path. Every year we also went to see the play about Rama and Sita though I did not understand it much. Now I go to see it only because of the children.

  When I became mature my parents married me off at 15. After marriage I went to live in Calcutta with my husband. We spent a very happy six years. I stayed at home while he worked. My husband treated me well and we did not lack anything. He talked lovingly to me and we laughed a lot. Twice a night we did ‘work.’ In the beginning it was very painful, but then I liked it. We slept apart only at the times of my period. At those times he would not even take water from my hands. Before sleeping we would drink, chew pan (betel leaf) and smoke cigarettes.

  I was young in years and perhaps that is why I could not conceive. When the body is ready, the child too comes. After a while, I fell sick. There were dizzy spells, bouts of fever, and I became as thin as a stick. I couldn’t even walk and my hearing was affected. I went to the doctor, daily drank coconut water for four months, and didn’t eat. Perhaps Calcutta’s water did not suit me. But because we were both so happy, even the fact that I couldn’t conceive did not bother us. I thought, we two beings are together in a foreign land and when I get well we will go back to the village and perhaps it will happen there.

  After returning to the village, I was quite unhappy. We sold our fields. He earned money by working as a labourer, and I supplemented the income by making and selling rice liquor. When I did not get a child he said there was no point in his keeping me. I said to him, ‘Only God can help us. If we don’t have a child what can I do? Let’s wait another four, five years.’ He started talking like this seven years after marriage. When my sister-in-law came to visit us she said, ‘Why are you sad? When God is ready to give you a child, he will do so.’ I said, ‘But your brother has to understand this. Otherwise how will I live in his house?’ Then my husband together with my mother-in-law stopped giving me food. I would also be beateen. My body became black and blue, with swellings and scars all over it. My husband would kick me and hit me with a stick.

  He then said to me, ‘If you want to stay in my house you can do so, but only if you get me married for a second time.’ I said, ‘I will get you married but then I won’t stay here. I will only get unhappiness. When you beat me so much now how can you treat me well after your second marriage?’ He said he would keep his word. ‘You can live here in comfort and I will marry again.’ I gave him 500 rupees of my own, three dresses and got him married. Though we all lived together for two years I was not happy. My husband slept between the two of us. Sometimes he would love one woman and sometimes the other.

  One day he said, ‘Leave the house. I don’t want to keep you.’ I walked off to commit suicide by throwing myself under a train. A boy from the village stopped me and said, ‘Why do you want to die? You are still young and all your limbs are strong and healthy. Why die?’ I said, ‘I have no one now in this world. So why should I live?’ When my husband heard about this he came immediately. I was sitting under a tree and he asked me to come home. I said ‘You drink liquor every day, you beat me. I won’t go back with you.’ The other wife said, ‘Elder sister, if you won’t stay then I will also leave the house. I will go anywhere, go away with any man, beg for my food but you should not leave. I would be very unhappy if you left.’

  My mother-in-law was a very bad woman. She would hit and kick me. She’d snatch away bread from me. When my man gave me a roti she would say, ‘Why are you giving her food? Don’t give her anything to eat.’ When a person gets very unhappy only then does she leave her home. I was dejected that I was not conceiving and my man was also unhappy because of this, so I decided to go away. But before leaving, I broke everything in the house in my anger. I destroyed everything. I said ‘You want to destroy my home. So there
! I will do it myself!’ Before leaving I did not even take the 3000 rupees I had saved up. The other wife found it in the rice storage bin after I left. Afterwards, my husband would admiringly say to others, ‘How did she save so much money though we had so little!’ He also said of me that she is very wise and he cannot understand why I broke everything and ran away.

  Then my parents said, ‘You shouldn’t worry. Earn for yourself. Take it easy and go wherever fate takes you. Go to the festivals, go to see the dances.’ But when the jodi (pair) is broken, how can one be happy! I was constantly with the women in the household and traded in rice like a merchant. Then I thought, ‘What happiness do I get in my parents’ home?’ When the brothers marry and bring their wives they might not want to keep me any longer! I told my father, ‘While you are alive I will work and use up all my strength. But when you die I will be feeble and no one will look after me. If had a son or a daughter it might have been all right, but otherwise there will be no one to ask about my welfare.’ So I decided to come to Delhi because two of my brothers and a sister were already in this city. I came with a group of 30 to 40 men and women who were coming to work on construction sites. My father put me on the train.

  After reaching Delhi I stayed with my brothers and sister in Sultanpur and began to work as a sweeper. There I met my second husband, who was a contractor and who gave my father 1500 rupees to marry me. After marriage, Mannu’s father (the second husband) said, ‘I have made a mistake in getting married. But don’t be afraid, I will look after your needs till the end.’ His wife had died six years ago and he had children. Because his children objected, he told me to stay separately by myself. I said, ‘Fine, but you should keep on meeting me sometimes.’ Now his children are grown up and even they come to visit me. I tell my husband, ‘Do whatever you like. Keep another wife. Just provide me with food.’ But now he doesn’t give me anything.

  I work and earn myself. I have three children, two boys and a girl. My sister’s two children are also with me because she is dead. Sometimes my mind tells me to marry again. My brother-in-law says he will take his children away. I say, ‘Let them be with me. Listen to me, otherwise you will regret it. Earn here and feed them here.’ Now we are going to fight the case of my sister because she was murdered. I used to be visited by the Goddess but I passed Her on to my sister because it exhausted me. The Goddess has now gone into the murderer. When the Goddess used to come into me my whole body would tremble. Now I am often sick. To take care of the visits of the Goddess one has to do a lot of things like not touching dirty utensils, cleaning the hut immediately with cowdung and so on. I cannot serve her now. I have to earn my living. As long as I am alive I will earn, feed the children, and when there are difficulties we will see what happens.

  At the time of marriage I had no worry. God had created a good pair from the two of us. No old people to interfere. But when I think of the mistake he made by turning me out I feel my heart collapsing. How well I lived! Now I live in a shanty. God knows what will happen though I have stopped believing in Him. I don’t know whether I will be happy or unhappy; whether I will get happiness when the children grow up. But for now they have to be sent to school.

  There is no profit in getting married, no advantage at all. When the children grow up, at least they will say she has brought us up by working so hard. People and relatives tell me to marry, but I don’t want to extend my hand to anyone anymore. I don’t want to go anywhere. Wherever there is a place for me I will stay.

  I sometimes think that Mannu’s father is old and about to die. I also feel ashamed to be with him. Mannu’s father also beat me once. He said, ‘You talk to other men.’ I said, ‘When someone asks about my welfare then I have to reply. And then you make me unhappy. If you kept me happy I would not talk to other men.’ He kept quiet. I don’t say any of this to my brothers and sisters because his honour would be smirched. I tell them that we live well, eat, and drink. For three years he hasn’t given me anything. Not even a rag. Only for the children did he once take out a hundred rupees. I said, ‘If these are your children get clothes for them.’ So he brought them some rotten stuff.

  I often don’t remember my earlier married life. I am quite alone. No fucker cares for me. I only think of the children and get some happiness from them. Or occasionally my family members come for a visit, and we laugh and joke together and I get some happiness that way. Relatives bring me peace.

  I have thought of drowning myself, but then think of the children. Sometimes I cry inside myself. I don’t want to quarrel with anyone but if someone says untrue things about me I get into a rage. Here when people say that I’m a whore, that when working in the bungalows I get fucked in the ass, then I get furious. Where do I have the time for all that stuff? I don’t even have time to sit.

  There is another thing which makes me angry. This is the matter of love. There is a man here who must have given me some kind of potion to drink, which has trapped me in his love. I thought of him as a brother but then he did the bad work with me. If he still loved me, it would have been fine. But he neither talks to me nor wants me to talk to anyone else. He doesn’t even talk to the children anymore. I feel so unhappy, and even the heart can stop beating with so much pain.

  He doesn’t talk to me because of that milk (seller) woman. ‘If you have done that mistake with me then I will go with you,’ I say. I won’t marry him, but I won’t let him get away from me. He is scared so he doesn’t come. For six years he kept me, but now he doesn’t care anymore. My husband knows about it. He says I am a young woman and he doesn’t mind. Earlier, my lover looked after me well. Whenever he needed me at night, he took me to his hut. The children also called him ‘papa.’ But now he says he’ll watch me from afar and that I shouldn’t joke around with other men. He would have had an affair with the milk woman but I came between them. I told him that if he’d so much as touched her, I’d skin him alive. One day I saw them together. I pulled him away and took out my sandal to hit him. I said, ‘We have been lovers for six years but I have never taken out my sandal to hit you. But today you must decide. Tell me what is you relationship with this woman, otherwise I will beat you. You have ruined my life and I shall not spare you.’

  There were four or five other men standing there. The milk woman called me a whore. Then she kept quiet and I too calmed down. But from inside I feel a great anger. When I fight with him I feel a little relieved, but what can I do? If my pair (jodi) had not broken up I wouldn’t be in this situation. I have gone from one man to another and ended up by loving three men. Now I shall never love or many again. I’ll earn and bring up my children. My daughter is maturing and I have to arrange her marriage. I have to save money for that…. But love causes me sadness from within, they say when insects burn in the forest everyone can see, but when one’s heart is burning no one comes to know of it. I cannot even go to the temple because I have taken the wrong path. In our area they don’t let women get on the wrong track. She may not talk unnecessarily even to her relatives. As long as she is unmarried she has some freedom, but after marriage she can only go with her husband. She may not talk to other men. I have come away from all that and so I am suffering.

  The squalor of slum life, as the narratives of Janak and Basanti reveal, does nothing to dim the luminosity of their romantic longing. On the contrary, the abysmal material conditions and the struggle against poverty arouses their ‘sense of life according to love’ to its fullest wakefulness. The dream of the transforming power of love, of what the woman might have been if she were well and truly loved, is tenaciously clung to amidst (and perhaps because of) all the suffering and pathos of her existence.

  The central image of this dream is of the jodi, the pair. The pair, of coure, exerts a universally powerful pull on human imagination. To adopt Dostoevsky’s observation on the lover’s vision, in the pair we may sometimes see the other, and ourselves, as God might have done so. In Janak and Basanti’s fantasy of the pair, there are echoes of another universal myth: of t
he philandering husband, and the abandoned wife faithfully preserving the sanctity of the marriage bed. Its Indian versions have tales of Parvati’s anger and jealousy as Shiva continues on a path of unremitting seduction; of Radha alternately wrathful and pining away in solitude while Krishna dallies with other gopis (cow herdesses). Indeed, Jungians will see in the women’s yearning for containment in a couple a manifestation of the ‘pairing instinct’ which they would ascribe to the feminine aspects of the soul.4 The women’s pain, rage, jealousy, vengefulness and despair are then aroused less by the fact of the man’s infidelity than in his denying her fulfilment of the need for completion in the pair.

  Freudians, on the other hand, would try to pinpoint individual, life-historical needs in the woman’s (or the man’s) fantasy of the couple. The partner, according to Freud’s view of what he called ‘object choice,’ is a replacement for an earlier counterplayer from infancy—usually the father, mother, or a sibling—who will compensate for the loss, disillusionment, and pain experienced in the earlier wishful pairing. The partner in the couple may thus fulfil one or more of a variety of needs. He may provide nutrients for the woman’s sense of the self through his ‘mirroring’ of her, reflecting back with favour and with a confirming glow in his eyes all her acts of relationship. He may, on the other hand, be an incorporation of the idealized Other in whom the woman seeks to merge, hoping therein to find a way to build cohesiveness and strength into her own self. The man can also be needed as a container for all the despised and disavowed aspects of the self. He may thus be an incarnation of the woman’s negative identity—of all she fears she might be (or become) but dares not acknowledge. Here the partner can either be the repository of the woman’s unacceptable sexual or aggressive impulses, living out her ‘wickedness,’ which then allows her to keep her ‘goodness’ and ‘purity’ intact, or, he may take over the weaker part of her self; the woman can then afford to be strong and energetic as long as her hidden conviction that she is their opposite, finds an expression in the man’s manifestation of weakness and passivity.