#ALetterToHer from Agony Auntie

Dear Woman,

Hi! Don’t be annoyed about me not using your name. Your name doesn’t matter, nor do your circumstances or identity. You could be an urban, educated, liberal, independent modern girl, or a not so educated, conservative, traditional rural girl.

He could be your husband, lover, boyfriend, live-in partner, but none of these permutations and combinations alter the anatomy of your emotionally abusive relationship.

Remember the first time he cracked a misogynist joke in your presence and you smiled or maybe even laughed along, after all he was your man, you were expected to stand by whatever he said, believed or laughed at.

Remember the first lump in your throat he caused. It could be about something as trivial as your bra-strap showing or the tea not being just right. You sobbed in the washroom or wept aloud after he was gone and then turned into self-censor for your dresses and recipes (well done). 

He loved you, you told yourself over and over again, he meant well, of course good women like you never annoy their men.

Remember how suddenly you the woman of his dreams became someone else- selfish, conniving, clumsy. How every conversation was suddenly flooded with accusations or threats? “If you love me…became the string, and you the puppet.Obviously you are nurturer by birth, aren't you?

Remember how you surrendered slowly to criticism, prying and his overbearing presence in your life. But love is supposed to overwhelm, isn’t it, you must believe.

He was asking for your undivided time and attention. You were his woman and that was such a privilege. Remember when a few times you did meekly voice your discomfort, and he said you were just overreacting. Of course you were too sensitive and sentimental like most women are, or maybe it was ‘that time of the month’; definitely your emotions had become faulty and so inconsequential. You were making a mountain out of a mole-hill; women must have the patience and tolerance like Mother Earth.

Remember the flowers followed by the apologies? He was just following the blue-print of a perfect romance. You must have surely provoked him, otherwise he was a good man, the man you so loved. He never hit you, only said a few rude words now and then, or just denied conversations and sex.

Remember how your priorities changed? But then that is what women are supposed to do, right? He should always come first, even before you for you; you did learn a new way of love, erasing yourself.

You liked what he liked, disliked what he disliked and yet you couldn’t make him happy. Didn’t anyone tell you, boys will be boys? Why couldn’t you just let him be and continue loving him unconditionally?

Dear Woman, women must not have too much self-respect dear, or it becomes ego, there is one valid ego in this world the male one.

Now though I and any sane woman would advise you against it, here I give you an excerpt from my personal feminist manifesto, but follow it at your own risk, your love is at the stake.

·   Learn more about intimate partner violence. (You know it is fashionable to talk about cycle of violence.)

·  If you suspect that another woman around you is being abused, show concern, listen, show her my letter. (But how can one powerless woman help another?)

·  Speak in hushed tones about the abuse and the abusers but never ever interfere, it is their ‘personal matter’. Also why bother when he can most probably get away with it.

·  Show your support but not at the risk your own abusive relationship.

·  Last resort- Call the police. (But beware that involves a lot of shamelessness.)

Last but not the least stay safe and never wash dirty linen in public.

Remain a good Indian girl always like your mother and her mother before her (Watch Mother India once a week) and be a role model for your sisters and daughters.

We must all get married and stay married, at any cost.

Yours truly

Pseudo-feminist agony auntie

Image : Google Images

(Disclaimer: The author recognizes EMOTIONAL ABUSE as a serious act of violence in intimate relationships. The views/opinions expressed are in a sarcastic vein and are meant to highlight the ironical perceptions about abuse in the society we live.If this letter makes your angry, it has succeeded in its purpose.)

Must read a copy of Meena Kandasamy’s new book, When I Hit Youhttp://bit.ly/Meenabk2 because the conspiracy of silence around domestic abuse labeling it as a personal matter,must be broken, because one story is many stories.

Once upon a Time - Snail mail

One of the best experiences that social networking has brought for me is the networking with other bloggers. B-A-R is one such support group of a few very enthusiastic and intelligent bloggers and recently they hosted a snail mail challenge.

We had to opt for sending and receiving a snail mail , could be a real letter sent through post and for those of us who had geographical or other issues a personal e-mail.

An additional fun factor was that though we knew that we would be sending as well as receiving a snail mail, the people on the other end were chosen randomly. This was much like the old fashioned pen-pals.

I wrote my mail to Shantala who writes the wonderful Shanaya Tales and received one from Suzy who writes a couple of amazing blogs , one of which is Someday Somewhere .

The letter I received was made even more special by her by attaching a picture to it :

One page of the letter I received from Suzy /Ila

Though I had interacted with both these ladies on previous occasions via chat and discussion on social networks, writing and receiving personal letters is a notch apart.

Both my letters were e-mails but nevertheless the excitement of making new friends through personal mail was amazing.

With so many instant messaging platforms and even our blogs we connect with only the online persona of people while a letter is a much more private and safer space and thus allows for a trust and patience missing in other online interactions.

I love these out of the box ideas and though the feel of real paper, the visit of a postman , the joy of pasting a postal stamp is lost some of the old world charm was renewed by this experience.

 

Open Letter to Papa (in the memory of my late father)

O

 

Blogging from A to Z Challenge [April 2015]

 

 

 

 

Dear Papa

Almost 45 days ago you ceased to physically exist in this world. A couple of days after that while I was sorting your drawers I found the few letters I had written to you over the years and the cards and messages your grandchild had sent you neatly arranged in a folder labelled :special mail.

So today I am writing another one for that folder because I know this longest-distance relationship that we have now will not stop you from reading this. There is still so much to be said.

As you were aging and your ailments were taking their toll on your health and memories, we often talked about death and the hereafter. I do not know many parents who do that but I know it was another of your valuable life-lessons for me. We were both learning to come to terms with the inevitable.

You were preparing me to face the known miseries of the world without the comfort of having you there and I was letting you slip gradually into the unknown hereafter.

No tribute can rightly summarise what I want to say to you now. But if physical existence is some kind of a chance at learning life I say Papa you always were and will be my spine and my voice.

Despite my personal shortcomings I am proud that you have shaped me into a strong and independent mind and a compassionate and sensitive soul. Ever since I first held a crayon or read a word you have done everything to unlock my creativity and imagination and so it is alright I guess if by genetics I also happen to pick up some of your annoying habits and traits. J

Almost every day there are times when I shatter to a million pieces, when I feel like a rootless tree which will not endure the next storm, when I call out for you over and over again. But I know you are always watching over me and my little one. I have lost a parent but I have gained a guardian angel.

Keep sending me and her your love and life lessons. I promise I will keep growing in your memory.

PS: I remember you had once told me – no real learning is ever without pain.

Love

P