“Ma’am, when my mother got paralysed after the stroke, he did not even allow me to meet her; he used to monitor all my calls,” the pedicurist lamented as she scrubbed the dead skin cells off the sole of my foot. “My husband is my own uncle’s son. Once he beat me up so badly that the left side of my face was completely bruised, but I come from a low-income family, ma’am. I could not even share this pain with my family,” continued the young woman in her early 20s.
She was baring her soul as she filed one toenail after another. She then brought out nail colour in various shades of pink and asked me to pick the one closest to my outfit. It was a mehndi that I were to attend that evening but my thoughts were with her at the moment. “Zindagi rangeen sirf khawabon mein hoti hai, ma’am” (life is colorful only in dreams) were her final words on the subject as she painted my toe bright pink.
That she had been through a lot was visible from her lifeless face and sullen eyes, but she is not an isolated case. Countless women in Pakistan submit to their fate after marriage; many are barred from visiting their family in a spiteful display of power by the husband. The woman in a bid to save her home suffers in patience, and often turns to God to bring behavioural changes in her man. Sometimes, her prayers are answered but most of the time she learns to keep quiet.
There is a sudden loss of power as young women get married, and the initial years of marriage call for some major adjustments, but most of them are only on the part of the female. The underlying message in her new home: be happy, at least, we accepted you as the daughter-in- law. Even when she musters up courage and shares her grievances with her own family, she’s often told to make the changes in herself in order to suit the husband and his family better. Society at large still attaches stigma to divorce, women are often advised to use her children as a pawn to soften the heart of the spouse. If childless, she is advised to start a family soon. The solution to all her problems lies with others.
The Pakistani son is a celebrated being. He can never be wrong; he has the upper hand, the authority to reject females for marriage, and the ‘moral’ right to expect dowry even if it’s not blatant as in some cases. This son of the soil is often a complex-ridden, highly insecure individual, who is a complete ‘mama’s boy’. He believes in treating his own mother like a goddess, while nit-picking on his wife for everything. He exists across the economic strata, and with the passage of time, we have just come to accept him as normal.
Women are conditioned from an early age to prepare for their wedding day. Just like there is AD and BC in the Gregorian calendar, there is also a ‘before-marriage’ and ‘after-marriage’ chapter in her history. The idea is to marry her off early because once she crosses her 20s she becomes a ‘liability’ to her parents and a thing of ‘shame ‘in society. So crippling is the fear of girls ‘sitting at home’ that parents socially start marketing their daughters in their teens.
A Chinese advertisement recently talked about ‘leftover women’ and the social pressure they face for still being on the shelf, unsold, untaken. The video was widely discussed in social media as beautiful women in their 30s still living at home but full of other qualities exposed their vulnerable side. A side that is made to feel less than normal in gatherings, a side that feels the pinch of losing fertility. One had hoped this video that went viral would be discussed on our TV channels as well, as leftover women are a big desi (local) issue as well, but media only allots time to sensational breaking news. Weeds ruining our communal structure are of no importance, as morning shows also remain focused on celebrating their ‘wedding week’. Their discourse is mostly about the latest hairdo and makeup in the bridal world. Women who are unmarried are rarely talked about, and even if a spinster makes an appearance on one of these shows, she’s made to feel incomplete.
The women protection bill is being hotly discussed in print media, and rightfully so, but there are no barometers to judge emotional violence. Who will protect the woman who is never praised for her efforts, who is often told by her in-laws that her husband is better looking than her in comparison? The lineage of our prophet continues through his daughter, yet we ignore this symbolism and let daughters of the nation suffer in silence and lose their self-esteem after marriage just to avoid social awkwardness. Many will continue visiting the doctor on the pretext of a ‘fall in the washroom’ just to cover up the sins of their worst halves in order to give their family another chance.
Later that evening, I made my way back from the opulent mehndi in a cab. A lot of attention had gone into decorating the banquet for the guests, from centrepieces on tables to delicate floral arrangement on the stage, everything looked like it was inspired by the morning shows. I casually turned to the cab driver and asked him if he had any children. “Baji, (sister) just last week I had my fourth girl”, he answered earnestly. I asked for their names and ages; all four girls had arrived into the world within seven years of each other, possibly owing to pressure to produce a son. “But, alhamdulilah (all praise belong to Allah), baji, I’m happy that God has chosen me to be their father… rest is their destiny”, he proclaimed with a tinge of bittersweet sincerity.
Destiny, that is correct, as in this country we depend on our fate to find us the right man, hoping he would at least consider us a human being. And, sometimes, even accompany us to the ER when we genuinely fall sick.
The writer is a freelance columnist with a degree in Cultural Studies and a passion for social observation, especially all things South Asian. She tweets @chainacoffeemug