I always believed in the sanctity of marriage. I thought they were made in heaven. 

Since I was a little girl, like many others, I wanted to marry the man of my dreams, who would love me for me and that's all. That's the love you see in Bollywood movies, right? Unconditional, pure.

I got married when I was 31. My husband was not the man of my dreams, but I gave my 100 per cent to our relationship. The initial few months flew by. Since we got married pretty late, we wanted to start a family as soon as possible. And so, I got pregnant.

I had left my job early enough into the marriage, for the sake of my marriage. My husband's parents were no more and he had lived as a bachelor for too long, so I thought I should give him the life a husband deserves.

But within a few months, I came to know that he drinks, smokes, and chews on gutka. Not my perfect husband, will probably not even be the perfect father, I thought. I felt cheated. 

My husband would ask me not to talk to our neighbours, not to go out without his permission, not to wear jeans. His work would require him to go on a tour every month. This period would be the only time when I would be able to meet my parents. That's when I felt the most free. And I was managing with this lifestyle.

When he would take me to my parents' house at times, he'd drink there and while heading back home, he would start arguing with me over something my father or sister said. His misunderstandings would make him abuse me and my family.

I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. His sister, however, was disappointed. She wanted a boy for her brother. My husband probably got influenced by what she would say to him. Now, whenever, my baby would fall sick, it would be deemed as my fault. And the reason behind all of this is my monthly visit to my parents' house.

Slowly, things worsened. He started swearing at my parents as well, on their faces. He would call his sister every time we fought and she would, undoubtedly, support him.

Then came the big blow, literally. He started hitting me. His brother, bhabhi, sister, jija, all thought a man had the right to hit his wife. The wife should just comply. My parents' plea to him of not hitting me fell on deaf ears. 

He blames my parents for everything that went wrong in our life. Apparently, they are too interfering, they don't want to see me happy with him. I found a call recording on my husband's phone once, in which he was badmouthing me with his bhabhi. When I confronted him, he denied it and I let it go for the sake of my peace. A couple of days ago, he said my family was cursing him with me in the car, all that while he was on the phone 'accidentally'.

No such conversation ever took place between my family and I. He beat me up blue-and-black after that. He apologised later. He got me a new phone and I can see he is trying to be 'normal' with me now. But, in the meanwhile, I am dying. I am devastated. I have started to hate him. But I love him.

I do not want to leave him. I still want the perfect marriage. I still think our marriage was made in heaven.

What should I do? Please help me.

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