I am no seasoned writer, but there lurks a storm, brewing in my mind. I wish there was another soul who would want to listen to my quirky tales and happiness, be a part of my sorrows and pains.
It’s an experience I want to share, finally, in black and white, the tale of a wife scorned.
Marriage, for me, like any other girl was about eternal bliss. I imagined meeting a prince who would steal my heart and we would live happily ever after. A maiden I was, with a lot of fantasies surrounding me, not just about sex but a happy fulfilling life. But then, things didn’t turn out as I’d thought they would.
Here’s my story:
I was all of 24, chirpy, jovial, outspoken, with a mind of her own, when I entered marriage, which looked full of promises. The groom, he was the one, who I looked at as my prince charming.
To me, this was a union that dreams are made up of.
It was then that I realized that reality is very, very different from the things I thought are for real. I never realized when I turned into a termagant, frustrated women, a characteristic which was born out of the feeling of being unloved and ignored to the point of indifference; this came from the person who was the most important person in my life-my spouse.
There were snippets of love, but it was conditional, which makes me question whether it really was love, or something manipulated to take advantage of me? The reason I doubt the love is because I was controlled, dominated and physically abused if things didn’t go as per the wishes of the husband. This has been going on for 8 years.
My husband’s favorite statement to me was, “Iss ghar me rehna hai toh mere mutabik chalna hoga, nahi toh dhakkey mar kar nikal doonga” (If you want to stay in this house, then you will have to stay as per my rules, else, I will throw you out, unceremoniously).
This hurt me the most, and the vindictive pleasure he got out of it, shattered me to pieces. It was his means of controlling me, all this bullying. I am still holding on to this marriage, for the sake of my son, who is the reason for my existence. I am afraid -What if he takes my son away?
I do not know how long will I be able to burden this baggage, called marriage. These have been eight long years, and many-a times I wanted to break free of the shackles and run off to a place, far away, where I would still be the outspoken jovial woman from my maiden days.
I have lost not just my happy demeanour but also my self-confidence. I don’t know how I will ever face this world without it but I still dare to hope. I hope for gaining the confidence I’ve lost somewhere in this 8-year journey, I hope for a little respect from my husband.