Sunday, March 22, 2009

Deccan Chronicale (India): Fighting errant spouse and the system

http://www.deccanchronicle.com/heartitude/fighting-errant-spouse-and-system-322

Fighting errant spouse and the system
March 22nd, 2009
By Sabra Ahmadzai

It’s been a little over three months in India. These days I make the rounds of the Defence Ministry and the Embassy seeking appointments and trying to meet officials. I also regularly have to talk to the media about my story. “Bura nahin lagta hai… baat karnee padti hai.” (I don’t mind… I have to talk to them.) Still, I wish one of them would go to the Defence Ministry and ask why officials there are refusing to even grant me a meeting.When I go there I am told that so-and-so official is in a meeting, gone out for lunch or whatever.

I remember the day I landed in India with my mother on November 30, 2008. With my ailing mother, I took a taxi to Anand Vihar. Then we travelled all night in a bus to Tanakpur Depot. From there, we took a jeep to Pitthoragarh.

He didn’t see me at first, he was so happy, laughing with his colleagues. I stood in front of him and said, “Hello sir, kaise hain?” (Hello sir, how are you?) He looked stunned. I wanted to slap him. His wife knew about us; she told me she was with him only because of her sons.

I’d given Pant three options — either I stay with him and his entire family, or he come back to Kabul with his family and begin living there or the third, divorce me. He refused all three options and offered me money instead. Then he asked me to leave. I refused and that is when he told me point blank that no one would listen to my story.

I decided to go to the police station. As luck would have it, there was a workshop going on related to women’s issues. Members of the media and the human rights bodies were there and they took up my case.

To say that I was hurt was an understatement. Was I the one who went to him? He went to my father and family members thrice with his proposal before I agreed and even then, only on the condition that he changed his religion. I thought, whatever my parents decide, they would keep my good in mind.

The stories he used to feed me! He left Kabul a fortnight after we got married and I heard nothing from him for three months. He called then to say he’d met with a really bad accident and that was his excuse for not coming out of the house and calling me. He didn’t call for another three months, and when he did, he asked me to marry someone else saying he had kids to take care of.

Life had become hell by then, for me and even for my sister. People would taunt us, “Kabul mein ladke nahin mile kya? (You didn’t meet any men in Kabul did you?)” And that was the least offensive. I’ve been lucky to get the support of many good people here. But the authorities seem to be in no mood to give me justice. They think I would get tired and go home. But they don’t know how stubborn the little girl is.

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