Vishal Sharma
The October evening was calm and clear. The sun was slowly descending and before long more than half of its arc was obscured by the buildings. Then all of a sudden, it disappeared altogether; leaving behind the surreal saffron hue. I had half an eye on the sun’s majestic west ward trajectory while other half was fixated on a woman who was framed nicely by this majestic, but fast dimming glow that almost set itself up as a halo behind her.
I was attending a party on the lawns of a hotel. Although she sat three tables apart from me she was in my direct eye line. I saw that she sat with her elbows on the table in a forward leaning posture and was deeply engrossed in conversation with a couple of girls around the table. A strand of hair hung loose on the right side of her face. Every time she seemed to make a point, she would lift it and park it behind her right earlobe. The rebellious tuft would not, however, stay there for long; and come back again to swing loosely, tantalizingly from where it was picked. A few seconds later, her right hand would again instinctively pick it up and quietly intertwine it around her ear.
The constant struggle made for an interesting viewing.
She did not smile even once during the conversation; all I saw was gentle parting of lips and a few creases on her face. That’s as far as she seemed to go to smile. She raised her eyebrows once or twice to acknowledge something her friends told her. A few times, I saw her flutter her eyelids to a point made by one of the women sitting across.
I never thought that I would bump into her- Megha- this way. I have not seen her for a long time. And that’s the reason she had kind of slipped out of my memory. But she was not the kind of girl you could easily forget. Never. I had known her from the college days. That was when she was chirpier; of course in the prime of her youth, and smiled more. Her smile made you smile with her no matter what your feelings were. Her face always looked fresher than daisies. Her eyes were two oceans- sometimes in churn; at other times still. You could look into them for as long as you wanted without getting bored. At 5-6, she dwarfed many around her; her leaner frame and the tightly tailored suits she wore made her an instant draw wherever she went.
She looked every bit as stunning today as she had ever in the past except that age had done to her what it does to us all. The freshness of youth and callowness had given way to dour and humorless face. When she rose to return someone’s greeting I noticed that she had put on a little bit of weight too. She tugged and pulled at her upper garment as stood up to deal with the resulting puckering or constriction. The clothes she wore now seemed to have stopped flattering her shape as they did back then.
Half an hour later, I ran into one of our common friends, who had kept company with her around the table.
” What’s up?”
“Oh, what a pleasant surprise ! Haven’t seen you for a long time. Good to see you.”
” Me too. What’s up with her?”
” Who?”
” Megha. She has lost colour. Does not seem to be the person she was. Does she?,”
” Oh yes. She has been through a bit of a trouble on the personal front.”
” Personal front ?”
” She has been through a broken marriage. It lasted for a few years, but it was a hell while it lasted. She had trouble getting her act together in the beginning. But now it seems she has picked up the threads of her life and moved on.”
” Difficult to believe that it happened to her. I always had this feeling that she had her head screwed on the right way.”
” Work life balance. You have to get the balance just about right and then hope that your partner plays ball. She got it right, but then her partner had other ideas.”
” You mean he did not want her to strike out on her own.”
” I guess, you could say that,” said she and walked away.
I thought for a while and then googled the working women divorce rate in India on my cell phone. According to a report on divorce rates across the world released in May 2023, the divorce rate in India is one percent. India has the lowest divorce rate in the entire world. Another study has it that India saw 13 divorces per 1000 marriages in the year 2019. As per another available data there has been a 350 per cent increase in divorce rates in India over the last two decades. A media report in a leading paper in the country announced that Maharashtra has the highest divorce rate with 18.7 per cent while Kerala has the lowest divorce rate with 6.3 per cent. As per National Family Health Survey of 2022, only 0.3 per cent of men and women identified as divorced. According to NFHS-5 data, between 2019 and 2021, nearly 30 per cent of women between the ages 18 and 49 faced domestic/sexual abuse. 3.1 per cent of pregnant women faced physical violence during their pregnancy. The number of incidences could be many times more as the report only mentioned about the cases that were reported. The data further revealed that 87 per cent of married women never sought help for marital violence.
I saw something interesting on another portal- over the last couple of years, there has been an upsurge in divorce rates in urban centres of the country. Kerala with its progressive and liberal social outlook has begun seeing higher divorce rates amongst educated couples. Goa, Mumbai, Bengaluru and Delhi also have high divorce rates amongst educated couples due to lifestyles changes and career oriented choices. Data does not reveal everything. But it does point to the rot that is there. While some may gloat over the low divorce rate in India, but it is hardly something to celebrate. We all know that divorce is the last resort and is used as an option only when everything else has failed to redeem the marriage. Most marriages remain trapped in misery and dishonesty due to the stigma attached with the divorce.
After I had absorbed the divorce related data, my attention turned towards the food court. Hardly had I begun walking towards the court, than I found myself staring straight at Megha. There she was bang in my way. As our eyes met, she seemed to freeze for a moment; out of disbelief, perhaps. But then her lips parted a bit and her stiff gaze relaxed. Before she could make the next move, I walked up to her.
” Good to see you after a long time.”
She nodded, even as she appeared in a bit of a pleasant shock.
” I guess you did not like me running across you,”
” No. Not all,” said she, as she kind of sized me up.
” Can I borrow you for a moment?,” said I, and pointed to an empty table not from there. I thought she would be a touch reluctant. But she turned her gaze towards the table and started walking towards it. I followed her.
” Can I get a little personal?”
” I guess, you would know your limits.”
” Oh, sure as hell.”
” I hear that you have had problem with your marriage.”
” It is more than personal.”
” I am just curious for it never crossed my mind that it could happen to you.”
” It’s over and I have moved on. I sometime feel that it happened because it had to happen. In the beginning it did hurt, but when you realize that there is no way out, there is nothing that you can do but reconcile and deal with it.”
” Hurt?,”
” I never thought someone who had wooed me like hell to marry him will be so indifferent, rather callous, later. He was simply not willing to let me discover myself in my calling. I was merely trying to guard my space, which is where I felt comfortable expressing myself, and he took it as an expression of defiance. ”
” His insecurities?”
” I don’t know he became increasingly unreasonable, and it got worse with each passing day. And I found myself trapped in a marriage that seemed like a prison. At first I did try to find a middle way, but it then got to a point where it just became impossible to continue in that relationship.”
” It must have been very hard to take the nuclear option.”
” Yes. It was a dilemma. The kind that many educated and working women face today. To walk or not to walk out of the marriage. I grappled with it, and then did what I thought was the best thing to do in the circumstances.”
” I would not go any further than this. I can see the pain it has caused you. You are indeed a strong character, Megha.”
” I did not ask you about what you have been up to. It’s been all about me”
” You did not have to. There is nothing remarkable to write home about me. This is your moment under sun, Megha, for it is not easy for a woman to hold her own in a world in which she is up against it all the time. Let’s meet again sometime. It was indeed great seeing and talking to you.”
” Me too.” As we took leave of each other, I saw her walk away from me with purposeful strides. Hardly had she moved five metres apart from me, when I called to her and said, ” You know what, you are more beautiful today than you have ever been.” My words seemed to leaven the gloom around her, and I saw her smile for the first time that evening as she turned around and walked away.
(The writer is a novelist)
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