Amma talks…
The doorbell rang. Twice
My heart sank. He’s here.
My attention was on the door as my sister hurried out of the kitchen and opened it, slightly, only to have it pushed hard into her face. She stepped back, clutching her face.
My husband stepped inside, hands outstretched, apologetic, careful to avoid touching her
Then he turned to me, blocking my path to the still open door, as always, making escape impossible
Maybe it was the dim lighting in the room, maybe it was the stress of the day that made me recall a film I’d seen, a group of policemen interrogating a lone, young, tiny, boy. Their faces scowling, baton in hand, two of them had belts at the ready. The room was lit by a single light bulb.
I felt sick then
I feel sick now
A slight pull of my saree
Pari
Clutching my saree, watching wide-eyed as her father moved his eyes from my fearful face and fixated on her
He: Do you know how many problems you have created? DO YOU KNOW?
Pari jumped, her face crumpled
My sister tried to reason, her voice small: She’s so small, mistakes happen, we shouldn’t…
Red eyes on Pari, his breath in short noisy spurts
I pushed Pari behind me, blocking her against… against what? The rage of a father, 8 times her age, more than 3 times her size! Why was I blocking her?
If a cockroach flies into my house, I find ways to get it out! I do not hide the child!
And from deep within a wail arose, a wail that promised to send me into a paroxysm of tears
No help, no answers, this constant crying
My sister was scared too, she stood by the partly open door, nursing a bruise on her face, transfixed as my husband prepared to strike
HURRY! GET HELP! CALL THE POLICE!
I surprised myself
And with that, the tears stream out of my eyes as my husband softens his stance immediately
He turned to my sister, her hand was slowly widening the door.
For a second, I thought he would hit her. Instead, he straightened up, smiled at her: Your sister is overreacting. As usual.
She was shaking her head: You look like a mad dog out to kill! I’m getting help
His tone changed as he turned to me: Bitch! See what you have done!
In a move that I am grateful to my sister for, she opened the door wide and ran out
Soon, a few people were peering into the house. Strangers walked in and surrounded my husband, in that tiny space. One man, taller and wider than my husband strode up.
His tone was kind: Sir, you look so smart. So well-educated! Such a gentleman! How can you do this? Where is the child, ma’am?
I looked down. I looked behind
Where’s Pari? Pari!
And from UNDER the sofa
Amma! I’m here!
And the kindly man, came up to the sofa and knelt right down…
‘Aaja, baby, come, come out. Your Daddy won’t hit you, aaja, aao…’
Pari crawled out from under the sofa, edged along the sofa into a corner of the wall
The kind-seeming man turned to me: Ma’am, be nice to him, be kind to him, your husband needs it…
I looked at the ‘kind’ man. Don’t I know the type? Advice, advice and more advice. Without knowing anything
Poor child stands, eyes fixed on her father, body trembling.
Trapped.
As soon as these neighbours were gone, he’d…
I WON’T let him
My voice came out, quavering… Ha-Has anyone called the police yet?
My husband spoke quietly, a tone I have not heard him use before: No, please don’t call anyone. This is our family issue, I’ll resolve it. You all, please leave
NO! NO!
He looked at me, his face pleading: Please? Give me a chance. I won’t hit her. I won’t hit you
My stupid heart, my stupid brain, stupid meek me
I relented
Okay? All settled? Arre, the couple has made peace, why are we waiting?
The crowd left. The dimly lit room was silent. My sister had kept the door open.
He: Let’s go back home
I turned to Pari
Oh no! I’m caught in a maze of my own making!
My sister intervened: No! This child has suffered too much. Father volatile! Mother weak! Children need quiet to grow properly. They will come tomorrow. You please leave.
He: Why are you breaking up our family?!!
My sister: You’re a good man. You are trying to bring up your children with good school, good studies, but, what of the home? Why can’t you be nice?
My husband looked hurt, poor man. I’m sure my sister is trying to help me but, can’t she see? My husband has learnt his lesson… poor man, now he’s sad
My husband kept his eyes on me as he walked out, shutting the door behind him
My sister crossed the room, picked up my daughter and hugged her.
Pari’s entire body is trembling, she can’t talk, she’s just trembling
Flip-flop mom, huh? Or is she just new to the idea of standing up for herself?
That is why, we have to teach our children, from the time they are very young, to stand up for themselves, to value self, to fight back
And the father? Raging and apologetic. Wave after wave.
As for Pari? That trembling is the nervous system’s response to extreme stress
My book of short stories, The Violent Potter, is available on Amazon. The book is intended for an audience of parents, teachers and grandparents of young children
Link: http://tinyurl.com/466tvf5f
Each story highlights the gap between adult expectations and child perspective. The book is in two parts, Part 1 sees the impact of the gap while Part 2 sees what happens when someone fills the gap with loving perspective.
And… I vlog too, here:
https://www.youtube.com/@violentpotter/playlists