Last year, I moved into a house on MG Road. My landlord here
is a Gujjar. He is married with four kids – two sons and two daughters. The
daughters aged 23 and 21 years are married with kids. The two sons are aged 16
and 13.
Sometime back, his wife came over to have a general
tee-a-tee with me over a cup of tea. For some time, I had been wondering about
her age as she looked quite young to me, and I would always hesitate in calling
her Aunty. I would wonder to myself as to how could a woman with four grown up
children , and grandchildren look so youthful. I asked her the question that
day.
Her answer was simple, “ My husband was married to my elder
sister. She died in childbirth, while giving birth to her third child, a son. I
was 15 years old at that time. I was asked to marry my brother-in-law. What
choice did I have? Anyways, he is good to me. The children love me, and I love
them too. Please continue to call me Aunty, as it would hurt my husband if you
call him Uncle and me by my name.” ( My landlady is younger than I am)
Three days back, I saw my landlord sitting on a chair in his
garden looking mournful. Upon inquiring, he replied, “ Bad things have happened
to us Beta. My brother-in-law’s daughter has become a widow. Her husband died
in a car accident outside his house. She has two daughters and a three month
old son. What will happen to her. She is just 24 years old. Widows do not
remarry in our caste. She will have to lead an austere life from now on. No new
clothes or jewelry for her anymore. She cannot laugh openly nor be seen
entertaining herself else society will cast shadows on her character. Her life
is gone.” And he started sobbing.
