Me-Too : Nayeema Ahmad Mahjoor

Me-Too

Nayeema Ahmad Mahjoor 

(Penguin author and senior journalist) 

She met me at the Delhi airport. 

Aghast, dishevelled, and wrinkled.... this was all she had become now, once an all-time favourite of teachers and a heart-throb of Law faculty at Kashmir University.

She was not the one I often dreamt of befriending during my carefree days. We were flies, circling her to get noticed. But, she would keep reading books under the shade of the Chinar tree at the back of our Nasimbagh campus. It was not her pride in ignoring us but a passion for reading fiction. 

The boys in our class would fight to reserve a seat next to hers and get in her good books.

Laila was born with many qualities: beauty, wealth, and intelligence. I had learned that we are never perfect. It was not true in her case. She was perfect, rather the symbol of perfection. God had been generous to her. She possessed everything one could only dream of. She was the queen of our law faculty, where three hundred fifty-five boys were dreaming of becoming king of her heart.

On the day we departed, with tears, uncertain futures, and heartbreak, she did not shed a tear or feel emotional. On the contrary, she was rejoicing with the degree in hand as she handed her books to the chauffeur waiting to drive her home. 

Then, one day, a piece of news broke that she had married an influential politician who was her father's choice; rather, a gift to the whole clan of Mir's family. Her father knew this match would bring fame and fortune to the whole family. One day, the daughter will become one of the power centres of the Valley, where every decision will be taken only after her seal.

In our society, only powerful people survive; the rest live like paupers. Any doctor or engineer was never acceptable to her father. He would always ridicule them, "they work like donkeys all the time. We need powerful women at the helm of affairs, for which a political husband can become a ladder". He sought an extraordinary man of wealth and authority for his only daughter. So, a politician was the best choice. All matchmakers were promised a large reward for finding this match. In the past, Kings and queens would invite the most influential people to arrange marriages for their daughters. The old custom was revived for Laila. And, it worked. 

After a long search, a politician's husband was found and tied in a relationship that proved to be a jackpot for the family. From brothers to relatives to distant cousins, everybody got a huge cache of political fortune. Free plots, free housing, free tours, and free contracts were the fortune Laila's family had been entitled to. 

Laila liked helping her family and continued to grow her influence.

Laila became more generous, more charming, and more intelligent. Even her beauty had become political. She got involved in active politics and attended the milling crowd her husband used to represent. Her husband felt very pleased with the way she was handling his political affairs. "She had become more mature, scheming and twisted, as is needed for the politics". He would often confide in his mother.

Life had become one big globe for Mirs, revolving around money, travel, and shopping. She loved every bit of it.

It changed all of a sudden after a few years. She found herself caught in a dangerous web of deceit, betrayal, and corruption. Her mother-in-law had advised her the first day she stepped into the house that “you have to learn the art of chess since you have become part of this family; you must play chess with every relative, friend, or acquaintance. It will only keep you relevant because your husband and my son have been the champions of this game. He has even defeated me many times. That is why he has become more powerful in his clan”. 

 

At such times, Laila would remember her mother used to say, "Every fruit-bearing tree has to bend down".

  

Something happened in the family which she didn't figure out. Her husband had to disappear from the political landscape for a long time. She did not comprehend the situation but dealt with this stark reality very maturely. There was no one, not even a father, who could come, comfort, and give some clue. Yet, she remained steadfast and never left her home to strangers.

Over time, she saw the number of visitors decline. The relatives had altogether disappeared. Mother-in-law had left and joined her other son in the Middle East. Laila was left alone in a mansion, wandering around. Empty, decorated rooms with huge, illuminating chandeliers gave her the creeps. They had all lost relevance.  

One evening, as she was turning off the lights to go to bed, her husband appeared at the door with a young girl. She was thinking, "Is this him with a girl, or is this wild imagination?" Before she took a step forward, her husband was giving strict instructions on how to look after the young girl who would be sharing his bedroom as his second wife. 

Laila couldn't believe that a disappeared politician cum husband appeared from nowhere in the darkness with a young and beautiful girl. He didn't even greet her or ask how she had been all these years of emptiness. 'Do relations lose significance just like this?

Time just stopped, so did stop a beat in her heart.....

"What is going on?" she wanted to ask him, but he had already left, asking the driver to bring the suitcases into the room.

She was gazing at the young girl who seemed lost in the twinkling diamonds in the bracelet in her hand. 

She had to swallow her pride and accept fate.

Everyone comes for help when you are powerful, but nobody gives a damn when you have fallen from grace. That is what happened to this political family. Nobody even looked at them, let alone came to talk to or comfort Laila. She had to endure the shame of living like a second-class citizen all alone.

“I wanted to talk about this undignified life with my husband, but couldn't dare because he would not let me mention this issue except politics. If I tried to persist, he would start shouting at me. I was sure that I would have to end up in the grave if I again mentioned my pain of living like a beggar in his house”. Her voice broke while whispering in my ear. 

For a long time, she kept looking at me, rather staring at me, as if she was recollecting the memories of carefree days when she would often belittle me.

We sat together in the airport lounge for a long time and started to recollect our memories over coffee.

“You were born with many qualities; did they not help?” I asked without returning her stares.

"My marriage was my father’s choice, and I accepted it wholeheartedly. Even then, I put all my efforts into it to make it successful. Once, he disappeared for a few years and lived with a girl half his age. I froze, but soon accepted it and moved on. I thought he would realise and come back to me. Next time, he came with another woman. I felt disowned and unwanted. I continued my broken relations. Sometimes I would find him brooding and cursing God. Then, all of a sudden, our house turned into a “women’s world”. I turned into a freak. I was left in a corner to cry. I have no kids, no job, and no prospects. There was no help from any quarter. Even my father disowned me. Yes, I lived on his fortunes. I had to reconcile with this arrangement that I need money to lead my life”. She said without punctuation. 

“Where are you living now?” I asked her after a lot of effort.

“Hyderabad, I have a small flat there. I work in one of the Muslim orphanages. Looking after orphans gives me the only reason to live and a little comfort too”. She didn’t look straight into my eyes….

I was lost on the university campus, which I thought had given all of us confidence, a future, and hope for a better understanding, a better life, and dignity, but who knew that not all were so lucky. One among us who was born with a silver spoon had lost everything, even her beauty, her face had more wrinkles than me, and I felt ache inside...

“How about you?” Are you still writing those imaginary stories of love, affection, and relations? Are you still living in that fantasy world?” She said with sarcasm.

I had difficulty summing up six decades of my life in a few sentences. I just smiled, but I knew she had touched my inner chord of life. And, I had got the master's in hiding the book of my life. She didn't wait any longer and started quizzing.

"Oh, you are as miserable as ever. You have not changed, same timid and feeble girl. Keeping up the appearance that all is rosy”.

With a lot of courage, I said, "I was not beautiful either. I always kept that in mind".

“Who are you living with and where are you going?" She asked while looking at her mobile.

"I am living with my family, which includes my husband, my kids,  members of my in-laws, and sometimes my maternal relations. And, I am going to Hyderabad for the MeToo event, which victims of sexual harassment have organised." I spoke in a hurry.

She thought I was making another story and said, "Lucky you, big family, kids and old people, but doesn’t this family give you creeps. Who are in-laws, those who skin off your flesh, or the husband who had lived in his secret world all his life or the kids who take pity on you, typical Kashmiri women, keeping everything buried in the chest and then bragging like a cow?" She became hysterical. She was embarrassing me in the presence of passengers who were all looking at us in amazement.

I didn’t bother to calm her down. She had become so outrageous and furious that it was difficult to stop her. Luckily, her phone rang, and she turned her face towards the corridor. The expressions on her face changed like Chinar leaves change colour in autumn. 

I had to rush to a security check, but she came up behind me and hugged me. “Have you ever believed in this: what comes around goes around? It has happened. The MeToo movement has also come to my rescue. My husband has been booked for sexual harassment by the same women he used to bring home as his friends. My lawyer has just called me”. Her face had turned red like a Kashmiri Chili as if she had won a trophy after a long battle. 

She was running fast to catch her plane. I was stuck at the gate, which I had to go through for a security check-up. 

I couldn’t contemplate at the moment whether she was more beautiful than during university days or whether she had a new glow on her face now, at the airport. It was the best example to mention in the MeToo conference today, but how shall I describe it to my audience? Was MeToo giving justice to those women whose chastity had been robbed, or has it brought relief to those wives whose husbands are coming back to their bedrooms? 

I started jotting down a few points on the paper as soon as I grabbed my seat on the plane.

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