My husband, the alchoholic

Inspired by a true incident

I'm waiting up. I don't know how long i need to. I don't know if he'll even come home. But, out of sheer hope in the lord i sit up, meddling with the numerous holes that have sprung up from nowhere in my saree. I have only 4 of them. All 4 which my mom and dad gave as dowry when i married him. That was ten years ago. Now these sarees are crushed, faded, smelly and torn.

I hear the sound of scuffling feet. I look up expectantly but i'm disappointed. It was only a dog. I go back to examining my now gray,but once cream coloured saree. I'm upset. It's almost 2 in the morning. I know, by now, what state he will come back home in. Sigh! I want to run away. It's a torture waiting up everyday wondering if he'll come back home a husband or a killer.

I've grown used to it. Ten years of beatings, thrashings, swearing have made me immune to it. Right now, all i do is bear it and let it go. What else can i do? I'm uneducated, my parents have passed on, i have two kids who i want to bring up in life and i have no job of my own. I want to work but he won't let me. If i run away how would i bring up my kids? How would i make them study? I want my kids to earn alot more than i ever will in my lifetime.

My ears perk up. I hear his voice. Oh no, not again. He's been drinking. There, i see him; shirt unbuttoned, sticking out of his khaki auto-driver uniform pant. His hair askew, hands flapping around, one around a bottle that was almost empty. I knew for sure that this must've been this fourth or fifth bottle. Sigh... i'm in for a reckless night.

"You wretched woman.. where are you?", he said coming inside the hut we call home. I got up and went to him, pulling his free hand over my shoulder, guiding him inside. "Let go of me.. you think i can't walk? Let go", he said swaying violently as i let go of him for a few seconds. He slumped to the ground and demanded his dinner.

I placed the food before him and he looked at it suspiciously for a long time. "Are you sure you didn't poison it you wretched thing? I know you want to kill me. The rice looks oddly discoloured. You eat it first and show me that its safe". I obliged. I ate a couple of hand fulls before he pushed my hand away and started gobbling it down.

As he was eating, he spotted a stray hair in his food. That was the beginning of the most horrible night of my life. "You BITCH!", he screamed, running at me, throwing the plate at my face. It struck me on my forehead and i started to bleed. Before i could gain balance, he slapped me right across my face. Finger marks etched themselves onto my skin. The stinging pain brought tears to my eyes. I don't cry. I don't like to cry. But i couldn't help it.

Another blow followed, this time on my stomach, sending me reeling backwards. The pain was just starting to set in. Blow after blow followed. At the end of it, i was on my back, pinned to the ground with a black eye, a torn lip and a cut across my forehead. The numbing pain in my stomach and back was driving me insane.

Why am i subject to such torture? What did i ever do wrong? I've been thrashed, kicked, spat on, trodden upon, dragged, pulled, pushed, slapped and belted. What more do i need? I have to do something. I'm sick and tired of being an object of ridicule when i tolerate his sick behavior, his drinking, his abuse. I won't take it anymore. I just can't put up with this again.

I look up at him, a new fire alight in my eyes. I've never felt so vengeful before. I want him to feel my pain. I want him to know how it is to be abused physically and mentally every single day of your life. I want him to suffer, every single minute. There is a change within me. I am more stronger than i can be. It has to be tonight or it will never be. I understand that now...

He is coming at me again, his slippers in his hand. I grope around me and find something. I don't know what it is. He lunges at me and with every inch of strength that i can muster, i strike with my weapon.


Sound of body meeting the ground. There is a pool of blood. My internal fire is quenched. Panting, i look at his lifeless body. I had pierced his heart with a knife. For a moment, my feelings are down. I look around, depressed. After a few moments, i stepped out into the night.

I looked up and i laughed


Kitty said...

I am happy that u r back in the net after a week.

I am not so sure but I guess there are a few ashrams that help such ppl.. but the problem is they couldn reach the ppl. Wish I could be of some help..

Elithraniel Arawion said...

hey kitty

thanks :)

Elithraniel Arawion said...

and yes, the lady i was talkin abt is now in one such institution... :)

mayz said...

how come this post update showed up only tdy on my blog???

anyway i must say i totally enjoyed d last line!!!

Elithraniel Arawion said...

@ mayz

ur blog doesn't like me :( nice pic btw

Archana said...

Yeah. As someone above said, the post update was not visible in blog even!

Good wordplay.You could write like this too!Kudoos!:-) Inspired by Jagmohan Mundra's 'Provoked'?

Coming back to the post,, its critical to find the society injected with such people. Women have slowly started to come out, which is a very good sign on establishments of equality. But things like this continue to happen, news that never makes headline but atleast manages to find its hotseat in a corner column. Perhaps, its got nothing to do with rights. Just ensure that come what may , one must be able to speak out for oneself-for nothing , but independence and self-sustenance counts, irrespective of the gender! Rights for a human.
Apologies for a long comment. I know you don't mind:P

Keshi said...

Was this great post influenced by the movie Provoked?


Moonlight n Magnolias said...

What dee... ore the depressing posts... but I liked the climax...!!! Women dont deserve to be treated like that!! And drinking men need to learn a lesson!

Elithraniel Arawion said...

@ archana

your right maaaa

@ keshi

not really :P i didn't think of it when i wrote the post.. mayb it look that way

@ iyshu

yes they must b taught a lesson