Our Mindset Episode 57
When my husband came home early in the morning, I told him that those men had come back last night. They were shining a flashlight through the window and saying something about me. He casually replied, “Must be the boys from the settlement. That’s always happening to you. Just go to sleep and cover your face.”
He assumed it was just the usual mischief from the local boys. He didn’t think it was worth paying attention to. But I was angrier at him than at those men. He just didn’t care.
When a woman’s husband is foolish, weak, or incapable of protecting her, that’s when others dare to trouble her. If he had just stayed back one night and chased those boys away, they wouldn’t have come back again to harass me.
If a husband can sit in the garden scrolling on his phone while someone troubles his wife, those men will surely take advantage. They probably think I won’t complain or maybe that I haven’t even told my husband about it. If I had, would he still leave me alone like this? That’s what they must be thinking.
I told him, “If you’re not going to stay, then I’ll take the kids and sleep in the garden myself.” He snapped, “Stop nagging. There’s a women’s event in the garden tomorrow. I’ve been called to town for shopping. Guests are coming. Don’t bring this up in front of everyone.”
He then took a white fertilizer sack, cut it up, hammered four nails into each window, and covered them with pieces of the sack. He told me not to go to work the next day, because guests were coming, and his aunt had asked me to stay home. I thought, fine, what difference does one day make?
His aunt’s three daughters had come home. The women in the family and close guests had brought food already prepared. I went to the garden a little late. The puja was over. The women’s seats were full. Everyone had brought a gift of clothes for Aunt Mangu. I ate with everyone and came back home.
Before leaving, they all came to our house. One of Aunt Mangu’s daughters said, “When you live on a family estate like this, you’re expected to give a gift at least once a year during Diwali. Now even Dada will have to start giving one.” Aunt Mangu agreed. After chatting for a bit, they all left for the village house.
The next day, Mangu brought me a shirt and pants and said, “Get these stitched—they’re for Diwali.” When I opened the bundle, I realized they were from the gifts he had received the previous day. Is this how you give a Diwali gift to someone?
He has a wife and two kids. One of Aunt Mangu’s daughters had brought him a T-shirt and pajama pants, saying they’d be useful for farm work. In the eight years we’ve lived on this estate, he’s probably washed their kids’ bottoms countless times. But on such a big festival, no one brought clothes for his kids.
Despite having a wife, they gave him a leftover gift, and he had the audacity to laugh and try on the T-shirt and pants in front of us, asking if they fit.