‘The problem with women like Sheela is that they are never very assertive but they are homely and comely. “Homely and comely” I am making poetry of my own. Well, they have been taught from childhood upwards that their sole motto in life is to look after their husbands as a slave does his master and bear him children; preferably sons and keep the home in a nice, healthy order. For women like her, such a teaching is comparable to a rigid doctrine that they have to follow or else they will not be fulfilling their…what’s the word…ah…Dharma. These are mostly devout women who worship their gods and husbands as “Pati Parmeshwar” and consider it their holy duty to look after their needs and obey them without question. From that they will derive a lot of virtue and thus hope to ascend to heaven after death. Sheela belonged to that devout group of women. She had an invariegated, simple mind that accepts without question and hence such a doctrine can be easily etched in such a brain. Sheela also tended to her husband as a dutiful wife. I must also add that a woman like her should not be confused with the likes of Neelu. It is a very dangerous practice. Neelu was taught much the same things as Sheela but in a day and age when much of that arcane lesson had been reduced to just a formality and both the teacher and the student knew that the lesson was just a disguise for the real objective. In Neelu’s case, it was the education of her brothers on the sacrifice that she and her sisters gave. Her father could not afford her education and hence, instead of providing her with the bitter truth, they steeped it in lies; lies that were easily told in the guise of that arcane lesson. Neelu did not buy it as she knew the real reason for the discontinuation of her education but she had to bear it in silence because years of control, squashes any will for dissent and so she quietly accepted her fate. Therefore, she reacted so terribly when she met a woman who was everything that she could only dream of and also that her husband desired such a woman over the likes of her. Sheela, on the other hand, was under no such deception. The teacher and the student were both in the earnest when they swore on the merits of the lesson as they sincerely had as much faith in it as a devotee has in his God. So Sheela went about her duties guided by the valuable lesson that she held so dear to her heart and thus she readily ignored any little acts of neglects that she must have suffered at the hands of her husband thinking that it was but her duty to do so. So she had no complains for the most part of her life and the lesson; the doctrine was holding well. So the natural question that arises is that what changed so suddenly that a woman like her started having serious doubts about that lesson? It must have been a remarkable change similar to a man of faith, suddenly losing the same in his God. Why the change? The bitterness? The answer is simple only if we try to asses her condition come old age. The woman was suffering from arthritis and her whole body was quacking with pain from morning till dusk. She cried in her sleep and greeted morning with a long wail. My source says that the pain would sometimes reach such a crescendo that all remembrance of herself would vanish. She would sit for hours and groan, rubbing her joints with mustard oil which gave her a little respite but not for long. It was a time in her life when the strength of the lesson she had followed all her life was tested. She could not be at the beck and call of her husband all the time and he dutifully took her to the nice doctor who prescribed her medicines, a lot of messaging, a little walk and ample…well…rest. Her husband looked alright with the new arrangement and would now take care of his needs by himself. He no longer asked his wife to do this and that for him and it was in those solitary moments of rest, that she started to realize dimly at first and then with increasing strength that all that she had done for her husband for all these years was merely a time-pass; a way to occupy herself and nothing else. Her husband never needed her and he could have well looked after himself even without her. She could bear him no child and in that duty she had lacked which she tried to make up with her always being at the heels of her husband but…but now she is sick to her heart and a pain much worse than arthritis terrorizes her that she had always been but a burden that her husband had to endure. He never conversed with her much but she had always assured herself that she was still valuable to him because of the way she slogged for him and she was happy in the thought that he respected her for being the ideal wife who rigidly followed the lesson but…but…the way he now goes about his work, with not a care in the world is a sign, a horrible sign that she has had no impact on him all these years! That she has been just a burden. The realization at first hurts her and then as days pass by and the step of her husband continues to grow light, the hurt quickly changes into a deep resentment, almost close to hate. It’s funny that the man whom she once looked on as a deity was now reduced to a deceitful man who deserved nothing but her hate. As the devout falls out of faith when he suffers an unbearable loss or pain that God should have prevented, she too, lost all faith in the one virtuous lesson she grew up with. Hence the unrelenting abuses she would now hurl towards her husband before dying of a heart break. Yes, I sincerely believe that Sheela died of a heart break and not arthritis. My source tells me much the same.
Now the question arises whether Sheela meant anything to her husband or, as she painfully deduced that she was only an attachment he was forced to retain. For that, I have devised a plan with my source that would gauge his feelings and thus provide a correct answer to the question “How would the old man receive his wife”
‘Here the entry ends.’ said my friend with a long sigh. ‘So, you can see that Damyanti, whose name was also concealed by Savita as Sheela, has provided material to study another kind of woman. The dutiful one.’
‘Did he get the answer?’
‘Nothing is mentioned here.’ he said. ‘So we will have to contend with silence.’
‘So these poems set our deranged pundit in the direction of understanding women.’ I said, confused. ‘But I still can’t fathom his line of thought. Why did he accord so much importance to this ancient lyricism? It looks like a light entertainment to me and nothing else.’
‘Because.’ said my friend with a tired smile. ‘We can accord much of the culture that we boast of, to such lyrics.’
‘No!’ I cried.
‘Yes Sutte.’ said my friend. ‘They are called Vedic hymns and remain the pivot around which our culture continues to rotate.’