Life as a divorcee

Before proceeding with the details below I should like to talk about what happened last night and this morning.  Some words spoken by a family member hurt me at the core and I could think of nothing except to end my life.  I went through my routine activities as usual (habits die hard), while all the time I was contemplating the swiftest way to end my life.  Won’t go into the gory details but yes when I lay down I prayed it would be my last sleep on this earth. I even wrote a mail to a close friend saying – I do not wish to see another light of day.  I did not die in the night, woke up, said my prayers silently in bed as usual and the first thought that came to my mind was that of Savarkar and his prison cell in Cellular Jail.  You can see a picture of it on this site:  http://www.tripadvisor.in/LocationPhotos-g297584-d499995-w4-Cellular_Jail-Port_Blair_South_Andaman_Island_Andaman_and_Nicobar_Islands.html#last   I had been to the jail in 1971 with my flight crew (I was an airhostess with Indian Airlines once upon a time) and had seen the pitch black cell where the freedom fighter had been imprisoned.  God reminded me of something I had seen more than 40 years ago – why?  To let me know to be careful of what I wish for (not see another light of day?).  I am grateful for this lesson.  Another thing that I think I understood is that when a person commits suicide it is because of some terribly deep hurt which triggers the fatal action. 

Now going back to my life as a divorcee – it was not a breeze and neither was it all misery.  It was a package deal and taught me a few lessons in life.

1.  Society at large does not sympathise with a divorcee but can have empathy for even a shady widow.

2. A divorcee is taken to be an easy lay by men, because she has just left a man and is presumably looking for a new bed partner.  The approaches have been overtly crude and direct at times.

3. A divorcee is generally shunned at social gatherings by married women of her age – their fear that the divorcee is out to grab their husbands.  Slowly you start feeling like an outcast.  Young unmarried men would be tarred if seen talking to a divorcee and the family would bend backwards to get him married off to a suitable virgin.       

4. I also made good friends of both the sexes during this period, friends who stood by me without wanting anything in return.  I am still in touch with those who are still alive.  

5. Being a divorcee also meant having a price tag rumoured around in hushed voices.  But life still went on. 

   

I remember the evening I left the above address – I had put our personal belongings and the kids into the taxi and turned to say something to Rooma.  But I could not stop myself from saying “God bless you” and rushed inside the cab and drove off.  This is the gate where I took my leave while the yoga classes were still going on the left side.  The house in the extreme right is the one bequeathed to the grandsons; the first floor to my brother-in-law’s 2 sons and the second floor to my 2 sons, even before they were born, by their grandmother, late Ava Rani Bose, who died on 2^nd July 1976. 

I stayed at my parents’ for the first month with my little daughter as I had admitted my 2 sons into KNH (German) contributed concession boarding in St. Thomas School, Kidderpore.  My parents were sympathetic and the relations became over-sympathetic (very uncomfortable).  Questions were raised in seeming concern and I grabbed the invitation from a friend in Delhi to spend sometime with her.  When my daughter (who I had to admit in St. Thomas School for girls) and I returned from Delhi my mother said relatives were worried about my younger sister’s chances of getting good marriage proposals with a divorced elder sister in the same house.   It hit me like a ton of bricks, added to the fact that I would be asked to attend weddings in the family circle as an after thought like – ‘you must also come with your children’, were just plunging the painful dagger deeper into my heart.  I also understood my mother’s predicament and as luck would have it I came across an old friend who was looking for a flat mate.  By this time I had acquired a job and my parents wanted my daughter to stay back with them, so things started to fall in place albeit slowly. 

First we put up in small place in south Calcutta and then we were able to find a wonderful ground floor flat in cornfield road.  The elderly landlady Mrs.Guha just wanted to meet our parents before the final deal was made.  So my mother and my friend’s father arrived on the given date and we became legal tenants in a great locality. 

The locality mattered to me a lot because I did not want my kids to come home and mix with undesirable children; so even if the rent was high my friend and I felt happy and compromised on other things.  Like on food and some avoidable luxuries till such time when my kids came on holidays.  My friend’s son would visit us sometimes as he lived with his paternal grandparents and aunt who doted on him.

A couple of times when we (my friend and I) could afford it we took the children to the nearby Chandipur sea beach.  Visits to the Calcutta Zoo, New Market, and Park Street especially in Christmas time and relatives’ homes were also frequent.  The point was to keep life as near normal as possible for my children.  I still do not know whether I have been successful in my endeavours.    

During this time my job required me to visit certain places in South India and in the bargain got to see the Tirupati temple (evenings are out of this world with the voice of Lata Mangeshkar reciting the stotras on the public system all over the hills) and the Meenakshi temple.  I also had the fortune to socialise with certain Maharajas and Maharanis.  Yes life was not all that bad. 

Coming back to reality practical everyday life was becoming harassing, in spite of loyal friends.  It was 1985 (3 years as a divorcee gone by) and I met George Shalom.  A most ordinary, hardworking, divorced person and we soon tied the knot.  The foremost thought on my mind was to provide a normal home to my children.  My friend too settled down with someone who had a similar background.  The story from here is long, eventful, tearful, joyful – a roller-coaster ride.