Neha Sahu
Each one of us at any given point of life goes through a fall that leads us to transformations. The path is the same for all of us, yet the journey is different for each one of us.
For thy to be found, you must be ready to be lost.
My story of falling isn’t any extraordinary, but what makes it worth a read is ‘what happened after the fall’.
The world we live in, or rather I should say the society we live in, has various norms made differently for men and women, and we must follow that to be in acceptance. Those who dare to counter, are simply discarded.
I am a woman and this is a common story of women from generations, who dared to oppose the social norms. As we know, from the very first moment when a girl child is born, the life she is going to live is already pre-defined. Her nurturing starts in a way that she grows up with all those skills and capabilities that a woman in society holds. The very first is — ‘To be a Giver’. The next is “To behave like a submissive’. The third and most strong ‘To learn to sacrifice. These three pillars build the entire life of a woman. Grow up with wild and innocent dreams, then watch them shattering one by one, for your own people to be happy. Starting from education, it’s a hard struggle for a girl child, to pursue a career of her own choice outside of her home town. The hassle is comparatively less for a boy though.
As you move into adulthood, you must get married. It’s inevitable.
No matter how far you have studied or what else you want to figure out, there is no way you can deny this social norm of marriage.
‘Get married, leave your home where you grew up, go to someone else’s house and make it home for yourself -with those same three pillars -Giver-Submissive-Sacrifice! Combining these three becomes one i.e, ‘ADJUST’. Adjust because you’re a woman. adjust because it’s your responsibility to make your husband’s house a home, adjust because it’s your responsibility to look for everyone’s happiness, adjust for sake of your parents, and adjust for the sake of “log kya kahenge’ !!!
I belong to the small town of Jharkhand, Dhanbad which is known as the coal capital of India. My father is a professor in economics, my mom is a housewife, my brother is a business analyst, and I am a ‘Fashion and Lifestyle Designer’ with Bachelor’s in textile design from Nift Delhi. Getting my career into this was a huge struggle, I guess perhaps this is when I was proven to be a rebel to my family.
After 6 years of working, I got married when I was 28. However, it wasn’t an arranged one, I chose the guy, and fell in love after 3 months of dating, I proposed to him to my parents. They agreed easily knowing me as a rebel. Hence things moved smoothly with its pace. Over the period of 1 year, both the families met multiple times, and the marriage date got fixed.
Like every other girl, “marriage’ was of course fascinating. I had my own plans to enjoy this springtime. During that time I was working as Design Lead with Ananya Birla in Mumbai. It was kind of a dream job for which my batchmates would definitely envy me. Working in top locations of India, in a sky scrapper tower, in super fancy office infrastructure, having the luxury of working from home(4 yrs before covid). Silly me, I quit this job because I wanted to enjoy married life for some time. This was my second mistake, after the first one of choosing the wrong guy as a companion.
The marriage ceremony happened in my hometown, with all the blinds. The entire expenditure was done by my father. The groom’s side did not seem to be willing to spend anything. No dowry was demanded hence papa did all expenses of almost 20 lakhs happily.
The day of marriage arrived, and yes everything went well. I got married !! And just after two hours of our marriage, the first conversation I had with my husband was him accusing my father of not making lavish arrangements and that no gifts(dowry) were given. He kept saying it for 10 min and I stood in a state of shock, thinking is he for real?
The next day I left for my new house in Noida, where I was supposed to make a Home.
The reality hit hard to me after a week when the real face of my husband started to come out, when he started to hit me, over small issues, when he and his mom started making comments over dowry, and when I got to see the real picture of marriage. Abuses all around, physical, mental, and emotional.
I was asked to cook at 2 am at night, because that was the time when my husband used to come home, and expected fresh warm food to be served on the table. A lot many times he had thrown the entire food plate on my face, because it didn’t taste well or because he came home in a bad mood. I don’t remember a single night when I slept without any drop of tears in my eyes.
The nights started to scare,
every day I used to pray,
for the night to be grey
and not dark.
Over silly little things, I was hit hard, over money and dowry, I was thrashed hard.
I tried over and over to make it better until my soul shivered.
I never thought something like this could happen to me. The guy I married isn’t him. I loved that man, while this one I can’t even recognise.
He took off his mask, just after the vows.
I found a demon, that never before I saw.
He redefined the meaning of ‘Husband’ for me,
There was a window in my bathroom, where I used to stand for hours, wondering if this little rectangle could help me find my way to freedom. Not that I didn’t try to raise my voice, but every time I did, a few bunches of slaps and abuses, pushed me to shut off.
One day I asked my mother-in-law, “why don’t you stop him ever, can’t you see my pain, can’t you see how violent he is, can’t you see that demon coming over every night’’? And the answer I got, I can never forget what she said to me. “Itna acha ghar diya rehne ko, ache kapde diye pehnne ko, acha khana milta hai, zara si uski zubaan gandi hai toh tum adjust nai kar skti (he gave you a such good house, good fashionable clothes to wear, fancy food to eat, can’t you adjust a bit if he has got a little rude tone)”, these were the exact words that shattered me from the core. It was the first time when I felt something has moved inside of me.
Until here, I didn’t disclose anything to my parents. And how could I, what would I say, after all, it was my decision to get married to this man?
Gradually my physical body started giving signals of the danger I was into. Anxiety attacks started to appear, breathlessness, numbness, a state of being where I suffocated till I fainted. And all of these seemed a drama to my Husband. Whenever these attacks came over, he ignored me saying “the drama has now begun”.
Helplessly one day I called my parents and told them the entire struggle I was going through. At first, they listened to me, understood the situation, and then said “now you’re married, and whatever it is, good or bad it’s your responsibility to make it better. And after all, it was your decision to get married to someone out of our caste and culture, we can’t help you anyway”.
More than anything else, this response shattered me the most.
Had I been earning right now, then the situation would be different. I left my super fancy high paying job to get married and enjoy life. Little did I know, that leaving that job was the biggest blunder I did to myself. I tried hard to find a job nearby but couldn’t get any. Perhaps because when your energy is negative, everything around you turns negative.
The situation remained the same or even worse, 4 months pass by. The picture of marriage turned upside down for me. I could never understand the term’ Husband’. What I knew before marriage was ‘a companion’, but what I got after marriage was ‘a demon’.
But aren’t all husbands I have seen since my childhood are same…whether it’s my mom’s husband, my masi’s, or my aunt’s…more or less they all are the same. Hitting their wives, shouting, screaming, abusing. I have seen this all around since ever. So, how can I be spared? after all, I am a woman too !! This reality hit me hard!
To make that marriage work, I gave everything that I had, all my strength, my patience, tolerance…but there comes a level of saturation when you’re over with it. When you are left with no choice but do it or leave it.
6th month, my subconscious started finding a way out of this life. My heart was screaming for freedom. My soul was dying every day like I could feel my body, but no soul within.
I told my husband and mother-in-law that “I need to find a job now, it’s high time and I can’t be at home forever. I have tried to find opportunities in Delhi but couldn’t find one, hence I would go to Mumbai for some time because over there I have people and networks”. This excuse worked, and they couldn’t say no… A week later, I packed just a few pairs of clothes and left for Mumbai. Little did they know, this silly woman is never going to come back.
Aahhh.!! Such a relief to breathe again. Here I land in Mumbai. In a city where I have lived before, I know people around. I was sure I would find people who can help me to deal with the situation. The day I landed, I went to a friend’s place, one from my college. Told her I will stay for a week until I find a place to stay. Rolled my eyes over the contact list, and called all my friends and known people in the city. Apparently, all of them were either busy or said NO on my face -’ because they didn’t want to get involved in my personal matter’, they considered my situation as a personal matter and asked me to deal with it on my own.
Helplessly I called my mom and asked if I can come home for some time. And her reply! , I remember those exact words, which shook me from within, which broke me more than anything else that was happening around me, which came to me as a hard truth of a woman’s life. She said” kya karogi yaha aker, tumhara ghar waha noida me hai, shadi ho chuki hai tumhari, ya toh wapis wahin chale jao ya phir humko bhul jao. Yaha mat ana, log kya kahenge wrna” (your home is there in Noida, this isn’t your home anymore, you’re married now. Go back or don’t call me again. If you come here, then what would people say)” !!
A hard question in a woman’s life — ‘Where is Her Home’ ??
While I was a young girl, Mom used to say “daughter behave properly, you belong to your husband’s house”! After I am married, the husband said, “ Woman, you’re a lot to be torn, go to the house you were born”!
I realised, how important it is for a woman to be earning and own a house because, in our society, the given house is always a barrier to her freedom !!
After a week I had to leave that friend’s place, and look for someplace by myself.
I had some 2 lakh in my account at that time. And no other source of earning. Had no idea for how long will I survive with this much money, that too in the costliest city. Took a hotel in Mahim for time being, and started finding a PG. oh hell, it’s easy to find peace than accommodation here in Mumbai. 15 days went by, and no luck. I found a single room in boys’ pg though in 25000/- a month rent, that was the only option I had. Better than paying 1500/- every day to that hotel. I took it. Now the challenge was to start earning asap. This is how my physical world was moving.
Ask me about the mental world. There was a roller coaster going on inside. It has been almost a month by now, the anxieties are on top, most of the time I am breathless, trying hard to breathe and feel sane. Sleep was far off my reach, could barely sleep for an hour or two. It was getting worse day by day. Millions of questions inside..no answer for any of them.
I tried alcohol, cigarettes, and even weed to give some relief and sleep for some time at least.
I tried harder and harder every hour. Yet, the more I tried, the harder it became.
I tried to look for jobs and sent more than 50 applications every day. But no luck from anywhere. 1.5 months passed by now. Yet no sleep!
Felt like Sleep was a luxury which I couldn’t afford!
There was a window in that pg where I stood for hours, looking outside, watching people moving in the run from morning till night till morning till night… the loop remained the same. Kept standing there for a week, waiting for someone to come and help me, give me hand hold so that I can live again. I was literally dying every single hour.
Hallucinations started happening…I was awake all the time for the past 2 months. My body felt like a living dead person, much like a zombie. You can’t imagine how a living person could feel when he hasn’t slept for two months continuously. I could feel my body, but not my mind. I could feel the blood running, but no soul. I could feel the air inside yet hard to keep breathing! That was the time when I felt death and life both at the same time. There was just a difference of fine thread in between them. This is when my body mind and soul, were on the verge of giving up.
“Is there anyone going to come to save me? What happens if I die the next moment? Will this make things any better? would anyone grieve for me? Is this it? My life is going to end this way? is my story going to end here? “
These questions hit me with the speed of a missile, and at that very moment, something changed inside me. A voice came from inside “ I am going to live” !!
The next day, I decided to go to a psychiatrist, because if I want to live then sleep was the first thing I needed to fix. Although the thought of going to a psychiatrist was dreadful, it was scary and much more challenging for me. Gathering all my courage I left for his clinic.
When I entered the doctor’s cabin, I sat there on a chair opposite him, he started asking questions and I couldn’t speak a single word. Tears started rolling down..didn’t stop for half an hour. That was the first time I cried in front of a stranger that too for half n hour in a go. I praise him to let me cry my heart out and for watching me do that patiently. After then we had some Q&A and he prescribed a few medications to sleep. I came back home. Had early dinner, had my medicines and lay in bed.
That night was a game changer !! after such a long time, I slept for 7 hours. The person who got up the next morning was not the same. I slept as ashes in-ground while waking up as a phoenix. A sense of power, courage, strength, fire, and energy all of it flowing within me. I felt some kind of transformation. I went for a haircut that day and chopped my waist-length hair into a short blunt. Hell yeah !! felt like I finally own myself now. That feeling was incredible I must say.
That night I took up my journal and wrote a few lines — “Living with your pain and conquering it every moment, is another kind of salvation”. These words just came on their own which felt like a lifetime. While writing in that journal that day, I discovered the power of writing. That day I didn’t stop for 4–5 hours. Kept writing. I realised how light I feel today.
That day I found another home- ‘While on the verge to sink, I found a home in between paper and ink.’
I wrote day and night for 3 months. Felt like there is some fire igniting inside, burning for years to spill out. I had never felt this much connected to myself ever before like I have just started to know ‘Me’. The deeper I dived, the more lights came in. To the darkest of places inside, finally, the lights started to move in. And in the process, I rediscovered myself through writing. Since then, writing became food to my soul. I wanted to write my story of fallings, not for myself, but for all those women who are struggling to find their freedom.
Simultaneously looking for a job, going for interviews.
6 months pass by yet not a single hope. ‘Now I don’t have any money left, just the last 15k. If I don’t find a job this month, then I won’t be able to survive anymore in this city’. It was kind of an alarm, and I was clueless. What would happen if I don’t find a job, where will I go? Where will I stay? too much pressure inside of my head, like it, will just blow off like smoke in the air. I told to myself that okay, if not then I will join some call centre and look for any cheapest option to stay over. And will figure out something for me for sure. And thinking of this I slept.
The next morning, I got a call from Raymonds, saying I have been selected, for the Associate Designer position and was required to join within 15 days.
Doesn’t it feel like a miracle? , yeah, that was the first day when the magic started happening around me. Happiness running all over my veins. A feeling of relief and contentedness.
Although the position and salary offered were of a fresher level, and not relevant to my prior experience of 6 years. But since I had a gap of 1 year in my profile, this was the only option for me. And I said to myself, ‘no worries this is the time to start fresh from here.
I would say this is where my second life started.
I shifted to Thane and took a pg for a few days until the first salary comes in. And joined on the given date. The first few days were induction and paper works. Everywhere I wrote separated my marital status. And it was no longer that this tag of ‘’separated girl spread across my new team. People made such judgements I can’t explain. A lot of them would ask me, you don’t look like you were married. I thought why is it a big deal for them if I am single or married or separated? But then I thought I can’t change them, so better change myself. Let them judge me. It’s a truth that I am separated, and I don’t want to hide it either, so let’s wear my truth as my pride. With my head high and chin up, I sooner became the most talked girl inside my office campus. Unapologetic me, walking around in heels of pride, with ash blond hair highlights, I was known as the girl of mystery and fright.
I enjoyed the attention though !!
Work-life started, but writing never stopped. I was determined to write my story and publish it as my identity. For the world to know the strengths of separated women.
Handling everything on my own, conquering little struggles every day, I was healing gradually.
After 3 years, Covid hit us.
This was when the second transition happened. I was anyways living alone. So staying at home 24 hours didn’t bother me much, instead gave me a window to dive deeper within myself. I continued to enjoy writing even more. The first draft of the book was a biography in form of prose. But after half done, I realised why would anyone read a biography of a common girl, neither the story is different nor the battles. I discarded the first draft.
Meanwhile, on the work front, my salary has been slashed in half, because of covid. Where hundreds of people were laid off, I was in relief of at least having a 50% salary. Taking care of house rent, and other expenses were almost impossible in that much amount. I was clueless about how to keep staying here in the city. I forgot to mention earlier that I have been a self-learned artist, and have done 2 exhibitions before. Thought to use this skill for my financial crunch. The next day I made my first painting after years and put it on Instagram. Two days later, I got a query from someone, who was interested to buy that piece. And I sold that painting for 15k. See how the magic happens when you don’t quit.
Followed to this, I got another commissioned work from one of my friend, which was to make a portrait for her. And this continued, after which I made paintings for worth 30–80k. And all of it within a period of 6 months.
While on the writing front, I continued to write. The second one I wrote in a mixture of poetry and prose, yet it didn’t feel like doing justice to the journey of a common woman.
And the final draft I wrote in all poetry. I feel poetry is the strongest form of literature and a much more powerful language. We can write about an entire lifetime in mere four lines !! Poetry is the one that gave me the strength to live and the courage to write. Therefore I narrated my journey, weaved in poetry.
After a year, the book became — One Vulnerable Dot and I became the ‘author OVD’.
The book cover is hand painted.
I kept OVD as my pen name because this name is the voice of my life.
Today I am an Author, an Artist, a Fashion & Lifestyle Designer and a Social Media Strategist.
