A Memory from the Field
A small memory from the early days of helping people out.
Siyani and I were walking on the streets. I was taking her to the hospital for an unhealing lower back wound, and was furious with her for not showing up at our designated meeting point and for making me wait for hours.
Siyani was walking ahead of me. She stopped, turned towards me, and said, “Baji, mera shohar bauhut ganda aadmi hai. Iss halat may kheta hai meray saath sauo” My husband is a dirty man. Despite my wound, he forces me to sleep with him.
My face must have turned red; it did feel hot. I had neither requested nor encouraged this oversharing. This woman and I were mostly strangers. I had met her while helping her youngest child attend school. And was forced to help Siyani because her husband and son wouldn’t. Her wound would routinely be infested with maggots, and the local doctor had refused to treat her further.
Sayani had said what she had to say. We both stood on the street. It was around noon, and the sun was high and hot. Labourers were working at a nearby construction site. And a tall apartment building was casting a long shadow on the road. I looked at her. Her body was frail, her bones visible, and her back bent. Her weakness showed. She was probably younger than me but looked much older.
I recalled visiting her building that morning. It was full of garbage, and I made sure not to touch the reeling. I had been standing at the bottom of the stairs, and Siyani at the top when she had turned to show me the back of her shirt. It had large stains of pus that had oozed out of her wound.
What sort of a messed-up man would want to sleep with a woman experiencing such pain? I had seen this man, had talked to him, and I was repulsed.
I could suddenly feel the weight of it on my shoulders. I had this new realization that society can make such claims about the female body. I felt multiple emotions and one of them was fear. The best I could do was to cross my arms tightly across my chest and ask Sayani to continue walking.
***
This memory is from sometime in December ‘20 or January ‘21.
