Now, I pride myself on my curiosity and the need to know the why's and how's of everything that crosses my path but sometimes, like now, I would really like to remain ignorant and unknowing about the world around me.
We just spent a great few days in Dubai which included long, deeps breaths of fresh air, pristine roads and buildings and the best, most deliciously and unbelievably indulgent and decadent shopping experiences I've ever encountered. There is absolutely no way I could ever live there as an expat...way, way too dangerous. I never use text slang, being an English major, but OMG!
Anyway on the day we were due to return, our driver called us to tell us he had arranged a replacement driver to pick us up at the airport. We really never have a problem with this since he sometimes needs to head to his village or do something with his family. However on this occasion my husband asked him why. My hearts sinks as I write this. He told us that his wife had taken poison and was in the hospital. As you can imagine we were shocked and concerned, but Javed is a man of few words and did not say much.
When we came home the next day, we called him to check in to see how his wife was doing. Javed told us she was in critical condition and the doctors had told him that there was very little chance of recovery. We told him we would help in anyway we could but he, as usual, refused. We offered a few more times but he declined. Tears immediately sprung to my eyes as I thought about Javed losing his wife and the devastation to his children. Javed has been with us for over 2 years and I am certain that daily, I spend more time with him in the car than I spend with my own husband. He is a big part of the fabric of our lives and we care deeply for his life.
Now as my tears begin to flow, and I feel sick; I am forced to remember a book I just finished reading called "Behind the Beautiful Forevers" which is a true story based on the lives of a group of individuals who lived in a slum not far from us and the daily struggles they face. I have raved about this book to many of my friends here in Bombay because it is a real window into the lives of people we only ever see in passing. There are many shocking revelations in this book. Many unbelievable. Many heart wrenching. Many that just don't make sense. But there is one that will now throw my life upside down.
In this particular story a young girl, maybe 18 years old, takes rat poison intending to kill herself. According to this book, it is a common occurrence among women who often feel trapped and have no way out. This girl chooses to commit suicide because she can no longer handle the daily beatings she receives from her parents and brother. Because she is the girl in the family, she is worth nothing and is treated as such. This is the life of many women in India and it is better not to live than to live tortured. It is the culture among many here in this country based on tradition, religion and history.
I asked my maid why a woman might take poison and she gave me exactly the same reason.
I don't want to believe Javed's wife purposefully took poison but I don't know that I can think any differently. Of course when the time is right I will ask my driver what happened but it will not be the truth. Truth is not a valuable commodity in this country.
I have lost my belief and faith in this man and I hate that. Nothing in all of my western education or experience has prepared me for this and as I write this I have no great insights or epiphanies.
I am just sad.
We just spent a great few days in Dubai which included long, deeps breaths of fresh air, pristine roads and buildings and the best, most deliciously and unbelievably indulgent and decadent shopping experiences I've ever encountered. There is absolutely no way I could ever live there as an expat...way, way too dangerous. I never use text slang, being an English major, but OMG!
Anyway on the day we were due to return, our driver called us to tell us he had arranged a replacement driver to pick us up at the airport. We really never have a problem with this since he sometimes needs to head to his village or do something with his family. However on this occasion my husband asked him why. My hearts sinks as I write this. He told us that his wife had taken poison and was in the hospital. As you can imagine we were shocked and concerned, but Javed is a man of few words and did not say much.
When we came home the next day, we called him to check in to see how his wife was doing. Javed told us she was in critical condition and the doctors had told him that there was very little chance of recovery. We told him we would help in anyway we could but he, as usual, refused. We offered a few more times but he declined. Tears immediately sprung to my eyes as I thought about Javed losing his wife and the devastation to his children. Javed has been with us for over 2 years and I am certain that daily, I spend more time with him in the car than I spend with my own husband. He is a big part of the fabric of our lives and we care deeply for his life.
Now as my tears begin to flow, and I feel sick; I am forced to remember a book I just finished reading called "Behind the Beautiful Forevers" which is a true story based on the lives of a group of individuals who lived in a slum not far from us and the daily struggles they face. I have raved about this book to many of my friends here in Bombay because it is a real window into the lives of people we only ever see in passing. There are many shocking revelations in this book. Many unbelievable. Many heart wrenching. Many that just don't make sense. But there is one that will now throw my life upside down.
In this particular story a young girl, maybe 18 years old, takes rat poison intending to kill herself. According to this book, it is a common occurrence among women who often feel trapped and have no way out. This girl chooses to commit suicide because she can no longer handle the daily beatings she receives from her parents and brother. Because she is the girl in the family, she is worth nothing and is treated as such. This is the life of many women in India and it is better not to live than to live tortured. It is the culture among many here in this country based on tradition, religion and history.
I asked my maid why a woman might take poison and she gave me exactly the same reason.
I don't want to believe Javed's wife purposefully took poison but I don't know that I can think any differently. Of course when the time is right I will ask my driver what happened but it will not be the truth. Truth is not a valuable commodity in this country.
I have lost my belief and faith in this man and I hate that. Nothing in all of my western education or experience has prepared me for this and as I write this I have no great insights or epiphanies.
I am just sad.
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