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The divorce conundrum

Humra Quraishi writes on two high-profile divorces – one of them is the story of Kamal Amrohi and Meena Kumari.

What a storm has arrived in Kerala…all hell broke loose after minister Ganesh Kumar filed for divorce from his wife of 16 years, Yamini, on grounds of harassment and manhandling. And though marital storms hit most marriages at some point of time, in our country we are seemingly well-trained in perpetuating the myth of happiness even when we’re trapped in loveless, incompatible marriages.

The question remains: why carry on a mismatched marriage and drag it to the point that it blows up all over, or in Ganesh Kumar’s case, all over the State? What is this madness of dragging along a dead marriage, whether at the ministerial level or at own homes?

Today, of course, there are some brave souls who are choosing to part ways once they sense their onw incompatibilities, but most people don’t. This latter class of people chooses to be stifled and stranded in suffocating marriages for the sake of others.

Socially, the very word ‘divorce’ is still a taboo in our society, and the minute you declare your divorced status, you are looked at with different eyes. Even strangers throw weird glances at you, if not come right out and comment on the collapse of your marriage. When I opted for a divorce after trying to drag along a mismatched marriage for 28 long years, I can’t begin to describe how people’s attitude changed towars me. Several of my so-called friends also became fence-sitters, and from their safe perch, they would throw a lot of inquisitive questions at me.

But in the last few years, I’m seeing many people ending their marriages. In my own clan, there have been eight divorces and many more are announcing the end of their marriages. It is tough to announce it, and then face the world while you soldier on alone, on a rather rough path. If only Ganesh Kumar and Yamini (in pic on right) had done exactly this, then things would probably not have taken such an ugly turn, with everyone commenting and throwing in their two cents’ worth of knowledge on the subject.

The Meena Kumari story

However, I still say that divorce should be one’s very last option, and it should come into play if there’s complete incompatibility and a complete breakdown of the relationship. Even as I write, I am reminded of the unhappily-married film star Meena Kumari. She died on March 31, 1972, so the last weekend was her 41st death anniversary.

I’d once interviewed her stepdaughter, Kamal Amrohi’s daughter Rukhsar-e-Zehra. I quote her from that interview, from what she and her mother went through when they’d heard that Kamal sahib was re-marrying, and marrying Meena Kumari, at that. Zehra said, “No doubt he was a romantic. Much before his crush on Meena Kumari, he was involved with Madhubala. They were about to get married, but one sentence from her – ‘Kamal sahib, leave your wife and kids and I will give them four lakh rupees – finished it all.

“And my father, whom I’d called baba jaani, had told Madhubala that he does not buy or sell relationships, and severed all ties with her…Later, during the shooting of Mahal, my mother fell ill. Her already-strained nerves could take it no longer, and I recall how baba jaani told us to go to Amroha for a change. It was while we were in Amroha that magazines carried details of his wedding to Meena Kumari.

“I also remember how the children of the locality used to whisper if I was the daughter of Meena Kumari and Kamal Amrohi. But somehow, I was never upset, because the way my mother explained it all to me didn’t make it appear like he’d done anything wrong. My mother adored him and would say with immense pride, ‘Main Kamal sahib ki begum hoon.’ People wondered how she could tolerate a ‘co-wife’, but all those talks didn’t really bother her, and that was why we children never felt bitterness towards him, nor were we affected by his second marriage.

“My mother had realised that hers was an ill-matched marriage and it took place only on the grounds that the elders wanted these two cousins to marry. She had the rare nerve to calmly break the news of baba jaani’s remarriage to me. All she said was, ‘Don’t worry.  Now you will have another ammi, chhoti ammi, to look after you.’ With such an introduction, how could I be angry with either my father or Meena Kumari?”

I’d asked her about what had gone wrong with Kamal Amrohi and Meena Kumari’s marriage. She began by telling me how comfortable she was with the late actor. “When I was 13, I went to live with chhoti ammi and baba jaani and she wasn’t the stereotypical stepmother. Initially, I wasn’t very comfortable with her, but she would tell me, ‘Jo kuch chahiye mujhe batlao, jaise tum abba jaan se kehti ho (If you need anything, let me know the same way you would let your father know).’

She would leave for her shoots early after instructing the servants that I had to be looked after properly. On her return, if she wasn’t tired, we would sit and play carrom or just talk. Though her spoken English was rather poor, she had picked up a few words to speak with me. She respected my father’s sentiments of never encouraging me to join films. I grew rather fond of her as time went by. For, besides caring for me and my two brothers, (who initially stayed with her and were later sent to hostel) whenever my mother visited  Bombay, Meena would treat her with respect and would tell her, ‘Apa jaan, yeh ghar aap ka hai (Dear sister, this is your home).’

“I never saw any clash between her and my mother. On the contrary, if my mother stitched ghararas, it would always be six – two for me, two for herself and two for chhoti ammi…’

But a discord between the husband and wife did exist. Zehra told me, “The first time a major fight took place between the two was over the abortion issue. Baba had gone out, and without his knowledge, she’d decided to abort the baby. Months after that, she went in for a second abortion. There was a severe showdown this time, too. My father was very keen on having children with her, but she wasn’t keen on it. The deterioration in their relationship started with that. Then she took to the bottle and started having flings.

“As far as I can remember, she started taking brandy as a cure for insomnia, but knowing that my father disliked any sort of alcohol, she’d have it kept in Dettol bottles and sip it on the sly in the toilet. As to why she left the home, I don’t know the finer details. That day, on returning from school, I learnt from the servants that she’d left. My father went out to try and get her back (she had gone to actor Mehmood’s house), but she was determined never to return.

“My father really loved her. Several years later, when I asked him if he still loved her, he said, ‘Yes.’”

Humra Quraishi is a senior political journalist based in Gurgaon. She is the author of Kashmir: The Untold Story and co-author of Simply Khushwant.

(Pictures courtesy ndtv.com, divorcedwomenonline.com, nowrunning.com, bollyspice.com)

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Enough said

Rich past, uncertain present

Delhi hosted cultural events capturing the essence of bygone times, which only served to remind us of sharp, present-day realities.
by Humra Quraishi

Delhi recently played host to a series of exhibitions on the life and works of Amir Khusrau. Then there was a three-day seminar on Dara Shukoh, the eldest son and heir apparent of Shah Jahan. There was also an exhibition on the art of Calligraphy. Sadly, I could make it to only one of these three events.

I attended the Amir Khusrau exhibition at the National Archives. Let me just say it was splendid. It captured the genius of Amir Khusrau, his poetry, his thoughts, and his philosophy. Credit ought to be given to the Aga Khan Trust for Culture and also to the curator, Shakeel Hossein, who, I’m told, came all the way from Boston to set up the exhibition.

I couldn’t attend the three-day meet on Dara Shukoh, organised by Anjuman Taraqqi Urdu (Hind), but going by the list of speakers – Gopal Krishna Gandhi, Professor Irfan Habib and several well-known historians and critics – it must have been a wonderful, full-fledged seminar. Dara Shukoh has always fascinated me a lot; so much so that I find  my visits to the Kashmir Valley incomplete if I don’t go and visit the unique school of Sufism, Kas-I-Mah, which he had set up. Its ruins lie close to the Chashm-e-Shahi Springs in Srinagar. It is the first-of-its-kind in the whole of Asia and Central Asia, and the school, now in a dilapidated state, was built near the Chashm-e-Shahi springs at the suggestion of his spiritual teacher, Akhund Mullah Mohammad Shah, who came from Badakhshan, in Afghanistan.

The more I read on him, the more I begin to feel that if only he’d lived, he could have changed the entire complexion of this land. In fact, one of the rather fascinating books on Dara Shukoh is penned by Gopal Krishna Gandhi, Mahatma Gandhi’s grandson and former bureaucrat-turned-Governor and now full-time writer. Soon after his book, Dara Shukoh: A Play was released, I‘d asked him why he’d written a book on this bygone Mughal prince. He’d said, “It was his story which was, in fact, history. Where do you find failure trouncing success, defeat making victory counterfeit, as in the life of Shahjahan’s eldest-born?”

Meanwhile, the exhibition on the Art of Calligraphy by the Siasat Group (and set up at the Jamia Millia Islamia’s MF Hussain Art Gallery) drew large crowds. I feel that calligraphy ought to be revived in a  big way, as it is one of those art forms that hasn’t received its due recognition in the country.

But all these events that helped me delve into our rich past has only forced me to ponder over our present and the future – what can we take away from the present?

Nothing. For today, we are busy chasing even those militants who are begging forgiveness and want to give up a life of violence for a second chance. Today, we are calling every bearded person a terrorist.

This week, on World Water Day, UNICEF released these grim findings: ‘Globally, an estimated 2,000 children under the age of five die every day from diarrhoeal diseases and of these, some 1,800 deaths are linked to water, sanitation and hygiene. Almost 90 per cent of child deaths from diarrhoeal diseases are directly linked to contaminated water, lack of sanitation, or inadequate hygiene. Despite a burgeoning global population, these deaths have come down significantly over the last decade, from 1.2 million per year in 2000 to about 760,000 a year in 2011.

UNICEF child mortality data show that about half of under-five deaths occur in only five countries: India, Nigeria, Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), Pakistan and China. Two countries – India (24 per cent) and Nigeria (11 per cent) – together account for more than a third of all under-five deaths. These same countries also have significant populations without improved water and sanitation.’

The report also states that, ‘The figures for sanitation are even bleaker. Those without improved sanitation in these countries are: India 814 million; China 477 million; Nigeria 109 million; Pakistan 91 million; and DRC 50 million. Improvements in water and sanitation would greatly contribute to a reduction in child mortality in these counties.’

This is the present we are grappling with.

Humra Quraishi is a senior political journalist based in Gurgaon. She is author of Kashmir: The Untold Story and co-author of Simply Khushwant.

(Picture courtesy bbc.co.uk)

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Old love

Humra Quraishi is heartened by the idea of senior citizens wanting to give marriage a try in their ageing years.

At this point, there is very little use talking about the DMK and why it pulled out of its political arrangement with the UPA, for even as I write this, I am certain that the UPA will have grabbed or tempted another partner into its folds, may be a more compatible one.

I’d rather focus on the marriage fairs taking place in our country today, events that give our senior singletons a chance of getting a compatible mate in their autumn years. It’s a heartening development that we are no longer bypassing our middle-aged and the aged for marriage and companionship. Even better is the fact that we are beginning to realise that their emotional cravings, urges and wants are still intact and need voice.

Anyway, why should widows, widowers and divorcees, apart from ageing spinsters and bachelors be all alone? They have every right to have a partner to love and to hold. Let such fairs take place in every single city of this land. Let there be happiness in the lives of hundreds of men and women who are lonely and fending for themselves, battling with something as killing as loneliness.

People think that after a certain age, a person needs nothing more than material comforts. A man or woman can be well-equipped in terms of money and every comfort known to mankind, but money doesn’t buy you buy emotional support. Money can buy you sex, but not emotions.

I’m reminded of this line from Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s Memories Of My Melancholy Whores, “Sex is the consolation one has for not finding enough love.” What great philosophy is tucked into these words! I hope this philosophy sits well on those who organize these wedding fairs for senior citizens, and who help bring out those lonely souls from beyond the barriers that their own kith and kin impose on them, as do hackneyed traditions and outdated norms.

But just one word of advice to those wondering if they should participate in such fairs: don’t confuse these marriage fairs with cattle fairs. Go with an open mind and come away with someone you are compatible with.

Humra Quraishi is a senior political journalist based in Gurgaon. She is author of Kashmir: The Untold Story and co-author of Simply Khushwant.

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Beyond the high walls

Humra Quraishi wonders what goes on inside our jails, and why cannot believe that some prisoners may want to reform.

Delhi gangrape accused Ram Singh was found dead in Delhi’s Tihar Jail early this week. But his story does not end with his death. Whether Ram Singh was murdered or forced to kill himself is just one of several questions arising from the incident. You could have a hundred television discussions on whether woh maara gaya ya mar gaya, but that’s not the main issue.

His death highlights a larger question, and not just for those confined in this particular jail: are prisoners sexually abused by other inmates and jail staff? Are prisoners silenced to suit those ruling and overruling prime institutions in the country? Are jails reforming the accused or merely killing them slowly? Are undertrials, who form the  bulk of those  imprisoned, subjected to torture?

More importantly, do any of those apolitical watchdog groups hear the shrieks and cries of those languishing in jail?

In this same context, I want to ask why we got so excited by actor-activist Rahul Bose’s comment, that those accused who are remorseful and want to reform should be given a second chance? What was so offensive about this statement? Why do we, while getting really hyper about what somebody says, overlook the fact that we, as a collective lot, are responsible for what’s happening around us?

See, if jails and prisons in our country did actually reform and heal their inmates, then I would hold out some hope for those being confined there. But in the present day, only horror stories emerge of our jails, where hundreds and thousands of people languish as undertrials. I quote a widely-circulated report that highlights these statistics: “In Chhattisgarh, over two thousand Adivasi undertrials are currently in jail. For many, the trial has not been progressing, despite being held for over two years. In Jharkhand, the figure is even larger. Similar situations prevail in Odisha, Maharashtra and Andhra Pradesh…”

To this, let me add that probably the same, if not graver, conditions prevail in other jails, too, and not just in overcrowded jails. What makes the matter worse is that no news trickles out from behind those high walls. What we hear are stray reports of prisoner violence, and there’s no way of knowing what really happens inside.

In these circumstances, since we are confining prisoners for long spaces of time, why not give them the opportunity to truly reform? I’m sure a lot of them want to make amends and mend their ways. I feel that Rahul Bose’s statement is born of wisdom and compassion, both of which we are increasingly bypassing with other human beings, and especially with criminals.

I would go so far as to suggest that Rahul Bose write a book about his thoughts on the matter. Whatever one may so or feel about him, I have always thought that there was something very honest about him. I’ve met him just once – at a book launch in New  Delhi – but he left an impression. I’d asked him if I could interview him. To that, he’d  quipped, “We actors give interviews only when our films are being released!”

(Picture courtesy timeslive.co.za)

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Not part of the sham

Humra Quraishi refuses to say the words ‘Happy Women’s Day’ until the country’s realities undergo a change for the better.

Should I start this column with a formal greeting – Happy Women’s Day! – or should I bluntly say that I wouldn’t greet anyone this way, because I detest formalities that reek of hypocrisy? I have never believed in saying fashionable sentences for anyone’s sake.

And besides, of what use is this statement when the condition of women and children and even young men in this country is pathetic? It would be best if those manning big commissions and Government ministries went beyond speeches or elaborate tea sessions, merely to issue a statement. Instead, they should take the rounds of prison cells where women are lodged and detained, pushed to the wall. If policewallahs in Punjab can publicly thrash women on the road, I can well imagine what must go on behind closed doors!

No, I don’t want to parrot oft-repeated statements from the comfort and privacy of my home and office, being part of the multitude that participates in the Women’s Day sham. What are we doing about our country’s serious realities? And for how long are we going to pretend that those oppressed and troubled will not strike back?

Humans are made of emotions, flesh, blood and they take affirmative action. If oppressed for long, they are bound to react, as history has shown us time and time again. And in the current scenario, people are bound to react to State terror. In fact, in his enthusiasm to give speeches, Home Minister Sushil Kumar Shinde often forgets to mention that with those other ‘terrors’ he speaks about, there’s also something called State terror. And this State terror is the most lethal of all, for it has no limits. It kills innocents, it targets women and children. And it works all the time – even on Women’s Day and Children’s Day and Human Rights Day!

(Picture courtesy AP)

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Enough said

Why the Railway Budget makes no sense

Humra Quraishi describes her adventures with the Indian Railways and wonders if travel basics would ever be taken care of.

Whilst reading my daily Thought For The Day a few days ago – Blaise Pascal’s ‘ Small minds are concerned with the extraordinary, great minds with the ordinary’, I muttered aloud that this thought seems to fit rather well with Railways Minister Pawan Kumar Bansal’s rail budget.

Typically, the Rail Budget comprised big announcements of bigger trains, especially from his home town Chandigarh, complete with hackneyed tricks of modern-day technology (he was trying to sound technology savvy, I think) without paying attention to the grim fact that e-bookings and reservations are beyond the reach of most of his countrymen. But the Honourable Minister doesn’t seem bothered to look into ground realities. Nor does he seem particularly concerned about the dangers lurking for rail passengers – no, not in the form of terrorists, but rats and cockroaches and stray dogs in and around train compartments.

Mind you, I am not talking of slow passenger trains but those special ones – the Rajdhanis and Shatabdis. I really want to see what the Minister’s new wonder – Anubhuti – will be like.

I’m not much of a traveller; the last time I took the train was the Lucknow-Delhi Shatabdi and the Delhi-Ajmer Shatabdi. There were rats in the coach and the railway staff’s only solution seemed to be to play hide-and-seek with them. We tried putting our feet in a high-alert (and higher-than-ground-level) posture, but you know how it is. After a point, you forget to remain so tense, only to be reminded by another darting rodent. We remained restless for long hours. As if that wasn’t enough, several well-fed cockroaches arrived on the scene, sniffing around the food trays that nobody would bother to take away hours after we’d eaten.

Then there were dogs on the platforms. Not one or two, but several loitering around as though it was their home territory (which it probably was). I was dismayed to see how the railway platform of the capital city was stinking with the filth and the animals around.

The Honorable Railway Minister should undertake a train journey one of these days, one of those unannounced and ‘spontaneous’ ones that his ilk is so fond of taking in the presence of press photographers and news channels, so that he can see the mess in the Indian Railways for himself. It will be even better if he carries a bag or two, preferably containing valuables, and experience for himself the many thefts taking place on station platforms. During one of our journeys, one of our handbags was cut into and left bereft of the last rupee tucked within its interiors; we rushed to the police station situated at the end of New Delhi Railway station, only to hear the paunchy policewallahs tell us that it was next to impossible to retrieve the stolen stuff. Very philosophically they added, “Madam, what is gone is gone.”

Mr Bansal, it is spring…that time of the year when there’s supposed bahaar in and around your bungalow, but do try and move out from your gardens and take a stroll on the railway platforms. Just like in your Budget speech, I am certain that you will utter some more of those moving couplets you regaled us with a few days ago, but this time, you may genuinely feel what you say. If you do take such a trip, be sure to watch out, apart from the filth and the mess, for the little children, some of them battered beyond recognition and several others made to beg. Look out also for the many unscrupulous activities that take place in the Railways’ premises. But no, don’t go as a minister with those sepahis and chamchas hovering around you, but as an average Indian who travels without security convoys.

Humra Quraishi is a senior political journalist based in Gurgaon. She is the author of Kashmir: The Untold Story and co-author of Simply Khushwant. 

(Picture courtesy bryansander.com)

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