Kerala man kills brother-in-law, elopes with sister-in-law and abandons kids

It can be called a nightmare in adult hands. No enemy should do what these Kerala guys did. Having extra-marital affair is nothing new. I have even seen women/men having affairs with their own brothers/sisters-in-law. But killing and abandoning kids for the so-called love and lust?! Nah. Had the woman who eloped with her brother-in-law realised that she could also have the same fate as her husband, maybe she would have thought twice before shaming her family. I'm sure the story f the two Kerala children, published on the TNM, will break your heart:

For 45 days, six-year-old Aryan never let go of his four-year-old sister Amritha’s hand.  It was this act of love that eventually helped the Kerala police trace the two children and bring them back to the state.

In the last week of January, the two children were abandoned on a Mumbai-bound train by a relative following their mother’s death in Kannur district. They were brought back to Kerala on Sunday by a police team headed by Sub Inspector Anshad of Iritty in Kannur.

How the ordeal began
Until 2015 the children lived in Tumakuru in Karnataka with their parents. Their father Ravi was, however, allegedly killed by their uncle (mother’s younger sister’s husband) Manjunatha in 2015.

Later Manjunatha and the children’s mother Shobha eloped in Iritty and started living together with the kids. Police said that the couple had frequent fights over Manjunatha wanting to return to his wife in Tumaakuru.

Tragedy then struck on January 22 this year. During one of their fights, Manjunatha allegedly strangled Shobha, who fell unconscious. “He thought she was dead, so he threw her into a well. She was not actually dead, but she died due to drowning after being thrown into the well. Initially everyone thought it was a suicide. But police continued to investigate the case,” Iritty station house officer Sudheer told The News Minute.

Manjunatha then took the children to Bengaluru on January 29, where he abandoned them on a Mumbai-bound train. He then returned to Iritty.

During the course of the police investigation, they discovered that Manjunatha had allegedly murdered Shobha.  It was then during the questioning that he revealed that he had abandoned the children on the train to Mumbai.

The rescue
“We shared the children’s photographs with the Mumbai police and contacted them through Childline. When an officer from Ernakulam visited Mumbai recently for some other case, a Mumbai police officer informed him that the children, who resembled those in the photograph, were taken to the Child Welfare Committee. The Mumbai officer also said the children had been found on a train,” Sudheer said.

Last week, a police team from Kerala was sent to locate the siblings.

“We were not sure whether the information was correct and had no idea how to find them in a city like Mumbai. But surprisingly it was them. The elder brother never let go of his little sister’s hands. If they had gotten separated in Mumbai, it would have been a big task for the police to find them. They stayed together on the train all through the two-day journey. Later, some policemen found them in Mumbai and handed them over to CWC there,” Sub Inspector Anshad, who headed the team to Mumbai, said.

The officer said that the children were happy to return to Kerala. He said that the siblings remained silent all through their return journey. “When we asked something, they cried, but otherwise they were quiet and did not speak much,” he said.

Now the children are under the custody of Kannur Childline. Their father’s sister is reportedly willing to take care of the children.

“They have to submit some documents to take the children with them, so the documentation is getting ready. We will also make sure that the children are not abandoned again, as they will not be able to go through the trauma once again,” Sudheer said.

Sword to kill a mosquito?!

After my hubby said one of his family members is eager to crush/kill me like a fly/mosquito with his/her boots, I laughed heartily remembering a Panchatantra story, The Foolish Friend, which I used to hear in our childhood. 

The power given to wrong hands can bring disasters to the very person who has given them. In this case, my hubby had fought with me to buy a pair of boots/shoes nine years ago to that person. And now, unable to face the truth, that person is eager to crush/kill me under the same boots! 

I’m sure all of us have heard that Panchatantra story at some or the other stage in our lifetime. As another year comes to an end, it’s that time to remember the story. Hope you guys will enjoy and laugh as much as I did!   

Once upon a time there was a king who had a monkey as his pet. He kept him constantly close at hand for his amusement. Everybody knows that parrots, partridges, doves, rams, monkeys and such creatures are a king's natural companions.

It goes without saying that the monkey, fed on the various dishes that the king gave him. He grew large and was given respect by all who surrounded the king. Indeed, the king, due to his love and exceeding trust of the monkey, even gave him a sword to carry!

In the vicinity of the palace, the king had a grove artfully planted with many trees of various sorts. Early in the springtime, the king noticed how beautiful the grove was. Its blossoms exuded a magnificent fragrance, filling the whole atmosphere with love. Thus overcome by love, he entered the grove with his favorite wife. He ordered all his servants to wait for him at the entrance.

After having pleasantly strolling through and observing the grove, he grew tired and said to his monkey, "I want to sleep a little while in this arbor of flowers. Take care that nothing disturbs me!" Having said this, the king fell asleep.

Meanwhile, a mosquito flew up and lit on his head. Seeing this, the monkey thought angrily, "What is this? Am I to allow this common creature to bite the king before my very eyes?"

With that he proceeded to drive it away. However, in spite of the monkey's defense, the mosquito approached the king again and again. Finally, blinded by anger, the monkey drew his sword and struck down the mosquito with a single blow. However, the same blow also split the king's head.

The queen, who was sleeping next to the king jumped up in terror. Seeing the crime, she said, "Oh, oh, you foolish monkey! What have you done to the king who placed such trust in you?"

The monkey explained how it had happened, but thereafter he was shunned and scorned by everyone. Thus it is said, "Do not choose a fool for a friend, for the king was killed by a monkey."

And after that incident, I feel, "It is better not to give power to the wrong person, even if it's your own family member!"

My sexist brother-in-law married a 'fair-skinned' ambitious girl to make her a good wife

We met my brother-in-law Ronny and his wife Veena at Wang’s Chinese Buffet. He introduced us to the owner and us to the owner, who brought out the beers and told us they were on the house.

It was easy to see why Ronny would want to bring us here; the same reason he'd gotten a dog and lived in Orlando and went on vacations to Rio and all the rest. For the predictable lavishness of it, the attention and the ease.

“Tell that sister of yours that if she doesn’t get married real soon, she’s gonna end up in the gutter like my wife's cousin.”

Coming to Wang's where they all knew him must’ve made him feel normal, especially after he’d finished prophesying doom on everyone else. He told us how Veena’s cousin had a face like a crater and no one would want to touch her with a ten foot pole.

"She was butt ugly.” He laughed, more like guffawed. "Everyone wants to marry a pretty girl, right? Or at least someone with a face."

Ronny and Veena had met in college, when she was a young girl with a round face and long hair, exuding 'purity'. At least that’s how she looked in the black and white photograph in the album that was on their coffee table. I'd pieced it all together over the years and I’d heard Ronny speak lovingly of her that way, his prized possession.

She was extremely fair skinned, his mountain girl. "Just like white," he'd joke. I could tell he was still proud of the acquisition, though she had aged and lost her girlishness. They'd been at school together in Pondicherry and from what I'd gathered, Ronny was obsessed with a certain quality in a woman, purity of heart. That was the number one quality for him in a wife.

He was smitten by her youth and shyness and natural beauty. I also think that she was easily moulded, though she could put up a fairly good front, becoming weakly contrarian in front of others, that is, of an opinion, but then resigning to the truth of the matter, that Ronny was right after all.

I'd seen it happen many times right before my eyes. Veena was both easily persuaded and dissuaded, and that also was part of Ronny's definition.

But there were conflicting reports. Someone had said, either Ronny or Dev or maybe my mother-in-law when she was alive, said that Veena had been a real live wire back in medical school, campaigning for rural women's rights and education. But what had begun with youthful fervour had ended in failure. Ronny had put an end to her activism when he asked her to marry him.

“You didn’t have the brains for that,” he’d tell her.

Or rather, I could imagine him saying that. I have no proof, and to tell you the truth, it's all in the past. She was who she was and she was right in front of me, twittering around her kitchen, disqualified from any real debate.

Her movements were like that of a bird, tottering around, reacting to all the quibbles and taunts that came her way. And yet by the same merits of her birdlike attention span, she was forgetful enough that she never harboured any resentment, the perfect life partner for someone like him.

“You’re always saying something mean about my family,” said Veena, letting the dogs in. He told me that my sister needed to marry soon or else she’d turn out to be like Veena’s ‘loser’ cousin. I wasn't sure how to respond.

“See, she agrees with me.” He announced, he had to get ready for work and got up to go to his bedroom at the end of the long hallway, traversing the great room, past the foyer, the staircase, and his office. Veena followed after him.

“Ronny, what did you want for breakfast?”

There is something about a hard truth which cannot be denied.

Veena clung to him. And with the passing of years, she'd done so incrementally. At weddings and events and trips to places where there would be people vying for his attention, she clung to him, and never let him out of her sight. And Ronny, for his part, accepted it. And so the passage of years and their ineluctable cementing.

After Pondicherry, she turned her energies from youthful activism to that which stirred her husband: his ambition. She stood behind him at every step, though he was deaf to any counsel. He prospered, his cardiology practice blossoming from two to forty physicians, all of whom he hired as underlings and never made partner. He was comfortable with the turnover, excelling at the business end. He branched out into real estate, became the owner of several commercial properties, then into politics, contributing thousands to the DNC, and finally, into the real deal, becoming the head of his own HMO.

That evening we all stayed up and watched a Shah Rukh Khan film. We were sitting in the living room, which doubled as media room, complete with six black leather recliners and a mix of strange artwork.

“So this pimply faced cousin… she ended up losing her job, her parents died, leaving her with nothing and she became a homeless beggar begging for food. She slept on the street outside a temple, and she eventually got TB and died right there on the temple steps. All shrivelled up and emaciated. Dead. With flies… That’s what’s going to happen to your sister if she doesn’t get married soon.”

Veena decided she had it and switched the lights back on. With disappointment in her voice, she said she didn’t want to watch the movie, and left.

“Everyone gets married," he said, winding up. “What’s she going to do with her life? Live with your parents until she’s fifty?”

“I don’t know,” I said. I wondered what would happen if Ronny got a chronic disease that marked up his face so he couldn’t show it anymore in public. I turned to look at the wet bar behind him. It was crowded with liquor bottles and whiskey tumblers.

Having had enough for the day, I told him I was turning in and asked them to go ahead.

“Should I turn it back on, boss?”

“No, man,” said Dev, yawning.

“You want to know something?” Ronny called out before I was out of earshot. “Marriages are made in heaven.”

In that moment, I wanted to slap him but I didn't. If his wife is fine with how he is, it was not my place to intrude in their 'happy married life'. I did think though, if this is heaven, what'll hell look like for Veena?

(Source: AkkarBakkar)

p.s.: As a feminist, it can be very frustrating to come across such people or couples. What's more frustrating is when it's obvious that the woman in question is fine with the sexism and that fact is enough to shut you up. Every male chauvinist should read this story.   

My husband and in-laws wanted me to be the maid of the house

Nothing much has changed in the society. No matter how many Sindhus, Sanias, Dipas and Sakhshis we have, the ace for maximum middle class women in India happens to be the kitchen. Not many women realise that relationships don't come with templates. Not many husbands go out of the way for their wives. It's always and always wives and only wives who have to adjust and sacrifice. A very few dare to walk out on a man off a scenario where the prolonged misery would only be woman's. These kind of people and patterns never change, instead unreasonable demands keep rising.

Bumped into this very beautiful article written by a fellow journo Devlina Ganguly. I have gone through such nightmare and have seen many other women also experiencing such a bad fate in the name of marriage, husband and in-laws. One can not only feel sorry for women going through such a hell, but also assure them that life can be better justified without such husbands and in-laws. All they need is time. Read it for yourself to agree with me.

Love, they say, is blind. Despite warnings from friends and family members, I decided to ignore the tell-tale signs, and instead went ahead and married a man on February 24, 2011.

I had a very liberal upbringing, born in a family where there was no demarcation based on gender. Born 10 years after my parents’ marriage, I was also a spoilt brat, never having to bother about household chores. My parents forgot to train me to be the ‘ideal’ wife or the daughter-in-law, they taught me to be financially independent instead and brought me up to be a self-sufficient, self-respecting individual.

Marriage to me meant companionship, the meeting of minds and the sharing of two lives. My ex-husband was my best friend (before marriage of course) and I believed that we would be one of those contemporary couples who didn’t believe in traditional gender roles.

I was working as a senior editor for the biggest media house in India back then. My work life was very hectic. My ex-husband worked in the retail industry and I felt that he would understand the demands of my job, being from such a high-pressure industry himself.

The disillusionment started very early on after the wedding.

The first shock came when my mother-in-law asked me to put on the pallu of my saree over my head while going out, at least for a week after the wedding.

I had never been a morning person; however, I was expected to wake up, shower, and serve my father-in-law his food before he left for office. I wondered how he managed his breakfast every morning before I was married off to his son. I came from a family where my father used to make the morning tea for all three of us, him being the man of the house didn’t stop him from doing so.

We had one full-time maid apart from a part-timer. There was also another help who was summoned from time to time for thorough cleaning of the house. So it wasn’t as if my MIL would have to slog it out while her evil daughter-in-law (yours truly) would put her feet up and follow her intellectual pursuits (reading books etc. were looked down upon by my in-laws). But they needed a third full-time maid for their lives to go on smoothly, I guess.

During the World Cup final of 2011, my husband and his cousin were glued to the television set, with bottles of beer to keep them company. Whereas I, a cricket fan, was relegated to the kitchen, frying fish fingers and chicken pakoras for them.

My in-laws played a very intelligent game. They wouldn’t openly criticise me (though their disappointment in me was pretty obvious), they made their son their mouthpiece who also told me just three months into the marriage that I would have to change 360 degrees, else the marriage would end.

I was basically told that I would have to wake up early, engage actively in household work, and also win his parents’ hearts by being the bahu they wanted. Basically one, who would come back right from work and immediately change identities by becoming the maid of the house.

All of this, despite the fact that for weeks at a time, I would come back home from work at 1 am and was also suffering from thyroid, which sapped me of my energy.

When my husband's relatives from the US came visiting, I was chastised bitterly by my mother-in-law for not checking whether his uncle’s mattress was changed or not. I was expected to give him his cup of tea the minute he woke up, which was quite early in the morning (I tried for a few days after which I gave up). His aunt passed snide remarks as to how I had no time to cook apart from a few occasional fancy dishes.

The final straw came in September 2012 when on one occasion my father-in-law crossed all limits and said that he hated the ‘status’ of my family, that I would be brought to my knees once my father passed away and all my ‘snobbery’ would be washed away in misery.

I walked out that day, telling my husband that I couldn’t live in that house, and we should have our own home. He took just one day to decide that he wanted a divorce, a decision he never changed.

I initially suffered from a lot of guilt post the separation, at times blaming myself, thinking I was too inflexible, that if I had bowed a bit, changed my stance, I could have saved my marriage. But today I know what they wanted was wrong to the core. They wanted a financially independent, professionally successful daughter-in-law to show off to the world.

To the world they are ‘modern’ while in their hearts they believe that a daughter-in-law's primary responsibility is to sacrifice herself at the altar of household work and to serve them.

A ‘glorified’ maid to be precise. The divorce was a blessing in disguise.

I live my life unfettered by the chains of patriarchy that unfortunately still bind our society, something that will still take years to change.

p.s: Devlina Ganguly has over a decade's experience in the fields of journalism, media and the arts and is an experienced veteran of news commentary, analysis and discussion. She has extensively reported on a plethora of subjects for some of the nation's most widely-read and respected dailies. Currently she's independently working on a bunch of projects - her interests include world-affairs, politics and society, films and music.

Don't widows/divorcees need any pleasure?

This is one question which always has bothered people, but they have never dared to ask in public: Don’t widows/widowers, divorcees, gulf widows never need sex? This question again popped up in social media today, as Urmimala Das, a widow from Assam, shared her agony on Akkar Bakkar. The headline – “I'm A Widow And A Mother: My Fault Is I Need Sex And I'm Not Sorry” – is sufficient to know the story of the widow mother.

Before coming to the point, here’s a quick read of Ms Das’ story in her own words:

“I am a 40-year-old widow with a 20-year-old son from a small town in Assam, India. And I have sexual desires that's too much for you to digest. 

Being a motherless fourth daughter of a police officer who had cancer, my life was not easy since the very beginning. A troubled childhood taught me how horrible it is to be born as a girl in a backward, conservative family of a small town. My younger brother (who was just a year younger than me) got all the attention and love from my dad and relatives, whereas we (girls) always felt unwanted. In a way, we were used to being mistreated. For my dad, we were nothing but a curse, a burden. In spite of this negative atmosphere, there was something that made my life beautiful. The wonderful nature of my surroundings helped me dream of a better future. One day in front of a calm river in the summers and while staring at the rising sun, a 10-year-old promised herself that she would become a good mother.

I didn't know what a 'good mother' meant but I was pretty sure it was the opposite of all that my sisters and I had been through in our childhood.

 I never enjoyed my teens like my friends did. I gave up my love for painting even though I could see a bright future for myself in that field. I couldn’t fight with my dad for the things I needed to continue with my hobby, I just found it easier to give it up. He wanted to give his son a secured future with lots of money. So, he decided to save each penny for my brother. How could I ask him for a new book that I wanted to read or a box of watercolours?

My sisters and I had accepted our fates. We were the poor daughters of a rich father.

But that wasn't the end of it all, a challenging adulthood was waiting for me with open arms when I grew up. An early marriage, an alcoholic and a drug addict for a husband, a baby, and an incomplete education were enough reasons to break me mentally. But this time around I decided to not give up, no matter what. I remembered my promise to myself in front of that river. It was the start of a real struggle. I couldn’t file for a divorce as I didn’t have either money or the time. Plus I had to be the good mother to my son. I decided to live separately without getting the tag of a divorcee. I was earning my bread and butter through a job, I was studying, and was looking after my son. I couldn’t marry again as I was still 'legally married'. Finally when my irresponsible husband died, I got the tag of a widow.

I couldn't escape the infamous tag in our society one way or the other but still, it was a great relief for me. And no I don't feel ashamed feeling the way I did. 

Does it sound bad? Maybe, but I believe my long struggling life gives me the right to feel so. I am not that 18-year-old girl anymore who didn’t express her pain or her thoughts or didn’t raise her voice socially/legally against injustice once upon a time. I'm not being a hypocrite here. But begging for my rights didn't get me anywhere.

Today, I'm a widow and let me tell you how society wants me to live my life.

Society wants a divorcee or a widow to live her whole life without sex, regardless of when she lost the physical intimacy. It could've been at age of 18, it could've been at 50. But, nobody cares. I always found sex healthy and this taboo of not being able to do it suffocates me a little every day.

I may not wish to get remarried for many reasons, the biggest being my son. But does that mean I have no sexual needs or I shouldn't have any? Finding an appropriate person as a life partner AGAIN is not an easy task for a widow in the Indian society. I fail to understand why I am NOT allowed to have a healthy sexual life. 

In a situation where most people don’t want women to talk about sex and related topics, I can imagine how much hatred I might face after expressing my thoughts on my sexual desires publicly. But it is one of my basic needs. I don't deny it and I don't want to. I crave for a sexual touch every night I try hard to go to sleep

As a mother of an obedient and intelligent young son, I see myself as a smart, successful single parent. Hopefully, society accepts it too. I am smarter and better than many ‘normal’ parents who have failed miserably at parenting. But I also get tired on some days and that's when I fantasize about things I'm not 'supposed' to think about.” 

Ms Das’ Note:

When a widow is doing her duties properly, and is a socially responsible citizen, do you really need to peep into her bedroom? It is really high time for the society to change its mind set. Widows and divorced women are normal human beings too. Live and let live.

Divorcees and widow/ers: Most of the time it is this sexual drive which makes divorcee men seek young girls as brides. Even when they are in their 40s/50s, they seek girls who are in their 20s/30s! Moreover, our society is such that men have several options, including visiting prostitutes, to fulfill their sexual urges. 

From all the corners it is the women who bear the brunt. Whether the woman is in her teens or in her 50s, she has to suppress her desires, as it is no less than a sin to even express it in front of others. 

Married spinsters: We had a teacher who was a Gulf widow and she had extra-marital affair. When others learnt about it, she divorced her husband and married her lover boy.  

I still remember one of my friends telling me a decade ago that how her mother-in-law had once told her that she was unable to control her sexual desire and kept visiting her husband, who was posted in north India, as much as possible. My friend had mocked that it was this desire which led her in-laws to have a child when the elder son (my friend’s hubby) was 18-year-old! Though we laughed and left that topic there itself, today I wonder what she herself is going through after her husband dumped her for another woman!

Besides, I have seen some Gulf widows, who lead a life of married spinsters, having extra marital affairs. This is not unusual or a new thing. The point to note here is though most of the times, extra-marital relationships are attributed to the women it is the other way round. Most of the times men, usually within the family, exploit the situation and put the blame on women. 

Unfortunately, the ubiquitous driver who has access to the house is sometimes associated with such relationships, besides the father-in-law and/or brothers-in-law.

Loneliness and sexual urge also drive these women into extra-marital relationships.  

It is unfortunate that women can’t even express their desires like men, let alone fulfill them. When will our society change its mindset? When will we all start thinking and treating women, especially divorcees and widows as normal human beings?