Better days: Three women reclaim life after domestic abuse, showing others it’s possible
This Domestic Violence Awareness month, three survivors tell SocialStory how they broke through cultural and financial barriers, and found the strength to escape abuse with help from NGOs and allies.
Trigger warning: This story talks about domestic violence. Please call 181 (National Commission for Women helpline), +91-11-23389680 (All-India Women's Conference), 1800 102 7282 (PCVC), or +91-11-24373736 (Shakti Shalini) if you or anyone you know is surviving domestic abuse.
Maragatham*, 36, Pudukkottai
I was raised with two younger brothers in a poor family in the Pudukkottai district of Tamil Nadu. Both of them had very different and far easier childhoods than I did.
I was made to discontinue school after Class 5 and given into marriage to my uncle (my mother’s brother) when I was just 16 years old. He was 34 then. As per the custom in our community, it is common for young girls to get married to their mother’s brother or thai maman (in Tamil). These are promises or bonds that families make with each other when their children are still young.
But having no emotional maturity, or education to understand what was happening, I became extremely scared at the sight of my husband. I could not bring myself to have a physical relationship with him.
That is when the violence started.
When I didn’t welcome his advances, he beat me mercilessly. Somedays, he beat me in front of the entire family and became extremely suspicious when I stepped out even to go to the market. He was suspicious of me even when I rode on the bike with him, and often got back home and trashed me because he assumed I was looking at other men, or that they were looking at me.
Any attempts to tell my family about the torment I endured at my in-laws’ place went unheeded as my parents always took the side of my husband and his family. The fact that they were well-off made my case harder. My family felt indebted to them for taking me into their family and providing for us.
Having no understanding or the instincts to survive the outside world, I reached a point in my marriage when I could not take the daily violence anymore and tried to escape with my daughter—born deaf and dumb. Each time I tried to flee, they would have family members and people in the neighbourhood track me down, and bring me home only to assault me again. All this made me a nervous, immobile wreck. I couldn’t move for days, and yet, it was only a while before I would start planning my next escape.
One such time, I planned ahead and started hiding important documents one by one—my child’s birth and disability certificates, my marriage certificate, and my Aadhar Card—in the backyard. Finally, when I decided to leave, I told my in-laws I was dropping my child to school and took a bus to Chennai from Pudukkottai.
I reached by evening and sat with the infant at a major bus depot for a few hours. We hadn’t had a proper meal all day. I then went to the Maduravoyal police station, where they heard my story and took me and my child to The International Foundation for Crime Prevention and Victim Care (PCVC), an NGO in Chennai.
It has been four years since that night and I have learnt how to live as an individual in a new city, make a livelihood as a nurse, and care for myself and my expenses.
Even after coming here, my husband sent people to track me down, followed me when I was going out, and managed to take my daughter away about eight months ago. I worry about her a lot and miss her.
But I try to use all the help that PCVC is giving me to live with dignity and choice. I save up diligently every month for myself and my children. When I do finally meet them, I want to have enough to provide for them or fund their education and other needs.
If you are a woman stuck in a violent household, know that there are support systems out there that can help you. Don’t resign to your fate. Keep trying to do what you can to secure yourself and leave. In my experience, NGOs working exclusively in the space of domestic violence have the resources needed to get you out and back on your feet. Educate yourself, take each day at a time and never give up hope.
You deserve to live well.
Kalai Arasi, 32, Chennai
It is only after years of violence, betrayal and an attempt at ending my own life that I have learnt what true independence really is.
I was married months after my father died in 2008, to a man 11 years older than me. I was 15 and he was 26. My mother decided she could not support me anymore due to the financial strain that my father’s passing had left on us and emotionally manipulated me into getting married. I was awaiting my Class 10 results then.
I went to live with my husband, a construction labourer, in Mayiladuthurai in Tamil Nadu. From the day we got married, he began abusing alcohol. He came home drunk every day and verbally abused me, using expletives I didn’t even understand.
Soon, the violence became physical. He beat me up badly every time he was inebriated and openly had multiple affairs with women in the neighbourhood.
At 16, two months after I just had my son, our neighbours began telling me about all the women my husband was involved with. When I raised it with him, he beat me up so badly that the stitches I had after my C-Section came off and I had to be rushed to the hospital.
After this incident, my husband started getting women into the house, drinking and spending day and night with them. Unable to withstand this, l tried to immolate myself, but once again, our neighbours saved me in time by taking me to the hospital.
I came back home after two months of treatment but my husband’s behaviour had not changed a bit. In fact, it had only gotten worse. One day, in a fit of rage, he picked up our newborn son and threatened to bludgeon him to death.
That was when I decided to flee and came to Chennai with my baby. With third-degree burns on my face, I faced extreme discrimination here. People wouldn’t give me jobs, avoided sitting next to me on the bus, or rent out their homes to me.
I bought a bicycle for Rs 500 and started delivering water cans to homes. I also started doing all odd jobs that came my way—selling fish and vegetables, doing domestic work and so on.
My friend then referred me to PCVC, which helped me get surgery for my burns and a job at a popular restaurant in the city. I went on to work at many restaurants and bakeries where, too, I was mocked at and humiliated for my scars. But I grit my teeth, spoke to no one, focused on learning the ropes of my job and worked hard. Of course, this took a mental toll on me but the staff at PCVC helped me cope.
Today, I work as a head chef at a restaurant here in Chennai. My work, recipes and understanding of desserts is valued here and I get paid well. Now, my mother has seen what I’m capable of and helps me raise my son.
In most cases of long-term domestic violence, women don’t have the support of their families. But they must know that they have a community outside that can be like family to them. Identify your strengths, equip yourself to become financially independent, and don’t hesitate to ask for help—no matter how many times.
Rani*, 28, Chennai
The thing with a violent partner is that you don’t ever see it coming, more so if you aren’t familiar with them before marriage.
I was married off when I was 18 years old. Having grown up in a family ridden with conflict and neglect, I looked at marriage as a ticket to freedom. I thought I could study higher, create a life on my terms, save money and live freely. My husband’s house, however, turned out to be a bigger prison than my biological home.
Before marriage, I knew my husband as an introverted man who spoke softly. After we got married, I saw that he drank a lot. Slowly, he started by establishing control—over what I did and how; what I wore, how I walked, talked, behaved, and even rested.
My phone was taken away from me and I was given no money. He started fights over trivial things. I would be beaten black and blue because his shirt got stained in the washing machine, or for not answering the door on the first bell.
Then the beatings became frequent. If he had had a bad day, I was his punching bag. If his mother fought with him in front of me, I was certain to get a trashing that night. I almost lost my eyesight in one eye and was unable to lift my arm.
I have realised how much a supportive biological family—or the lack of it—makes a difference to domestic violence survivors. My mother repeatedly invalidated my struggles, asking me to go back to him. She told me that was my home now and I must live the rest of my life there. Not once has she believed in what I said or stepped up to help me.
This broke my spirit every day.
My husband got me pregnant year after year. He told me that was his way of keeping me focused on the ‘household’ and keeping stray thoughts at bay. After giving birth to two children, I underwent two abortions in a year.
Physical violence was always followed by emotional manipulation and control. My husband wouldn’t allow me to visit my mother who lived two streets away, or travel alone anywhere. He would insult me for taking the bus as it was filled with unknown men. He reared 10 goats, 30 hens and three dogs, whom I had to cook and take care of along with three young children. When I asked him why he was putting all this burden on me, he would say it would keep me from developing a sense of self.
If he ever beat me up too much and I needed to be checked, I would be prohibited from speaking at the hospital. My husband would tell the doctor that I had fallen and injured myself.
When women who look like they could have potentially suffered abuse at home go to hospitals, I wish doctors were sensitised and trained to find time with them alone and allow them to confide. I wish the same with the police. Instead of trying to negotiate a truce with the woman and the violator or their family, I hope the police understand the gravity and sensitivity of the situation and step in to help the woman when she can't defend herself.
Today, at just 28, I have three children and a life ahead that seems vast and frightening. I have managed to get out of my husband’s place and am staying at PCVC's shelter. I am studying to write my Tamil Nadu Public Service Commission exam next year, while also looking for a job to support my children.
I know my mental and emotional health are fractured but I have no time to stop and think. Being a graduate in Computer Science, I hope I can find a good job that supports me and my children.
I must think about them, before I can think about myself and my life.
(*Names have been changed to protect identities)
Edited by Kanishk Singh
