Why does a wife commit suicide?

Some 10 years ago I saved a young wife from going mad and committing suicide. With her husband’s permission, I took her away from Kerala and delivered her to her parents in Mumbai.
Instead of being thanked by her family, I was scolded for breaking up the girl’s marriage. The family was worried about what people would say. “Hum badnaam ho jayenge!” That the girl was saved from death was less important than the family’s prestige. It’s a crazy world.

The girl’s husband was a tall, handsome fellow and an aggressive big-talker. He had the attitude of a rural feudal lord and always managed to convey during conversation that he had descended from an important family in north India. The girl was attractive and intelligent. The two should have been happy and having lots of fun. Unfortunately, things went wrong. And the cause was absurd.

At their wedding ceremony the bridegroom heard someone from the bride’s side make a condescending remark about his family.

That remark stuck in his head and he took his revenge. There was no ‘Earth moved!’ on the wedding night. Or ever afterwards.
When I met the couple in Kerala, they lived with a Malayali family and were treated as family members. They’d been given a room in the house. There was a bed in the room on which slept the girl. The hubby slept on a mattress on the floor. There was no physical contact between the two.

Slowly I got to hear of the mess. The hubby did not talk to the wife even when she screamed at him. I did hear her screams one night. Sometimes her anger turned to physical violence. The hubby merely evaded her blows. He didn’t hit back, nor did he converse with her.  

The girl looked very disturbed. There was anguish in her face which she tried to cover up. She didn’t want a stranger to know about her troubles. I tried to get the story from the husband. He didn’t say much. For him it was a dead subject. I tried to do some counselling. I tried to move him by presenting a future when the girl would go mad and kill herself. He wasn’t interested. His decision was final. I told him I wanted to talk to the wife. He had no objection.

The girl was very embarrassed when I talked to her. But slowly she calmed down and told me the horror story of the marriage. Why didn’t she leave him and go back to her parents, I asked. Why did she continue to live in such messy conditions? She had no answer. She was worried about her parents’ reaction.
Finally, I asked her if she would pack up and leave with me. I would take her to her parents in Mumbai. After much thought, she agreed.

I told her husband about the wife’s decision. He was not disturbed. If she wants to go, no problem! The girl didn’t matter to him at all. She had become a burden.

The Malayali host family was also relieved. They had seen the girl’s misery and knew that she would lose her sanity soon. They had been very worried. I had come as a saviour.

So the girl packed and we caught a bus to Mumbai. I took her to her parents’ house. I had prepared a strong case in support of the girl’s action and to convince the parents that she had done the right thing. The parents were not home that day.

The next day I got a call from the girl’s uncle. He was very disturbed. We met at a restaurant. I told him the whole story. He wasn’t interested. He accused me of breaking the girl’s marriage and said I shouldn’t have done what I did.

“But she would have committed suicide,” I said.

“No, no. But blah blah…What will people say? Hum badnaam ho jayenge!....”

“She would have committed suicide.”

“But… blah blah.. blah... blah….”

“Talk to her. Find out if she wants to go back to her husband,” I said.

Again “blah … blah … blah …”

The conversation ended.

I didn’t hear from the family again, nor did I see the girl. 
Some years later I learned that the girl had married again and had taken up a job and was happy. I was happy, too.

I wonder if young married women are committing suicide in Mumbai because they have no escape from husbands and in-laws. And because there is no one with whom to share their woes, not even their parents who would be worried about what people will say.

— Dilip Raote is a senior journalist