July 15,2010, my independence day

July 15, my independence day

Rupam Singh Gupta, 15 July 2010, 10:23 AM IST

Why so much uproar over "honour killings"? It seems people have woken up to the heinous reality all of a sudden. It's been there. Be it a village in Haryana or cosmo Gurgaon, sleepy town of Bokaro in Jharkhand, or ghettoes of Toronto. It raises its ugly face wherever and whenever the patriarchs or moral police or khaps consider their "honour" being in jeopardy because of a woman. Times have changed, but the male mindset has not. These killings will continue till man thinks he has control over woman's body. Sadly, in this fight for control, there's another life — another man's life — which is slaughtered at the altar of honour by these "honourable" men.

I escaped "honour killing" 14 years ago. Coming from an orthodox Rajput landlord family having strong political clout, marrying outside caste was outrightly out of the question. I tried hard to reason out with them, but in vain. I was shut in a room for one and a half months, during which time I was even paraded before a Rajput Army captain for marriage. Ironically, one of his sisters had married a Punjabi guy. I couldn't understand why my folks were marrying me into a family who let their daughter wed a guy of her choice. They didn't realise how difficult it would be to spend the rest of my life grudging this denial. They didn't, actually.

I eloped and married the man I wanted to spend rest of my life with. Fourteen years, and it seems it all happened yesterday. It seemed just the right step. My family tried every trick in the book to dissuade me. Their only grouse — my man was from a different caste. Casteism being a deep-rooted evil in Bihar is not news. Brazen play of caste war is something people think is their birth right. So, killings in the name of caste do not elicit shock. And, killing in the name of the family's "honour" is, of course, a matter of pride.

The khaps or caste panchayats are not confined to Haryana. In my case, it's my family who tried to do me in. The entire sequence leading to my marriage runs like a film before my eyes...how on the afternoon of July 15 I literally ran in my hawai chappals to my husband's office, how with his friends' help we reached Kolkata and got married in an Arya Samaj temple opposite Presidency College, and how I filed a countercomplaint against my father and brothers for harassing my in-laws in Patna, following which they had to take back their kidnapping complaint filed against my husband and his parents. Amid all this, I can't forget the rock support of the Sisters of my alma mater, Patna Women's College, lawyer friends who after going through my case file told us to shut it and forget it, and the then resident editor of TOI, Patna, who didn't print the my story respecting my wish for privacy. For, if I were caught, it would have led to my killing. As my brother-in-law (an NY university passout now living in the US) told me later that he was instructed to give Shahabuddin, a notorious MLA with criminal records, supari for my killing. It was on our lawyer friends' advice that we remained in hiding for seven months.

Do I regret crossing the dehleej? Fourteen years and two kids later, I don't need to answer that. The only regret being that I've met my parents only once, as my entry into my parental place is banned, courtesy "my feaudal lords" (in my case they are my two brothers). My aging parents and I talk on the phone, but we are not allowed to meet. Are we living in the 21st century? Sure. Such things are the norm back home.