Chandrashnata Das – Part 2

After the marriage, we had planned to move into a flat. They suggested that I buy the furniture for our home. I made it clear, “If I’m buying the furniture and you expect anything from me, then you’ll have to get the electronic items.” But things didn’t happen that way. He didn’t contribute anything. It became difficult for me to sit idle and alone in my home. Eventually, I had to arrange everything myself.

I had bought a car when I was in job, but after the marriage, he mostly used it. When I asked how I was supposed to travel, he said, “Why don’t you take a cab?” He never took responsibility for anything. I was even the one taking care of the groceries.

A month passed after the marriage. If we went on long drives, I paid for the fuel. Every small and big expense was handled by me. On top of that, I wasn’t even working—I was exhausting my savings! “What are your contributions?” I asked. “I’m waiting for that important meeting,” he replied. It felt like I had been hearing that excuse forever.

Within the next one and a half months, I got pregnant.

I remember, when I had opened up about my medical condition, he assured me that he would arrange my treatment at his father’s hospital. He even suggested that I stop taking the medicines prescribed earlier, which were actually contraceptive pills. I agreed on one condition—that he would be careful and keep things in check while I was off medication. Looking back, I doubt this was on purpose.

In March 2022, when we travelled to Duliajan, his hometown, we were supposed to visit the hospital as planned. But every time, he came up with excuses, and the check-up never happened. It was during that time I became pregnant.

I was never against pregnancy, but I had always wanted to prepare myself physically and financially first… to enjoy my married life before becoming mentally and physically ready for motherhood. When I finally realized I was pregnant, it was much later, I was 8 weeks pregnant when I discovered—I didn’t even know initially. Was this some kind of sick plan; just to keep me trapped in the marriage?

While I was in Duliajan, I took care of every household chore. I was expected to attend to even the smallest requests. Before I became a part of their family, his father used to handle those tasks. I noticed their kitchen was unhygienic, so after the marriage, I cleaned every nook and corner.

Sometimes, guests used to stay late at his place. I cooked lunch and dinner for them. There were days when I stayed up until 3 a.m., just to make sure all the utensils were clean.

During the initial stages of my pregnancy, I was struggling with illness. Despite that, I was taking care of all the household chores. They didn’t even have a maid. They claimed they preferred to do their work themselves… but that was just talk. My ex-husband never moved an inch. He wasn’t working a job, nor was he running any business, and he didn’t help with the household work either. He had lied when he promised he would support me.

His daily routine was simple—he practiced intermittent fasting, woke up around 1 p.m., and had a special lunch, prepared by me, according to his diet and did nothing.

In the three months after our marriage, his parents would occasionally come to stay with us. His mother was undergoing some treatment. Whether we were in Guwahati or travelled to Duliajan, I was the one taking care of everything. Living with his family or not, all kinds of responsibilities fell on me, without any support. I felt like I was just a maid.

Amidst all this, one thought kept troubling me—he had convinced me to leave my job to explore business opportunities. But how was I supposed to find time for business when I was so occupied with managing the home and coping with pregnancy?

In the third month of my pregnancy, which was in May, I went to the hospital for a checkup. It was my father-in-law who accompanied me. Once the checkup was done, my ex-husband sent me back to Guwahati. My cousin accompanied me on the journey. I had hoped my husband would be there for me, accompany me back, but he chose to stay behind.

Was that some kind of manipulation? Because his parents were anyway planning to visit us in a few days. I could have simply travelled with them instead! Near our flat in Guwahati, there was ongoing construction work, and the house was constantly filled with dust. Was sending me back early his way of ensuring that I cleaned everything before their arrival? And at that time, I was pregnant! How ethical was that?

Coming from a business-class family, I had never handled household chores growing up. I was cared for by my parents and a nanny, and we always had maids for the housework. But after marriage, my life turned upside down. All the promises and assurances he made were slowly turning out to be lies.

The flat my husband and I moved into had been purchased by his father around 2009 or 2010, either shortly before or after his retirement. It was located on the outskirts of Guwahati and served as their place of stay whenever they visited the city. We were living on the fourth floor, and to make matters worse, the lift wasn’t even functional. When we moved in, there was no furniture or basic amenities. How was I supposed to manage my pregnancy all alone, living by myself in such a condition?

A few days later, his parents came to Guwahati for his mother’s checkup. I clearly remember asking his father, in my mother’s presence, “When is he coming back? When is he going to contribute?”

His father replied, “Why would he? He has no income. And why should he come back? He has no business to look after here.”

I felt completely numb and shocked.

His father added, “What’s the issue here? My son is a good person. Everyone likes him. You liked him too, didn’t you?”

I tried confronting my ex-husband, calling him multiple times. We argued a lot, but he kept denying everything. And when he couldn’t face my questions anymore, he simply started giving me the silent treatment.

He was never there for me during my pregnancy. When I was in my second trimester, my mother was suffering from a leg fracture. My brother had to accompany me for hospital visits, despite having so many responsibilities of his own. Until 2017, my father had managed our family business. But after his demise, everything fell on my brother and mother. Neither of them was as skilled as my father in running the business.

At that time, I was still working. But after my marriage, everything changed — my pregnancy, my mother’s ill health, and the family business — it all became too overwhelming. My brother had to handle everything. It felt embarrassing to take him along for my ultrasound appointments, and he was allowed inside only a couple of times. I didn’t want to burden him further, so most of the time, I drove myself to the hospital for my checkups.

I also remember very clearly — his family kept asking me about my parental properties. Before his death, my father had invested in several properties, which were later transferred to my mother. My ex-husband and his family repeatedly questioned when those properties would be transferred to my name.

I never wished for riches. Unlike the common notion that a man must earn a certain package, I simply wanted a marriage where my partner and I stood on equal footing. I was doing well in my field and was confident about myself. Even after discovering the truth about him, I was still willing to compromise — but only if there were certain ground rules. After all, the child was ours. But things never improved. It felt like his family had completely isolated us.

None of the Assamese rituals were followed — rituals that usually ensure the daughter-in-law is cared for during pregnancy. Traditionally, relatives invite her and serve her special meals until the seventh month. I never received a single call. On top of that, I wasn’t even wished on my birthday.

Finally, my baby was born.

I remember, when the baby was due, I was on the third floor of the hospital. From the nurse and my mother, I came to know that my husband’s parents and extended family were on the second floor. Were they scared? Or were they just trying to put on a show? They hadn’t followed a single ritual throughout my pregnancy — their presence felt meaningless. To make matters worse, my ex-husband had already spread rumours that I wanted an abortion. His entire family started pointing fingers at me. I was breaking inside. All I had ever wanted was some planning and emotional readiness before entering motherhood.

When I was about to deliver, I asked the nurse to inform my mother. Perhaps she didn’t hear me clearly. I was under anaesthesia, and maybe my words were unclear. Also, multiple deliveries were happening at the same time. The nurse ended up announcing it out loud — and the first person to see my baby was my ex-husband. He was the last person I wanted my baby to meet first. All I wanted in that moment was my mother.

There was some brief celebration from his side, but it didn’t last long — and the reason isn’t hard to guess.

When I was in Duliajan, his mother once told me, “Don’t worry, it’ll be a son. I saw it in my dreams.” I didn’t appreciate that. I had no preference—I would’ve been equally happy with a son or a daughter.

After the birth, my mother brought some gold ornaments, and my brother came with several gifts. In contrast, my ex-husband’s family brought nothing. To save face, his father handed me a thousand rupees. It was humiliating. I told him I didn’t need it. By then, I had already begun to dislike him. He never held his son accountable for anything, nor did he show any concern for the suffering I had endured as his daughter-in-law.

I was discharged three days after my baby was born. About a week later, while we were at home, I noticed that my ex-husband had started ignoring my niece. I gently requested that he not treat her that way. This irritated him. “Don’t keep poking me every time,” he snapped. Then he took the baby upstairs. At that time, we were staying at my family home. My mother, who was in the kitchen, was confused by what was going on. When she asked, I told her about the conversation.

Perhaps he was coming downstairs at that moment and overheard me. Suddenly, in front of my mother, he rushed toward me with his hand raised, as if he was about to slap me. “How dare you?” my mother shouted. “Get out of my house immediately. If you want a divorce, we’re ready for it.” He left but returned later that evening.

He apologized and tried to shift all the blame onto his mother. “She keeps forgetting things… she just says whatever comes to her mind,” he mumbled. He was speaking to my mother while I sat inside the room with the door closed. I was scared. I didn’t come out. Eventually, he left and sent a message saying he would return from Duliajan in 10 days.

There are ceremonies that traditionally happen after 11 days and again after one month of the baby’s birth. He was present for the one-month ceremony. On January 27, 2023, we were supposed to collect the birth certificate. My brother went to the office to pick it up, but to our shock, my ex-husband’s cousin had already collected it—without informing me. He still hasn’t returned it. Maybe he took it thinking I wouldn’t be able to travel overseas with the baby. To this day, he hasn’t come back to meet the child. And to top it off, he added his surname to the baby’s name. Bina kuch contribute kiye, haq jatane ka kya hi matlab hai. (Without contributing anything, what’s the point of claiming rights?)

Before the baby’s 7-month ceremony, there were several instances when the baby fell ill. Every time, my brother and I tried to reach out to my ex-husband, but his response was always the same: “I’m busy.” After the ceremony, when he stopped responding altogether, I finally made the decision to file for divorce. When my baby was 8 months old, I approached lawyers.

I also tried to file an FIR for matrimonial fraud. However, the police dismissed it, saying it was my responsibility to have verified everything before the marriage.

How ironic—he had the privilege of deceiving everyone, pretending to be responsible and employed, while I was left to carry all the burdens. And somehow, it became my “responsibility” to endure it all. So, I filed a separate case, clearly stating that I didn’t want any monetary relief. After everything I’ve been through, the last thing I want is to be labeled a “gold digger.”

The case is still ongoing in court, and he hasn’t attended a single hearing. Sometimes it’s his father who is unwell, sometimes his mother, then it’s him, or it’s flooding in Assam—there’s always some excuse. He has a bag full of reasons to avoid showing up in court.

At one point, I even requested his medical history, just to ensure that I was aware of any hereditary health issues that could affect my baby. But he never disclosed anything. Now, he suddenly claims to have diabetes and fatty liver.

Today, I’m still fighting—but I’m also living. I work with my brother to support my mother’s business. Alongside that, I’ve discovered a passion for interior design, art and craft, and music.
Now, I live for myself—and for my baby.