Sthal Marathi Movie

I watched the Marathi movie Sthal. The opening shot is a dream sequence. Savita and her friends are "interviewing" a prospective groom. The older ladies are sitting around and snickering. They are all enjoying the nervousness of the boy under interrogation. The confidence and glow on Savita's face is a sight to behold.

But it is a dream. And dreams shatter and she wakes up to the reality of her being judged by an army of men around her. She is dismissed for her height or her duskiness. One uncle even says that he is sure she is dark and the proof is her elbows. She has whitened her face with makeup but her dark elbows are a giveaway. 

The pain in her eyes and the quiver in her voice are heart-breaking. I could not have lasted on that chair for a minute. But she has to sit on it year after year. Her helplessness is piercing. 

My life turned out differently and I was blessed that I did not have to go through her circumstances. But - what if I were in a situation like that?

My father was an alcoholic. We were broke. We couldn’t afford dowry nor wedding expenses. The arranged marriage would have to be done through loans. And not marriage loan or any other kind of bank loan. Because for collateral, the land we had was already mortgaged. So basically, that’s most of the things working against me.

I remember just once a talk of a boy from Pune. A proposal. Only son. It came through a family friend. I was in my second year degree at the time. That’s it. It didn’t go further. It was mentioned in passing.

As soon as I completed my graduation, I left home to do my post-graduation in Mangalore and stayed in the hostel there for 2 years. When I finished, I immediately started working as English Lecturer. I wasn’t thinking of marriage. My father had passed away while I was in my second year of college. That was also the year I fell in love with a college mate. I immediately informed my mother about it. And that was that. Marriage proposals were never sought. I was clear who I was going to marry. I don’t know if it pained my mother that I was going to marry a Malayali Christian. He was a “good boy.” I was in love. I did not let anyone decide who I should or should not love. Good or bad, it was up to me and I was prepared to face the consequences of it and I DID. Till today, I do not regret it at all. 

I was not subjected to a scrutiny to assess my eligibility for an arranged marriage. But what if I had to?

What if I had to wear a saree and present myself before the prospective groom’s family? What if I had to go through their piercing gazes? What if I could see them judging me, whispering disparaging comments, and making it clear through gestures that I wasn’t “good enough” for their laadla beta? So many what ifs.

I wasn’t an overly confident person at that age. My overthinking and my awareness of my family’s financial condition were enough to put me on the backfoot. Would I have then accepted whoever accepted me first? I clearly would not have had a choice, right? It would be a big deal if a boy and his esteemed family considered me worthy of their name. What would have happened  to me? Would I have died a little each day? Would I have dared to ask to continue my education and do my PG? Would I have dared to ask for permission to work? Would I have dared to speak? I was a people pleaser then. I would have done everything in my capacity to please anyone who crossed my path in my dear husband’s household. Would I have committed mental suicide? That wajood one speaks of – what would my wajood be? Maid, wife, bearer of children?

I have run away from situations that felt nauseating. Claustrophobia, both real and imagined, are my worst enemies. I run.

Considering the way I have turned out eventually, I think I would not have lasted in such a marriage. I would have abandoned it. I would have chosen a poor but peaceful life somewhere far way. I would have worked for a pittance for survival. But I think I would not have continued as a second class citizen in a rich household.

I keep hearing that anth mei sab achcha hota hai. It does, doesn’t it? I struggled a lot through my career choices. I struggled a lot because of the decisions I took. They were all my decisions, mine alone. No one to blame. No one to seek sympathy from. No one to expect empathy from. No support. Just me, my decisions and their consequences.

In the end, sab achcha hi hua. It is not like I have a husband who is a Shri Ram. It is not like I am so rich that I have maids hovering all over me. It is not like I have children who are modern day avatars of Shravana Kumara who adored his parents to death.

No. Not at all. But the thing that did happen is I grew through my mistakes. I learnt through all my bad choices. I loved. I grieved. I lived life fully, experiencing everything with a conscious heart, that this is all my making. And for reasons I cannot adequately explain, I feel content about it. I would not have wanted it any other way. It was and is truly MY life. And I lived it on my terms – both the good and the bad. I was free then. I am free now. Aur kya chahiye?