dailyO
Life/Style

AIIMS doctor suicide: On being married to a gay man

Advertisement
Sreemoyee Piu Kundu
Sreemoyee Piu KunduApr 22, 2015 | 13:49

AIIMS doctor suicide: On being married to a gay man

Five years ago, Ria Bose was just another 30-year-old woman on the threshold of matrimony. Her groom, a well-educated, articulate, well-travelled, MBA, was based in Boston, and earning a huge salary. The couple had spoken a few of times over the phone after the match was brought to the girl's side by a family friend, who vouched for the "genuineness" of the Dutta family, their Bengali values and their cosmopolitan background. Also, the groom-to-be, Anik, was an only child. The question of Ria inheriting a fortune was imminent.

Advertisement

So, on a balmy spring evening, the two parents sat across each other, with Ria looking on, having applied for a half day at the tech firm she worked for, blushing nervously, sipping on a Pepsi, in a brand new dhakai her mother had selected. Ria had insisted on not wearing a sari, knowing the exact message it would hand out to the prospective in-laws. But her father convinced her saying that marriage is a lot more than a sari. After some bickering, Ria said "yes". Both to the garment and to the boy.

Truth be told she had liked talking to Anik. He would be flying down for Durga Puja, in October, that same year, and if all went well, they would tie the knot on December 14, an auspicious day.

"We went out on a couple of dates, but he seemed a tad withdrawn. It was odd considering we had hit it off on phone and mail. We had got engaged the weekend before at a grand party hosted at Bengal Club (one of Kolkata's posh social addresses). I tried kissing him in the car once, when I was on the way to the airport to see him off and our families were in another car. We had stopped at a traffic signal, and I was driving. Anik moved away, stiffened. I asked him if he was happy with this alliance since I too had inhibitions about arranged marriages. He said he was stressed about taking up a new job and responsibilities after the marriage, and whether I would get used to living in the US... "It's very lonely and I keep late hours, so you need to have a life of your own. Get a job. Or another degree. Just don't wait for me to come home,'' Ria recalled Anik as saying.

Advertisement

Ria was a Manglik. Anik was not. Her parents were insistent on the alliance even when she told them how she felt, telling her it wasn't easy to find a "good boy from a good background". How all her relatives had validated their choice, and how they hadn't asked for her horoscope, not even once.

Her own friends were divided about him. Some had called him "cute, reserved". Others said he was "a tight-ass/boring". A male colleague joked, when she handed her resignation, "Hey, sure he's not a gay?", and Ria made a face. The colleague had made several passes at her. Perhaps he was plain jealous.

She wanted to look her best on her wedding day, now just a month away. She sent pictures of herself to Anik, hoping he'd do the same.

The day after my wedding

Everything changed the minute we were alone, at his home in Boston. The very day we landed, he disappeared for the entire night, returning at dawn. I was upset, homesick. There was no food in the fridge. I asked him how and why he'd just left me, saying he'd be back in an hour. And why his cell was switched off. He said he had a critical client call, and that his mobile had discharged. Anik had said he'd make it up, cooking dinner for us. It made me happy. While showering, I noticed condoms in his toilet cabinet. I was excited. Anik was no homosexual. He was prepared. I looked forward to my new life… our new home… the gorgeous four-poster bed…

Advertisement

We never had sex. The times I tried initiating it, he used to cite reasons like a long day at work, or suggest we watch porn and masturbate. It was always BDSM or gay porn stuff. I did as I was told. Suppressing my urges, not knowing how to divulge these details… Besides I was afraid I would let my parents down if the wedding went south.

As the months passed, we grew more apart. Anik would get violent when I asked him about his long absences, often locking up the front door and threatening to hit me if I nagged him anymore. I would cry, and then pick up the pieces, cook us a nice meal, decorate the house, arrange his things. Not knowing I was slowly becoming a shadow of myself.

One night, I was invited to a fellow Bengali neighbour's son's birthday at a mall. Anik dropped me saying he'd pick me up in a couple of hours. I agreed. But when he didn't come, and almost everyone had left, I took the train and reached home. I had made a duplicate of the house key for myself, never having told Anik. I tiptoed upstairs. The TV was on. Anik was home.

There, to my absolute horror, I found my husband naked, going down on another man. The young boy who came to mow our lawn, once a week. He was Bangaldeshi. I screamed. Running back down the stairs… running for as long as I could.

It wasn't easy for me to come back from the US this way.

My parents didn't believe my version of the truth. His parents blamed mine, saying I was lascivious. They also brought up that I was a Manglik. In the US, I initially stayed with relatives, but I had no income of my own to keep going, and was made to feel like a burden after a while. Anik would keep turning up to fetch me, apologising, crying in front of my relatives. Once we were back, he would hit me, using his belt sometimes. He once even brought in two men saying I was an oversexed whore. I had to lock myself in the bathroom in fear. Finally, after about a year and a half, I managed an air ticket back home. Bruised and battered.

Anik's family, meanwhile, threatened mine, even sending goons to my father's office. All over Kolkata, there were rumours that I was having an illicit affair and that my mental condition wasn't stable. Getting a divorce was hell. I had no witnesses. No secret cameras that had videotaped his sexual escapades, no proof of his philandering. My biggest ally was my body. My eyes. Everyone I knew pretended to understand, but always probed, "Couldn't you tell he was gay?" or "Why did you take it for so long?" I have never been more alone.

And, I loved Anik, somewhere. Or, maybe, that is the reality of a marriage… of a woman's heart. My parents still say we should have tried for a child… that would have "cured" him. They always use the word "cure". Now, they are keen on getting me married again. What is my cure?

Whose fault is it really?

We live in a country where marriage is seen as the be all and end all of a woman's life, where horoscopes are made and matched, with families investing their hard earned money in matrimonial websites and marriage fixers - their daughters bedecked in the finest silk and most ornate jewels - and wedding feasts indicate social prestige and family wealth. Where dowry demands are still a reality, as is child marriage, and marital rape.

In such a milieu, was Priya Vedi, a victim of harassment by her gay husband or of our society at large, which creates these monsters in the first place? Denying their sons the right to an alternate sexual orientation, suppressing the truth about them   of the traits and behaviour patterns they may have long witnessed, and lying to get them "settled", at any cost.

Priya Vedi, an AIIMS senior resident was found lying in a pool of blood, with her wrist slit, at a hotel in Paharganj in central Delhi this Sunday. The police discovered a detailed suicide note, in which the 31-year-old claimed that she had discovered her husband, Kamal, was gay soon after their wedding and "accepted it", but was forced to kill herself because she was tortured.

"I just wanted to be with you, accepting you and your sexual orientation because I loved you very much but you never knew importance of this. You are a criminal Dr Kamal Vedi of my life," her last post on Facebook read.

What made Priya Vedi stay then? The perennial, time-tested Sita syndrome? The lofty ideal that women must stay loyal to their spouses till their dying day, as taught by our sisters, aunts and mothers? Films? Popular culture? Soaps on prime time television that never seem to address the issue of a gay husband, only a philandering one? The one for whom you still must pray. Be penitent for his sins of the flesh. Knowing the end. He comes home. He has sex with you, once, maybe. You have a son.

As a woman, I can't help but wonder if suicide was Priya's best solution? If she had ever tried to win, on her own terms? May be by starting with an online support group for spouses trying to end their marriages, or finding a lifeline other than her daily compromises with her husband, who naturally couldn't change - approaching trained counselors, not parents, locate a virtual support base that came sans the embarrassing question and answer session. A reason to shatter her own silence and empower her to come out of the closet. Perhaps, seek advice about her legal options for divorcing her gay spouse, next?

Would Priya have survived the brutality of our cultural ethos? A brave, new face of a changing sexual ecosystem that demands equality, even in bed. A right to pleasure, an integral part of marriage. A culture that sees women as more than a validation for a man's masculine abilities, her child-bearing prowess today being as significant as her working status. A case in point is the Banglore doctor who slapped Section 377 on her techie spouse after she caught his alleged homosexual encounters on hidden cameras installed at their Malleswaram home, not having had any contact after six months of marriage. The two had even slept in separate rooms.

"It was the pink lip gloss that first roused my suspicions. He used it every day without fail, and if it smudged even a little, he would touch it up immediately. His mannerisms and interests were also feminine, and whenever I questioned him, he always gave dodgy responses," the woman had said in a statement.

"For a long time, I blamed myself. I looked at myself naked in the mirror and said why doesn't he feel attracted to me? Am I a homo wife? His homosexuality somewhere took away parts of my own womanhood. I know I am more… I have my own identity… but my husband made me feel less," sums up Ria, who recently created a new profile on secondshaadi.com.

Last updated: April 22, 2015 | 13:49
IN THIS STORY
Please log in
I agree with DailyO's privacy policy