Helping Hand


A survivor’s story

I was in America less than three years and was filling up the pages in my diary with my secret tortured life. At the age thirty-five, I left my own business in India and came here to join this new family with many dreams. But in this house I was treated as a slave. I was expected to serve my husband, mother-in-law and teenager stepson with the

preset rules of when, where, how and which way.  I kept on doing all that happily, from 5am to 10pm, with the longing that my husband shows some care for me. I was called stupid because my English was not good and I was humble. I was not allowed to know any thing about household finances or his income. I was giving him all my earnings and in return I was given a small allowance.  The verbal abuse was constant from husband and mother-in-law. My diary was soaked with my lonely tears.
All the people I knew were my husband’s friends and relatives. Whom can I tell and who will believe me?  I cannot write to my family in India because, my in-laws were extremely sensitive about their reputation in society. My husband moved out of our bedroom and told lies to his mother and to the casual, so called, friends. My Ex and his mother started telling me to “pack your bag and get lost”.  They wanted me to leave penniless and humiliated so they can look good in the society. He threatened me with legal consequences.
Finally, I mustered up my courage and talked to one of his friends, who is a Domestic Violence Volunteer. First, I told her very little and waited for her reaction. After a few days I felt that I could trust her. Once I had her support, my self-confidence and strength slowly came back. I had to relearn to be strong. My advocate was my lifesaver. I no longer felt helpless. The Organization helped me with the lawyer’s fees and my advocate spent countless hours with me and accompanied me to get through the legal and emotional web. I moved out of that house with good settlement, with good friends and with dignity. I cannot imagine where I would have been without their help. My mentor Saryu expressed my feelings in her poem.
A Survivor

Painting By: Dilip Parikh

Helping Hand

sis, I accepted strangers as my own,
my heart was full of hopes and dreams,
I came trusting the thread of love,
I enjoyed the bliss of marriage.

He was center of my universe,

He was staying in my inner most verse,
He was the purpose of my being by,
Now miserable cry in my sigh.

That tender string broke in the midst,
Couldn’t mend it with trials or trysts,
He cut it with a jerk, left me hanging helpless,
Now all alone, how to fill this emptiness!

Let the tears flow today due to the hurt,
But my soul lamp will shine inner trust,
Promise, I will find my lost self respect,
With the help of your sweet smile, o’sis!
With the help of your sweet smile.


When you work you are a flute through whose heart the whispering of the hours turns to music.
….And what is to work with love? It is to weave the cloth threads drawn from your heart, even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth………              __Khalil Gibran, The Prophet.


1 ટીકા (+add yours?)

  1. CL Bedi
    જૂન 26, 2010 @ 07:32:08

    Such ‘Helping Hands’, are Divine Hands
    Society needs very many such Hands


    જવાબ આપો

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