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Cheated in love but life's battle goes on JIRIBAM: They say love can be cruel. If this is so, nobody will understand it better than this soft spoken and unassuming 44-year-old-lady who in her youth was slighted badly by love's flame, having been betrayed, humiliated and discarded by her lover. She survived all that and today she continues the battle of life undeterred, although it has been a lonely and uphill struggle. This reporter, who was part of a media team that visited the villages on the Vungai range during a free medical camp organized by a Jiribam-based NGO, met her and her son, a standard 1 student, in one of the villages. We were struck by her rustic innocence. Like all other villagers in this neglected hill range, she too was happy that the medical camp came to her village. "Its nice to see people from Imphal visiting. It softens our feeling of being marooned." She echoed the general sentiment of the impoverished village folks here. When we got a little familiar with one another, and as we were sipping tea together, she stunned us, or rather confused us with a question: "Do you know Kulla?" We were careful not to sound like we were mocking her. "Iteima, (sister-in-law) what is Kulla's surname, where does he live, what does he do?" We asked her. "He is from Imphal but I do not know his surname." She said, not helping clear the confusion in our minds one bit. She sensed our confusion and in an effort to help said " He is an MR (Manipur Rifles) personnel and is the father of my son." All at once, the picture emerged distinctly. It is the familiar story of the innocent village girl being taken for a ride by city smart Meitei government employees from Imphal. The revelation stunned us, inspite of the predictability of the story. As the shock subsided, in its place arose anger and outrage in us. This is particularly so because of the innocent sincerity of the woman. She was no tramp. This is her story: In 1987-88, her village Angkasuo had a post of the 5th Manipur Rifles. Kulla was one amongst the personnel posted here. She fell in love with him. Or perhaps she was being modest to a memory. Perhaps he used his guiles to seduce her. And so despite vehement objections from her three brothers, one of whom is no more, she decided to stand by him and be his wife. We married as per our tradition after he paid up a bride price for me to my brothers, she said. "I don't remember how much. But it was just to keep the tradition. It could not have been much more than Rs 10 or so," she said. Thing went well till the time he was posted out to Jiribam and in quick succession to Tamenglong. I was 6-7 months pregnant then. When I received no communication from him for a long time, I went to meet him first at Jiribam and then at Tamenglong. He had suddenly turned cold. I could not believe it. I also desperately tried not to believe what I was sensing at that moment was true. But my world began crumbling before my very eyes. "He would not even allow me to come and stay with him and instead put me up at hotels." she said choking and tears swelling in her eyes. Kulla's guilt rubbed on us, all of us being from Imphal. We were embarrassed and furious. We enquired more about the 5th MR post at the village so that we may try and trace Kulla, but she had no more information to give us. A village authority however knew more and gave us the information we were looking for. "The post commander was someone by the name of Jamandar Kungam Anal." he said. An advocate amongst our team volunteered to help nail Kulla and make him pay suitable alimony, but she refused the offer. "I don't want anything from him." she said in a resolute voice. "How can we help you then?" We asked her. When my son comes of age and begins enquiring about his father, I want to know what answer to give him. I don't want to see him, but I want to know where he lives, she said. "I truly loved him. Perhaps God will one day at least unite him with his son." she said. Again we could sense the lump rising in her throat and the film of tear covering her eyes. "How do you make a living?" one amongst us asked. We are three in the family. My 80 year old mother, my son, Lalrowusang, and me. I work in the paddy fields and manage to bring in about 75 tins of paddy a year. Then I do odd labor at the bamboo felling sites, she said. Silence followed. It was also time to leave. I suddenly remembered that I did not even know her name. "Iteima, what do they call you?" I enquired. "Tonhniang." she said. "Kulla could not pronounce it so he used to call me Tonheng." she laughed. But there was no joy in the laughter. (Courtesy: The Imphal Free Press) Back to Top FrontPage Manipur Profiles Features Potpourri Opinions Editorials Books Photos Links Archives Contact Policy/Disclaimer |
