The doorbell rang this afternoon- an odd time for it to ring. I was not expecting guests. I opened to find Nazma standing outside.

"You never call me these days!" She complained, smiling.

"Come in come in Nazma, "I welcomed her. She looked exhausted. Both of us ate whatever was there as lunch and caught up.

Happy to see Nazma had not forgotten me, I welcomed the intrusion. It must be a good 30 years since I know this woman. I was in my earlier flat on Carter Roadat the time. Above me lived Dr.Lagu and his wife Deepa who was my college mate at Elphinston. Deepa brought in a pretty young woman, introducing her as a malishwali, adding:

"She needs work Rinki. Do what you can."

I liked the quiet woman at once. Nazma was her name, and slowly she became a part of our household, part of my life. She would do massage to feed her family.
”What about your husband, Nazma? What does he do?" I asked once when she was comfortable speaking about family matters.

”Oh he does no work. Sells cinema tickets at Gaiety, in black. The money is enough for his drinks and goli." she answered in a matter-of-fact voice..

I knew too many similar stories to be surprised.

Things went on. I introduced Nazma to friends,to family. She would charge Rs.30 per malish. I told her she could raise it -as that was all she earned.

The next time she came, Nazma was covered in with blue marks all over her arms. One eye was black. I was not surprised nor did I ask what happened.
"He beats you .." I remarked coldly, angry.

Nazma lowered her head in shame, and embarrassment.

"Why are you ashamed Nazma?" I asked her.

“Your husband should be ashamed. He can be picked up by the Police for beating you! It is a crime, you understand" I blurted, very angry by then She stared at me.

"I can give you a letter to the local cops Nazma, only if you want to press charges. But remember, the police will throw your husband in jail for a night." I had said warning her aboutthe section A of 395 IPC.

"Can you do this memsaab?" She asked in disbelief, “I am fed up being beaten daily."

"Sure I can Nazma. But are you sure?"

"Jee. I am sure. What can be worse than being accused every night and beaten in front of my kids?"

I had written a note to the Inspector on Duty at Bandra at that very moment, before Nazma changed her mind. Women often regret taking an extreme step. Nazma left for the daywith my note.

For several days she did not show up.

I wondered. Did she finally press charges? I need not have worried.

Nazma appeared, soonenough. She looked relaxed; and before I could complain at her absence or ask anything, she flopped down on the floor and grinned'

" Maine police to aapka chithi dikhaya, aur usi deen woh log jeep mein aakar
mera marad to le gaya..."

I looked her in disbelief and admiration.

" Aur phir?"

" Aur us din se, mera marad ek dum chup. Gharme police aye to uska izzat agay na memsaab? "I agreed silently.

"Ab woh seedha ho gaya..."

That was three decades back at least. Her husband has never raised his hand on her. Nazma is the main bread winner. She raise her four daughters, and her son, got each one married on her own income with little help from some of us. She recalled her older daughter home after hearing she was being abused.

"Why should my daughter get beaten? I called her to stay with me. She had left one of her kids with the in laws. One came with her.The in-laws had to eat humble pie. Today my oldest granddaughter has become an air hostess. I paid for their education."

Uneducated herself, it is amazing that Nazma values education above all else.I have met many women who rightly believe that education comes in handy when life strikes you a blow. With the income from her work, she is paying for the education of her granddaughters. And she is full of regret that one grandson refuses to learn. In a culture where daughters are viewed as parayadhan, when is daughter is discouraged from returning back to her natal home, left to die for dowry or for simply belonging to the wrong gender, Nazma's example makes me very proud indeed. I want to share her example with you readers.With those others who ought to perhaps wake up and act.