Confined, Constricted

Love and loneliness co-exist in spaces where desires struggle to navigate through narrow lanes, love flounders to flourish in tiny homes and heart-to-heart conversations get muted in the cacophony of everyday drudgery

- Swati Subhedar

SHASHI pauses while kneading dough when asked what is the most endearing thing her husband does for her. She first gives a puzzled look and then she giggles. This is not the kind of conversation we usually have in the morning when she comes to make breakfast and lunch.

When pushed to answer, she says: “Since I am expecting, he buys fruits and milk for me and ensures I have both.” She laughs when the second question is asked—how did you meet your husband?

She was just 14, living in a small village near Aligarh in Uttar Pradesh, when, one day, her father informed her that she would have to marry Jagdish, whom she did not know at all, the year she would turn 18. They interacted for the first time on the day of their wedding. Jagdish was a complete stranger when she moved to Delhi. Over a period of time, she accepted her new life. To support her husband, who works at a hardware shop, she started working as a cook in a few homes in a middle-class residential society in East Delhi. At 22, she is a mother to a two-year-old boy and is expecting her second child.

When asked if she loves Jagdish, 25, she says: “There is no time for love. There are too many struggles and responsibilities. Most of our conversations are about how to manage home and take care of our children. We don’t have enough money for indulgence.”

Do they have any plans for the upcoming Valentine’s Day? Shashi asks if it’s the same day when young boys and girls give each other roses, chocolates and balloons and says: “We have never celebrated on this day. We do small things for each other when we can. Like, this winter I bought a nice hoodie for him.”

After a while, Shashi remembers something and says: “Oh! There is this one thing that we do every year. We go for the Dussehra