Then, with great difficulty, some people from the community came to the house as well. My father-in-law didn't leave any chance to disrespect me. He said every wrong thing he could, so that by putting dirty accusations on me, they wouldn't give me anything. He said that he is bearing all the expenses, "Inspector sir, this lady is very bad; she will sell everything and run away to Haryana." He said many more terrible things; there wasn't a single abusive word left unsaid. And in front of the whole village, my own father-in-law tried hard to prove me wrong. And there I was, begging in front of everyone for the future of myself and my children. It was then, for the first time, I felt, why am I a woman? Is being a woman a crime?
My parents placed me in such a household, yet I was helpless then, and today, as a daughter-in-law, I am still helpless. If I were a son, I would have happily received my share because I am a daughter-in-law; there is no share for me. So then my husband received the share; people said that the daughter-in-law doesn't get a share, the son does. So I convinced my husband because my husband is mentally ill; he would say that if he stays with his parents, he won't get any settlement. Then I explained to my husband and told him that you just have to say a little bit, nothing more. Whatever comes from the farming, I will give it all to you; just say that yes, you want it because my family knew that Guddu wouldn't say anything.
But after explaining everything to him, I prompted him to speak, and once, when asked in front of everyone, "Guddu, do you want to separate?" by God's grace, he said yes. He just had to say yes. After he said it, everyone was shocked. Then the inspector said, "Since your son also wants it, don't delay; give them their share. Otherwise, there's no one worse than us." Then I received 2 bighas of land, and the rest belongs to my father-in-law and brother-in-law, and there's some joint land from which we get rice to eat. I only get 50 kilograms of rice from it. How much is actually produced, I don't get any account of it. Still, I agreed, thinking I'll manage by working; at least I got something where before I was getting nothing.
But when I had asked for the land, it was July, and as soon as I got the land, my food and everything stopped. There wasn't even a glass of water for me there, and when I went home, I wasn't allowed to touch the gas stove, nor could I touch anything else. Then my father-in-law and mother-in-law would say that all this belongs to Bablu; you've taken your land and separated, now there's nothing for you here. Then a mountain of sorrow fell upon me—how would I manage, what should I do, with four people to feed? So I would just buy a quarter kilogram of milk at night, make rotis, and the four of us would somehow eat two rotis each with that milk.
And during the day, I would make cheela (a type of pancake) and give the same to the children for their lunchbox, and throughout the day, this continued—cheela during the day and milk and roti at night. In a quarter kilogram of milk, we would add a quarter kilogram of water and just sweeten it a bit, and sometimes make sweet rotis for the children. My elder daughter didn't like sweet things at all, but I would tell her, "Dear, it's just a matter of a few days; I will fix everything." Slowly, days passed by, and I carried out the farming, for which I had taken 10,000 rupees—4,000 from my sister and 6,000 from my brother. With just that amount, I did the farming. My sister said, "Moni, don't do farming; you don't know anything about it—how will you manage?"
I replied, "God will help," and I stayed in my village and did the farming. There was someone next to me from whom I would ask and learn how much to use where. And the farming was done, and the harvest was very good—better than it should have been.
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