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Geeta Tandon |
Geeta Tandon is India's first stuntswoman, and has many accolades to her name. But behind her smiling face is a story of great struggle and bravery. Read on to know about the fiery and inspiring woman.
I was married off when I was fifteen. Since my mother had
passed away when I was just ten, and my father was left devastated with four
kids to look after, there were a lot of challenges. People began to tell my
father that since we girls had grown up, it was time to get us married. For me,
marriage seemed like shot at a possible change in my life, for the better. I
thought that I would get to own things, get to cook my own food and have enough
to eat. I didn’t think that I would have to worry about my in-laws, because I
was struggling at home anyway, so might as well struggle there, with them. My
father found a well-to-do family, whose youngest son was considered a match for
me.
The people who match-made said that there was a boy with a
house and came from a well-to-do family, and that I should marry him. I was
married off in two days of that conversation. I was only fifteen years old, and
I did not know anything about sex. I was also scared of it because I simply
didn’t know what it was. Even though I grew up without a mother, I was capable
of knowing what was right and what was wrong.
My husband began to misbehave with me each night. He would
eat and drink (alcohol) till as late as 2:00 AM, and then throw his plate at
the wall. That meant that I had to clean up, so I would tell him, “I'm not your
servant to clean up after you.” Then, he would tell me, “Why else have I got
you?” One morning, when I woke up and was about to get ready, I saw that his
family (my in-laws) had come home. They were talking loudly in my presence,
saying, “These girls have planned of all of this. They want to usurp the flat.”
His mother then told him, “You are a eunuch and you are ruining my name! Can’t
you control a girl? Go! tear her clothes and rape her. Let's see what her
father and aunt can do.” Soon after that, he began to grope me and I was very
scared.
It was 7:00 PM and I prayed for the night to end. He was
drunk, and slapped me, and pulled my hair. Everyone in the house could hear all
this, but not one stepped in to stop the mindless violence. Every night from
then on, he would rip my clothes off me, and if I remained silent, he would
bite my hands. After all this, one day, he ripped my clothes off and wanted to
kick me out of the house, but I refused stoutly, telling him that I would not
leave, come what may. I clenched my fists that day, looking for something to
pick up so I could hit him with it. But that day, I also thought that if it
missed its target, he would beat me horribly.
At one point in the journey, I thought that having a baby
would mean that he wouldn’t trouble me for
sex – but, in the third month of my
pregnancy, he put his knee down on my legs, to pin me down, for a good twenty
minutes. I have faced all kinds of violence – including being beaten by the gas
cylinder. I got pregnant with my second child, and it became all too
overwhelming. I started crying, and then, one day, things got so bad that he
hit me so badly, slamming my head against the wall about five or six times. I
was dizzy, but I managed to get out of the house and took an auto to reach the
closest police station. At the police station, they asked me who had hit me. I
said it was my husband. They told me to go to my sister’s or any other
relative’s house, stay there for a few days, and then see for myself, that he
would settle down. This was no solution for me. I knew that if I stayed with
him any longer, I was going to die. It wouldn’t be just death, but a horrible,
painful death.
At that moment, I resolved to prove my worth. I went back
and told him that I would no longer live with him anymore. He got angry, and
asked me, “What did you say?” I looked back in defiance and said, “I’m not
going to live with you!” Seeing all the violence and my resolve to get out, my
brother-in-law came to my rescue and helped me run away. He was beating me so
badly, that my brother-in-law decided to intervene.
As I ran that night, holding one of my children in my arms
and grabbing the other by her hand as she ran alongside me, my husband chased
after me with a sword in hand. I reached my sister’s house, where her husband
said I was a sister to him, and they decided to take me and my children within
their fold, and to take care of us. How many years I had waited to listen to
those words! Ten days of happiness and nights of peace followed. But, my
husband’s vengeance reared its ugly head. He burned down my brother-in-law’s
auto-rickshaw. So, my brother-in-law told my sister to tell me to leave, lest
things go worse.
I met a priest at a Gurudwara and asked if they would
shelter the needy. He said, “A Gurudwara is God’s place so you can come and go
whenever you want!” I took shelter there with my children, staying for about
five days. I was given a mattress and a blanket, and I ate and slept in the
free kitchen, ate the food and drank the milk that they gave us. My children
and I wandered around, homeless, without food. It made me realize that I had to
start earning to support them. We didn’t have any money – but if I could find a
house, I could scrounge up some to pay some money as rent.
My husband used to taunt me, saying I could do nothing for a
living, since I was uneducated and would have to work as a prostitute or in a
dance bar. However, I was certain that I would work hard and do nothing of the
sort he thought I was capable of. At that juncture, I ran into a woman who
asked me to help her around the house, so I could put food on the table. She
also told me that she knew of a house that had no water or electricity, but I
agreed to live there and shifted.
A few days later, she asked me what I would do for a living.
I told her I could work as a cook in about four houses, draw a decent amount
from each and put a good amount into my family’s income trough each month. But,
she recommended that I become someone’s mistress – and that he would take care
of my family, but I refused and told her to never, ever say that to me again. I
left the house immediately, again, and dumped all our bags in my sister’s
house.
A few days later, my sister found a vacancy for a cook at a
mess, and sent me to ask. I did as told, and the man there asked what I could
do. I asked him what he wanted done, and he asked me to make rotis, at about
500 each day, for Rs. 1200 a month. I didn’t think, I just joined his place and
began to work. I would wake up at 8:00 AM, make 250 rotis until about noon, and
then take home some food for lunch, return, make 250 rotis until the evening,
and take home some dinner.
With time, I shifted to a new place, paying a decent rent. I
stopped working at the mess, soon, and made new friends in my neighbourhood.
Incidentally, I saw them dressing beautifully to go to work every day – and I
asked where they were going. They told me they were employed to give massages
and were paid well. I asked them to help me find a job with them, and they
agreed. The next day, I went to the place, and was introduced to a senior, who
asked me if I knew how to massage, and I told her I did, and that I had
massaged my mother-in-law before. She told me to join, agreeing to pay me Rs.
8,000 a month. I took the job on the spot. But, just as I did that, I noticed
the customers who came in were dirty men. I asked if we had to massage men,
too, when a girl told me to come the next day. I did, and at that moment, I saw
a girl sobbing as her customer left. She said that she was forced into oral
sex. I fumed – I couldn’t do this! The girl told me that this was only a
massage parlour by name. She should've told me this before! Now, people would
think I was a whore! I ran away unnoticed, crying to myself at the plight of my
children.
I prayed hard that night, asking God to never make me come
to selling my body or to beg. I asked my father to find me a job. Since he used
to arrange for devotional programs at people’s houses, he gave me someone’s
number and asked me to work there. With some apprehension, I called them – and
they turned out to be a dance troupe. He told me to join the group of dancers
for some money. I did, and it was amazing because food and snacks were given
for free. He paid me Rs. 400, which was huge for me. On another shoot, I met a
friend who told me that I looked like a friend of hers, who did stunts in
films. That was attractive to me, and I wanted a job like that. With her help,
I landed the job.
We went to Ladakh, where they got me to wear a fire body
suit, and a costume on it, and they set it ablaze. The flames burned my face,
and I was in pain – but I was treated. I returned home and my children and
brother told me not to do this work. But I’m not going to quit! I got work as a
stuntswoman and went from one to the next to the next. I enrolled my children
in a good school. I have come a long way in life.
Today, I am in a place where I am sure that a woman doesn’t
need a man to support her. I am proof of this. Why should women be subservient?
Can’t you be your own proof? Do good things and you will get good results. God
will take care of you. My entire journey may seem a journey of bravery and
courage and inspiration – but it makes no difference to me to receive these
titles because I was merely living my life and going forth with it. Never
settle for ghulami (servitude). Never settle for suffering and abuse. Karam
Bhagwan hota hai (work is God). I want people to understand what the true
meaning of Azaadi (freedom) is. It is not the illusory idea that people think
it is. It is truly to be able to stand on your own two feet.