Adversity sometimes brings out the best in a person, and nowhere is this more obvious than in the case of widows who rise above their tragedy and build themselves a new life, no matter how painful. I know of at least three women, each of whom, though devastated by the loss of her husband, has nevertheless been able to make a success of her life. Each of these women has shown great courage and is deserving of the highest praise, yet, strangely, their efforts have not met with the approval of their families. The tale of one such widow, Swapna, is a case in point.
Swapna was fairly young when her husband suddenly died of a heart attack. Just 38 then, and particularly helpless, her friends despaired of what would become of her. She had a teenaged son and daughter to bring up and they feared that she lacked the equipment to do so. The trouble was that she had been overprotected by her husband and was totally dependent on him for even the most minor of decisions. Married early, and with no more than a minimal education, she had been a willing subscriber to the lord-and-master syndrome. Content to have her life revolve around hearth and home, she had left all else to her husband.
I believe it was Nancy Reagan who compared a woman to a tea bag, insofar as not until she is in hot water, can you tell her strength. Swapna was to prove the truth of this. Far from collapsing under the weight of her sorrow, she buckled down to coping constructively with her new life. Her approach was pragmatic and down to earth. She had been left fairly well off, and now she bought a small flat into which she moved with her children. With the security of a roof over her head, she next set about finding herself a job as a teacher in a school. This involved first completing a teacher?s training course, but undaunted by the embarrassment of being with a group of students so much younger than her, she saw it through. Nor did she neglect her social life. Learning to drive so that she could move around freely, she joined a rummy group and a music circle. She still grieved for her husband, but there was no doubt that she found her new-found independence intoxicating. Whether it was finance, food, education or entertainment, she now knew that she could cope. This was heady knowledge for someone who had not even known how to sign a cheque earlier.
Those of us who had known her in her earlier avatar could not help but be impressed by the distance Swapna had travelled. But her in-laws, though by no means orthodox, found it hard to accept that Swapna could have found happiness in spite of their son?s death. Unable to condone such behaviour, they have little to do with her today. Would they have preferred her to be helpless, miserable, and dependent, I sometimes wonder?
