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| Kamal Dhillon--a true life heroine |
It’s a bit unnerving
when I write a novel only to meet someone real just like the fictional person I created.
Except for one difference—the real life person had a more horrendous experience
than anything I could ever cook up as an author. And believe me—I can cook up
some tough situations. In Shadowed in
Silk and Captured by Moonlight, I put my female characters--Indian and American--through some hard circumstances from abusive
men.
But all that I
concocted blew off like a dandelion in a stiff breeze when I met Kamal Dhillon.
I first heard about
Kamal on Facebook when a former co-worker mentioned that it was International
Woman’s Day and she wanted to nominate Kamal Dhillon as Woman of the Year.
I clicked on Kamal’s website, and knew in less than a minute I had to meet this
woman, and try to tell others about her story and ministry to people suffering
from domestic violence.
Kamal and I had lunch, and it was a delight to meet this beautiful woman of Indian descent, full of the joy of Christ, even as she prepares for more surgery. Kamal has already had several surgeries to correct her jaw that was shattered years ago by continuous and atrocious violence.
Black and Blue Sari, written with raw honesty, tells Kamal's story. Here is an excerpt from this brave woman's book and website.
The woman sat trembling at the foot of her
master. He despised her and tried to control every aspect of her life.
She had inadvertently displeased him again, although she could never have
anticipated beforehand what small violation would set him off. Grabbing
the gallon container of kerosene, her tormentor stood menacingly over
her. She knew what was coming by the icy look in his eyes.
She glanced at the sharp utility knife on the table behind the kerosene, her mind grasping for a possible way out. She quickly discarded the option of using the knife to protect herself, knowing that he would overpower her as he had done so many times before.
She knelt before him with clasped hands, as if praying to some deity, but found no mercy there. Her weak begging landed on deaf ears. The sight of the blood coming from her cut mouth and her pleading cries seemed only to fuel the man’s anger and heighten his sense of power over her.
He cunningly had her in a defenseless position, bowed in the corner of the kitchen. He slowly began to tip the container, watching with satisfaction as the caustic liquid soaked his victim. He took his time, savouring every moment of her indignity. After all the kerosene had been emptied over her drenched form, he shook the container for emphasis to make sure nothing was wasted.
She pictured scenes from an Indian movie where a young bride had been burned. The horror of ending her life through such a painful death engulfed her and made her weak with fear.
Her mind raced to thoughts of her four children, feigning sleep only a few feet away in the same room. Who would look after them if she was gone? Would they be left to the mercy of this monster?
His tobacco stained fingers fanned the matches before her face, taunting her, daring her to light them. The stench in the room was overpowering. The woman gagged as the volatile fumes of the kerosene swirled around her. The man was breathing fumes of his own frustration, as he grabbed her by the hair, lifted her off the ground and flung her into the shower. He muttered something about how filthy she was, about how much she stunk. Then he left the woman, her skin burning, not from kerosene or even the allergic rash that was spreading over her body... Her skin was burning from shame.
“That man was my husband. The woman was me.”
She glanced at the sharp utility knife on the table behind the kerosene, her mind grasping for a possible way out. She quickly discarded the option of using the knife to protect herself, knowing that he would overpower her as he had done so many times before.
She knelt before him with clasped hands, as if praying to some deity, but found no mercy there. Her weak begging landed on deaf ears. The sight of the blood coming from her cut mouth and her pleading cries seemed only to fuel the man’s anger and heighten his sense of power over her.
He cunningly had her in a defenseless position, bowed in the corner of the kitchen. He slowly began to tip the container, watching with satisfaction as the caustic liquid soaked his victim. He took his time, savouring every moment of her indignity. After all the kerosene had been emptied over her drenched form, he shook the container for emphasis to make sure nothing was wasted.
She pictured scenes from an Indian movie where a young bride had been burned. The horror of ending her life through such a painful death engulfed her and made her weak with fear.
Her mind raced to thoughts of her four children, feigning sleep only a few feet away in the same room. Who would look after them if she was gone? Would they be left to the mercy of this monster?
His tobacco stained fingers fanned the matches before her face, taunting her, daring her to light them. The stench in the room was overpowering. The woman gagged as the volatile fumes of the kerosene swirled around her. The man was breathing fumes of his own frustration, as he grabbed her by the hair, lifted her off the ground and flung her into the shower. He muttered something about how filthy she was, about how much she stunk. Then he left the woman, her skin burning, not from kerosene or even the allergic rash that was spreading over her body... Her skin was burning from shame.
“That man was my husband. The woman was me.”
~~
Christine here again: Please pass the link to purchase Kamal Dhillon’s book on to
others. This is a book that must be
shared with others who suffer in this terrible way. Politicians and leaders--civic and national--listen to this woman with tears in their eyes.
Purchase Black and Blue Sari from Kamal Dhillon’sWebsite
Christine Lindsay is
the author of fictional novels set in India. What Kamal Dhillon has done with
her true life experience, Christine tries to do through fiction. Both Kamal
Dhillon and Christine Lindsay write and speak to help others find healing in
Christ, and to affirm and embolden hurting women and men.
Drop by Christine Lindsay's Author Facebook page and like it. She'd really appreciate that.
Connect with Christine on Twitter
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Or subsribe to Christine's blog for her Monday inspirations, Wednesday's Addiction Recovery Miracles, and Friday's Adoption Reunion stories.
Christine, I felt I needed to comment but am speechless. What to say about such sadism? And to know these things are happening all over the world, especially in countries where a woman's value is negligible. So very very sad. Yet how tremendously courageous is this woman to write about the horror she has endured.
ReplyDeleteOh, I managed to say a few words after all and yes, I'll be happy to purchase her book.
Domestic violence is an oxymoron, but you'd be surprised at the number of women, even in this society, that suffer that way daily. I can name three that I know of in our town of fewer than four thousand.
ReplyDeleteSometimes these women can't be persuaded that life can be better in another situation. I've prayed about one in particular for years, and nothing has changed. I feel so helpless and impotent.
You are so right, Judith. This is part of Kamal's ministry, to try to teach men and women about this savagery. It's an uphill battle. That's why I hope Kamal's book gains greater exposure. Her story needs to be read in every country in the world. Her suffering at the hands of her former husband is over, but she had to gain healing. I hope you will get a chance to read her book. And please pass this on.
DeleteThank you Rita. And please pass on this story. Kamal Dhillon is certainly not alone in what she has suffered, but God has given her an extraordinary ministry. Currently she speaks to police forces, politicians, doctors's groups, etc., but I feel her name must be given more exposure. Not only has she suffered, but her emotionl and spiritual healing needs to be shared with others.
ReplyDelete