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Rati Agnihotri opens up about her abusive marriage

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Mumbai: The living room of Rati Agnihotri’s Worli penthouse tastefully furnished with Christian iconography and overlooking the Arabian Sea, is marked by quiet and a sense of calm.

But as the reigning star of the 80s recounts in vivid detail the turbulent years of her marriage to architect Anil Virwani, you realise how deceptive the calm is. For, this room and this house is where the actress has suffered horrific domestic abuse. Rati, star of hit films like Ek Duje Ke Liye, Coolie and Tawaif, was at the top of her game when she met Virwani. After a swift courtship, the two were married in 1985 and Rati quit the movie business to become a homemaker and mother. Instances of her husband losing his cool and hitting her began in the initial years of the marriage and progressively became more frequent over 30 years. Each of those instances of beating that had her running around this penthouse like a terrified animal, trying to escape her husband’s blows, is etched in her mind. Blows that were always strategically aimed, never at her face or at a body part that was visible. Her own cheerful demeanour in public helped keep up the facade of the normal happy family. But later, after the arrival of the smartphone, she recorded photographic evidence. Mementos of her wrecked marriage.

But earlier last month, on March 7, when her son, Tanuj, was away in Pune for a film shoot, her husband’s rage left her cowering behind a wooden door, fearing for her life. “I thought to myself that I am a 54-year-old woman and I will progressively grow older and weaker and then one day I will die, beaten to death.” There are no tears, no drama as she relates her ordeal. Just a stoic acceptance of a life-altering night. That afternoon, she realised that there was no looking back and decided to file for a divorce.

A week, later, on March 14, she drove to the police station and filed a complaint of domestic abuse. “I was all alone. My sister is in Poland and my mother, who suffered a brain stroke last year, lies paralysed in a hospital near Pune run by nuns. My son too was away, shooting. My best friend, Shaila, was in Chennai. The two household helps were new, just two and three weeks into the job. There was no one to turn to…”

The subsequent medical examination confirmed her narrative. The police formalities were over by 7 pm but she couldn’t think of returning to the apartment that had been her home for all these years. A helpful person had her punctured tyre fixed, brought her idlis and a soft drink. Moved by the kindness, she began to weep. And then she drove four hours to her bungalow in Lonavala.

“Why did it take me so long to take this decision?” she pre-empts the question. “Well, I had certain priorities, the biggest being my son Tanuj. He was the reason I put up with all this pain for 30 years. I also believed in the sanctity of marriage… I believed in love. Anil was the man I had married despite the fact that my parents had never liked him.And like every girl I’d dreamt of a picture-perfect life with a husband who cared and provided for me. For all these years I’d hoped… prayed… that things would change, that he would change.”

As she waited for him to change, she kept up the charade. To the world he was the epitome of a successful businessman with a beautiful trophy wife who laughed and chatted and exuded positive energy. “There were times when I would tell myself I didn’t have to smile so much, that it was all right to shed a tear sometimes, to frown occasionally, but I never did,” she sighs, admitting that one of the things she’s always longed to do was to laugh out long and loud. “Befikar laughter, without that niggling thought at the back of my head that something bad would eventually follow the happiness.”

In 2000, as the money dried up, she quietly returned to work. “I’ve tried to live my life normally,” she says, rubbishing rumours of her being a depressive. “He’s the one who’s shut himself up at home. I’ve always been accessible except for these last few weeks and that was because I needed time to think. But that doesn’t give anyone reason to judge me.”

In her darkest hour, her son, the reason she stayed on in the abusive relationship, and her dogs were her solace but now, at 54, she is looking at rebuilding her life with the same resilience that saw her putting in long hours on film sets when she was 16.

While still haunted by the past, she says she will be fair to the man who is her son’s father, ensure that he’s comfortable all his life. And then she will take a vacation to Alaska with her son, sister and friend. “Though for now, all I want is a massage. A good two-hour, de-stressing massage, for all the broken bones.”

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