MiLord Can’t there be a Section 294A for #Mentoo?

 Based on a true story from a young Man working in Indian Court ! 

A divorce case was ongoing. Today, it was finally resolved. Standing in court, the man asked the judge:

"Sir, can’t there be a ‘Section 294’ for men too?"

The judge stared at him, speechless. The man broke down in tears and continued:
"Forgive me, Sir. Everyone knows about Section 498A these days. Men like us don’t need anything that grand. Even half of it—like a ‘Section 294’—could save many innocent men in this world. Laws, I guess, are not made for men."

Was the man's statement satire or sheer despair? Holding his mother’s hand tightly, the 32-year-old man, Suman Majumdar, walked out of the court premises after the case was settled. I stood there watching them leave, my vision blurred, my heart resonating with a strange, sharp ache. I couldn't tell if it was sorrow or something else.

I've been a court clerk for three years now. During this time, I’ve witnessed numerous divorce cases unfold before me. But nothing ever left a scar on my heart like this case. I don't know this man personally, yet I felt a deep, inexplicable pain for him.

These days, the courts are filled with stories of broken relationships. Had I not been working here, I wouldn’t have known how harsh life could be.

One of the judges I work under is someone I deeply respect. He’s kind and speaks beautifully. One day, I went to his house for some urgent work. While chatting, he said:
"Rakesh, it’s time for you to get married. How long will you live alone like this?"

I jokingly replied:
"Sir, I’m doing fine. I have my job, I cook for myself, and I eat what I like. I’m happy being alone. Besides, seeing so many broken marriages in court has made me lose all interest in marriage. Living alone has its own charm—you’re your own boss."

Hearing this, the judge burst out laughing and said, "It’s your life, Rakesh, and you have every right to live it your way."

I added, "But Sir, no matter how much we say we’ll live life on our own terms, can we really? At home, my mother is pressuring me to get married. Let’s see what life has in store. But yes, eventually, we all have to settle down."

Life can put anyone in unexpected situations. Could that young man, Suman, have imagined ten months ago that his marriage of only ten months would end in such a manner?

Suman is neither my friend nor a relative, yet I feel compelled to tell his story. He isn’t a government employee but a successful businessman. After his father’s sudden passing, he took over the family business and managed it well. His family wasn’t struggling; they owned a house in Malda town.

However, just days after his wedding, Suman’s mother was diagnosed with cancer. His household consisted of his ailing mother and his wife, Nandini. All Suman wanted was a peaceful life. But peace was exactly what Nandini couldn’t offer.

Suman and Nandini’s marriage had been arranged. Before the wedding, Suman believed Nandini was the perfect match for him—a simple girl from a lower-middle-class family who would understand him. But Nandini only understood the value of money.

After Suman’s mother’s cancer diagnosis, Nandini declared she couldn’t live with a cancer patient and demanded that Suman buy her a separate flat. Suman replied,
"How is that possible? My mother is unwell. I can’t leave her in this condition."

To this, Nandini said,
"Then give me 25 lakh rupees. I’ll stay at my parents’ house."

Shocked, Suman said,
"How can you even say something like this? I can’t give you that."

From then on, the quarrels began. Nandini demanded ₹20,000 a month for her personal expenses, threatening to leave if her demand wasn’t met. Reluctantly, Suman agreed and gave her ₹20,000 for the first two months. But Nandini wasn’t satisfied. She soon demanded another ₹10,000.

"I can’t," Suman replied firmly.

"Then why did you marry me? I didn’t marry you for nothing," Nandini retorted.

The arguments escalated, and Nandini filed a case against Suman and his mother, alleging domestic violence and demanding ₹50 lakh. Ultimately, the case was settled for ₹24 lakh.

When Suman stood in court, he said:
"Sir, the money I am paying today is from my business. ₹15 lakh is from my business earnings, ₹4 lakh from my mother’s savings, and ₹5 lakh borrowed from others. If I sell my house in Malda, I could raise another ₹40 lakh. I’m willing to give her ₹64 lakh, but I refuse to live with a woman like her. Please grant me my freedom, Sir. I want to spend the rest of my life on my own terms."

What level of suffering compels a person to speak this way? I wondered how Nandini could stoop so low. I didn’t hear her side of the story, but I knew Suman was telling the truth.

Suman’s plight reminded me of my own past. Years ago, when I was a university student, I was in a relationship with a girl for five years. That girl was Nandini. Back then, I did everything I could for her—fulfilling all her wishes within my modest means. But in the end, she left me, saying,
"What’s your worth? How much money do you earn?"

Today, I finally understood Nandini’s true nature. She hasn’t changed one bit.

As I watched Suman leave, I thought about how many innocent men get trapped in false cases, losing their wealth and peace of mind.

For men, there’s no ‘Section 498A.’ There’s no court to understand their pain. Liberation, for them, comes only after losing everything—money, property, and dignity. Divorce isn’t always sorrow; sometimes, it’s the ultimate freedom.