We’ve just released a special podcast, Himal Footnotes, where I sit down with the independent journalist Romita Saluja to unpack her haunting investigation for Himal, “The woman in the bathroom”. We explore the harrowing case of Ramrati, whose years of confinement in a tiny bathroom mirror the tragic “madwoman” tropes of classic literature. Beyond the initial headlines, we discuss the necessity of slow journalism in revealing the systemic failures and complex communal silences that surround domestic violence and mental health.
Below is an edited transcript of the conversation. Read the full reportage here.
Leena Gita Reghunath: Hello everyone, welcome to a Himal special podcast – an interview with Romita Saluja, the author of “The woman in the bathroom” for Himal. When Romita came to me with the story, it brought up a lot of emotions that I had to unpack. My mind immediately went to a lot of fictional stories we have read about similar cases. The Yellow Wallpaper, an 1892 short story by Charlotte Perkins Gilman, in which a woman who was having mental health issues is locked up in a room and, in isolation, slowly loses control of her narrative.
Romita, I’m sure that you also had a couple of stories in mind, and you even framed the title of the piece in light of one of the literary pieces out there. Can you tell me a bit about it?
Romita Saluja: Hi Leena, thank you so much. I was introduced to Jane Eyre when I was 17. One of the most fascinating characters was Bertha Mason, the abandoned wife of the male protagonist, whom he locks up in an attic. She’s more famously known as the “mad woman in the attic” because her husband thought that she had mental health issues. I thought about her so many times while reporting on the story of Ramrati. In fact, at one point, the title was “The mad woman in the bathroom” because their stories are so similar. Both of them were abused by their husbands. Both of them were locked up in a small room. None received mental health support and none got justice. Bertha ultimately kills herself, and Ramrati is forced to live with her abusive husband.
I’m glad you mentioned The Yellow Wallpaper. One advantage of the story is that we know what the narrator was doing in her isolation. She was imagining patterns behind the wallpaper. But unfortunately, we’ll never know what Ramrati did inside that bathroom, what she did with her isolation and long confinement. I was looking through an old notebook that I carried with me when I first visited Ramrati and one of the questions I had for her was: “What did you do all day inside the bathroom?” Another question was: “Can you remember a dream that you had there?” But unfortunately, our conversation would never reach that point because as soon as I mentioned the bathroom incident or asked a question about her husband, she went silent. After that, I couldn’t get an answer that I could comprehend.
Leena Gita Reghunath: You stayed with the story even after it disappeared from the headlines. What made you go back?
Romita Saluja: The story broke in the media when most of us were under lockdown. At a time when we were trying to make sense of this sudden confinement, there emerged the story of a woman who was not locked in a house, but in a bathroom – and one so small that you cannot even lie down. You’ll always have to bend your knees or curl up in a fetal position. This was beyond imagination, and I wanted to know what happened to her.
Another question that was constantly bothering me was: how is it that a woman suddenly disappears from public life? She’s not seen around in the village and at family gatherings for two years and nobody really goes and checks up on her. How far can you really push the “this is their internal matter” narrative? How is it that nobody intervened? I also wanted to study the situation the children were in. What would you do if you are torn between a mother who’s supposedly sick and needs care and a father who is quite abusive and who wants you to protect him from the legal system?
Honestly, I didn’t plan on spending so long with the story, but I’m glad I did because each year of delay added a different layer to the story. In 2021, her cousin told me that Ramrati is back on her feet and working in the fields. I wanted to understand her journey from being in a state where she can’t even stretch her legs to finally working in the fields. But just after that, sometime in 2022, her cousin told me that she had gone back to her husband. Then the question I wanted to explore was: what systems do we have in place for women like Ramrati? Why do most survivors of gender-based violence have to go back to their abusive families?
Leena Gita Reghunath: All these nuances that Romita is talking about, none of these answers are black and white. The harsh realities of everyday life in a village and the care available to someone who is suffering mental health is laid out in the story. In this journey, what is that most shocking moment that has stayed with you?
Romita Saluja: To be honest, I think I was prepared to be shocked.
But if you ask me about a moment that will stay with me, it was my conversation with Ramrati’s friend. It was in late 2023. Somebody mentioned her friend’s name and I thought, let me just go meet her too. But she didn’t have a phone. The village is so small, if you contact somebody they will know that there is a journalist who is trying to talk. I contacted a community healthcare worker in another village and told her this is a discrete affair. She activated her network of Anganwadi workers. They chose a government school as a venue while the children had their winter vacations.
In that school, all of us – about 10 to 15 women – we sat in a circle and the doors were shut. We were all looking towards this old woman, Ramrati’s friend. As she started peeling back layer after layer, that interview gave me a sense of who Ramrati had been 20 years ago. Then she admitted the important role that she played in Ramrati’s rescue.
Her son was waiting outside and he started knocking on the door: “Are you done?” The Anganwadi workers came up with an excuse that this was Aadhaar-related work. It was a moment that gave me goosebumps – so many women coming together to set up this very important meeting.
Leena Gita Reghunath: I think that’s the beauty of this reporting too – we get to see that Ramrati found an ally who came to her rescue. You went back to see Ramrati at the end of last year. How is she right now?
Romita Saluja: When I first met her in 2023, she was definitely more energetic. She would often tell me “have chai, have chai” even though she wasn’t speaking in any full sentences. But when I met her the last time in December, I noticed some changes in her appearance. Her hair had been cut short and she wasn’t as energetic. The smile that she used to often give me wasn’t as wide anymore.
Leena Gita Reghunath: Thank you, Romita. You have provided a strong case for slow, long-form journalism by telling a story that gives a 360-degree view of this shocking incident, which helps us understand the protections that are available to someone who is suffering from mental health issues and is a victim of domestic violence.
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Best wishes,
Leena