It is being talked about
everywhere......International Women’s Day! For the past one week or so, the
same topic is everywhere; be it the radio, television or the newspaper. Got me
thinking as to what it is, to be brought up as a girl in post independent
India. In what way was my mother’s life different from mine and how was her life
different from my grandmother’s?
I was
born in a Tamil Brahmin family exactly Eleven years after India became an
independent country. My maternal grandfather was posted at Pollachi in
Tamilnadu and I was born at home on 17th October 1958. My father,
far away in Delhi was jubilant and treated all his friends to Masala Dosa,
Sweets and Coffee, much to the amazement of his North Indian friends. Even the
landlady to whom he joyously handed a packet of Doodh Pedas, shook her head and
consoled my dad; don’t worry, next time you will be blessed with a son!
My early childhood is a long list of colourful
memories; the spotted deer of Delhi zoo, the white Roshogullas at Bengali
market, boat rides and fun at the India Gate and the long convoluted slides of
the famous Children’s park. My parents taught me to recite Shlokas and taught
me the alphabets and numbers with the eagerness of all young parents with their
first born. Soon we shifted to Rishikesh, where my father was one of the
pioneers in setting up the IDPL factory. I was sent to the project school along
with all the other children of IDPL employees. All boys and girls studied
together and even after 55 years I fondly remember all the fights, fun and
masti we had in the class room when the teacher was away. Many of my friends
had six or seven siblings. I remember Jayshree who had five sisters, and
finally her mother gave birth to a boy and there was such jubilation and
celebration. Another friend Preeti had seven sisters but no brother. There was
another boy Rajesh who had four brothers but no sisters. I was the only one who
had no sibling up till I was ten years old.
IDPL was a Public Sector undertaking, and there
were people from all parts of the country, but as far as I can remember, there
was no discrimination between boys and girls. In fact girls always got a little
more, be it the special Lehenga for Rakhi or coloured glass bangles for all
major festivals. We got to play Sita’s friends in the local Ramleela play,
where we would all be decked up in finery and flowers and got to occupy the
prime position on the stage on the day Sita Svayamvar was enacted. The boys only got to wear red or
black shorts depending on which side of the army they were in the Ram-Ravan
Yuddh. Their faces were unrecognizable as they were either painted red or
black. All they got to do was run around the stage shouting Jai Shreeram if
they were part of the Vanar Sena and make strange noises if they were part of
the Raavan army. Even in the school annual day, girls got all the glam and
glitter, while the boys sweated it out on the sports field.
It was
my mother who took care of my early childhood education as father got very busy
with purchase and accounts and recruitment in the new pharmaceutical industry.
She herself went to school only up to Eighth standard at Bishop Cotton Convent
in Trivandrum. She told me tearfully one day, that her father had to withdraw
her from school as in those days girls were not allowed to go out of the house
once they attained puberty. She was so sharp that I am certain if she was
allowed to pursue higher education she would have ended up as a scholar. My
mother had told me the story of her paternal grand aunt Shankarambal who got
widowed at the age of seven and was not allowed to go out of the house, play,
wear colourful clothes or glass bangles. One day she asked her father the
reason for the treatment she got and he explained that her husband was bitten
by a snake and he had died. Hence she has become a widow and widows are not
supposed to enjoy anything in life. According to my mother, this aunt requested
her father to be allowed to study. A home tutor was appointed and she was taught
by him sitting behind a screen. She studied hard and stood first in the state
of Travancore in the matriculation exams. Her father was so impressed that he
made arrangements for her to study medicine. Later on she went abroad and got
her MRCP and FRCS and returned as an accomplished surgeon. She never remarried,
but adopted two boys and led a fulfilled life. Whenever I asked my mother as to
why she did not protest and insisted on studying further, she evaded the
question and never answered. My grandmother too was married off at the age of
eleven and became a mother at the tender age of fourteen. My paternal
grandmother too got married at twelve and by the time she reached thirty was a
mother of fourteen children. I remember them as extremely intelligent, wise and
erudite women. They were almost magical in the way they handled the entire
household, took care of their children and grand children, gracefully handled
all social obligations and remembered every single recipe, ritual, story, and
songs for every occasion. Surely they were highly respected and emancipated
members of society. I am not condoning child marriage and multiple childbirth
and domestic slavery, but I marvel at the dignity with which the women of my
grandmother’s times carried themselves, and carved out important social niches
for themselves.
One of
the many women who left a lasting imprint on my growing years was my school
headmistress Miss Pateth. She encouraged me to be part of every single academic
event in the city as well as state and honed my communication skills in Hindi
as well as English. After passing class eight it was time to shift to the Girls
Inter College in the city as the project school was only up to class eight. Our
Headmistress Dr. Hemvati Gupta was a freedom fighter and a firm believer in
woman empowerment. She wanted us to be part of the state cricket team and take
part in all other sporting and cultural events. We grew up idolising Diana
Idulgi and Shanta Rangaswamy( the female cricketing legends of India). Of
course we had our share of crushes on Sunil Gavaskar, Farooq Engineer, Tony
Lewis, and Greg Chapel.
The seventies were the time of great romantic
Hindi films with the handsome Rajesh Khanna, the poster boy. Many of my
classmates had secret crushes on anyone who managed to look like Rajesh Khanna.
It was also the era of angry young man Amitabh Bacchan and the boy next door
Amol Palekar. Art films like Ankur, Nishant, Mrigaya with strong social
messages left a very lasting impression those days. The 1960-80 was the most happening era of the century.
While the Indo-Pak wars left us all steeped in patriotic fervour, the clamping
of Emergency by Prime minister Indira Gandhi left us all groping in the
darkness of political turmoil. Man landed on moon, the television sets took
over our social lives and Doordarshan took up the role of friend, philosopher
and guide.
I was sent to Dehradun to
complete my graduation and Post graduation. Many of my father’s friends wanted
to know as to why he was spending so much money and risking sending me to a
hostel for higher studies. These were the very same people who went to clubs
and danced and drank, but became very conservative when it came to their
daughters’ upbringing. The city of Dehradun those days was a curious mixture of
modern, fashionable and forward looking yet traditional social set up. We were
the first batch of the students of the newly formed Garhwal University. The ‘Chipko’
movement started by the women of Uttarakhand (the erstwhile UP) against large
scale deforestation of the hills was at its peak and the sparks of agitation
for a separate state had been ignited.
It was an exciting era, with
great women like Sushila Dobhal as the Vice Chancellor of Garhwal University.
Social evils like the dowry system and child marriage were strongly condemned
and many of our male friends publicly took oaths to never marry for dowry. It
was an age of idealism; female foeticide was unheard of, there were very few
dowry deaths. Parents were convinced about educating their daughters and letting
them work. The sunshine of gender equality had started peeping through the dark
clouds of oppression.
I think
it was the sudden surge of material well being and the rat race for more
material gain that upset the apple cart. Our next generation suddenly had too
much of everything; from information to communication to access to more
opportunities for some, and deprivation for many others. The entire society got
caught in the cross current of conflicting ideas and ideals and what was
perceived as modern vs traditional. The state of anxiety and the confusion that
this conflict has brought is the reason for all the aggression, violence and
hatred.. It is sad to know that women young and old alike no longer feel safe;
gender bias and gender based crimes have surpassed all limits, and women of our
country have to fight for everything; even the right to be born!
The
scenario is not restricted to India alone. The air in the world is thick with
intolerance, hatred and violence. The root cause of it all-greed to possess
more and more, and if you can’t do that, annihilate those who seem to have more
than you.
What
can women do to change the scenario? Stand united, move on with conviction;
raise your voice against everything that is threatening peace on this planet.
Don’t be afraid because you are a woman, because that is your greatest
strength! Get your act together and show the world the path to peaceful co
existence!
HAPPY
WOMENS DAY..........
