The synthetic net fabric of the apple red saree was adorned with machine-achieved embroidery. Sunita’s fingers were entwined in the deep gorges of this saree in nervous anticipation, but her vision was completely obstructed by the pallu on her head. She felt glad to be finally getting married.
Ever since she had turned 16, her family had looked at her with suspicion. She wasn’t their's to feed, and it was time she was shipped off to her real family. She had seven other siblings, and she lay somewhat in the middle, so her existence did not carry great emotional weight for her parents. In fact, they even considered the task of finding her a groom unnecessarily arduous. As in most cases, a nosy distant relative remembered her and suggested a match with a man six years her senior who lived only 150 km away from her native village. There was no need for immense checks over the proposed match as Sunita’s dowry wasn’t substantial. Her family was satisfied with the familial connection, as no one could pinpoint what one needed to be truly happy.
She herself nursed a latent curiosity about her to-be husband, but such questioning wasn’t allowed. One had to accept whatever was served.
At her in-laws’ too, there wasn’t much fanfare. The only area of interest was how much dowry she would be bringing in, and the question had been adequately answered. Other than that, it was assumed that she would fulfil all her roles seamlessly; there was no doubt. Sunita herself knew she was devoid of any faults that afflict some faraway women. Father’s cousin’s neighbor’s daughter had gone to the university in Patna to study. ‘What a shame, she will be ruined,’ people whispered.
Sunita herself had only been educated till 6th class, but unlike her mother, she could make lists of household items that needed to be bought, or read bhajans when prompted.
In her newly minted house, she was subject to the same tasks, albeit with greater scrutiny. Her husband did not regard her differently from any other member of the family, including the servants. He felt it appropriate to leave her in his mother’s care, as spending too much time in women’s inferior company didn’t suit his status.
She was often bored, and this led to passive-aggressive tiffs with other women in the household who were equally disgruntled. Even though she wasn’t the youngest daughter-in-law, she was the poorest, so these battles never concluded in her favour. Once she complained to her husband, who reminded her that the family was able to purchase more land due to the youngest sister-in-law’s dowry and her luxurious life was made possible only due to such sacrifice.
The house became the root of suffocation, and yet Sunita could not escape it. In this village, women don’t travel unaccompanied, and even if accompanied, they can only go to designated places for delineated occasions. The favored members of the family would be allowed to venture out more often, for they represented the family’s face. All men could go anywhere. If Sunita insisted on going to a wedding or a funeral, she’d be chided, for people would think that their family didn’t have enough to eat, so all members show up for every function. Men eat first anyway.
Devoid of any mental stimulation, she got into the habit of reciting bhajans to her grandmother. Soon, in her advanced age, the grandmother expressed an interest in visiting the thakurbaari regularly. Time was passing, and she needed to be in god’s shelter. The local temple was the one place that women were allowed to visit without men, probably because men had more important things to do. Sunita took on the responsibility without any resistance.
In the thakurbaari, because she could read, she led the prayers alongside the erudite panditji. Soon, the women began asking her questions, especially those who were too shy to approach the male pandit. Paditji was all too happy to delegate the enquiries to Sunita, considering not everything had a scope for dakshina or a private havan at their households.
Once grandmother passed away, Sunita’s devotion persisted. Women would flock to Sunita’s house in droves. She transformed into Sunita didi. Queries on which flower to be submitted to which god, the timing of specific prayers, exact monetary amount to be sacrificed for which havan were all questions that Sunita didi answered with precision and gravity. Her husband wasn’t much too happy to receive so many strangers in their household, yet religion was something his all-powerful masculinity could also not revolt against.
He was sitting on his porch when Pradhan ji’s son, Vinay, came in with his wife. Vinay’s visit itself wasn’t perplexing, considering Sunita’s husband attended school with him, but seeing his wife was surprising. Vinay clarified that his wife had actually come in to ask Sunita about the things required for his son’s mundan ritual. He invited their entire family for the mundan, but specifically requested Sunita’s presence as it would help a lot in making the event run more smoothly. Vinay’s wife shyly gestured for her husband to ask about Sunita’s whereabouts. Catching the question Sunita’s husband pointed to the pooja* room towards the left.
There Sunita sat in her repose, seemingly for hours, counting her rosary beads with utmost serious expression. Soon, family members agreed that their good fortune was all due to her piousness.
*bhajan - religious songs
*pallu - a cloth worn on the head
*thakurbaari - local temple
*panditji - scholar of Hindu religion who leads the prayers
*havan - auspicious prayer
*dakshina - a token amount given to religious scholars
*didi - sister, said respectfully
*mundan - a Hindu ritual where the head of a baby is shaved
*pooja room - prayer room
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As urban women, we often wonder about the value of religion, especially those customs that were designed to subjugate us. But an interesting phenomenon subsists in the hinterlands of India where religion is often the only tool for freedom and identity for women. Devotion is an unquestioned currency.
In my village in Bihar, women aren’t allowed to venture out without male company. The market is a male space. In the handful of places that exist for people to find community, only the temples are easily accessible to women. Come 4-5 PM, you see a slew of women on the roads leaving their houses to go to one place they can. It was not always that women were allowed to freely worship. In a society that deemed religion inherently worthy, it was the men who sat for important poojas and occupied central positions in religious activities. Right to entry to various religious sites like Sabarimala has been contentious and hard-won. Now that economic activity plays the central role in our lives, men who are too busy are uncomfortable for women to become upholders of culture through religion.
Women find themselves devoid of identity and in a state of alienation. They find belonging in the structures allowed by religion. Following religion turns into a matter of pride, which in turn can lead to internalized misogyny due to the inherent patriarchal nature of religious institutions.
About the Author: Tanvi is a lawyer and a theatre practitioner who lives in New Delhi. Her work has previously been published in The Hemlock, The Quint and FairObserver.
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