What do you think? A possible project....

I've been writing about a number of gender issues lately and so have many other women. One of the recurring problems that women in trouble seem to face is the isolation and the lack of validation of their concerns.
I was wondering if we could set up a community blog with resources and link it to each of our blogs. If we know of any resource that may help women and make their lives easier, we can list this here. Since many women will participate, we can get resources from across India and maybe abroad.
Examples would include names and contact of lawyers and police officials with whom we (or someone we know) have some personal experience. A short review will be awesome. Help with creches and domestic help agencies or even plumbers and carpenters, internet providers - anything that will help a woman who is trying to settle into a new city (with her family or alone).
We can also share details of everything from shopping deals to safe areas to settle down at or job openings we know of. We can post information about shelters or therapists that we know.
The important thing is that the people who post this should have some personal experiences with the people they are recommending and should write a review, so that this does not turn into commercial list and we take some responsibility for what we recommend or don't recommend.
We can have an email address for the blog, so women would be able to write back. It can also link to relevant blog posts and resources.
It would be awesome to have some first person accounts of how women dealt with new situations - whether moving to a new city or learning to cook, or getting a divorce or finding a job.You needn't even write anything unless you have something to recommend. Even if it's a virtual support group, it could still be a group. Also, we need not write new stuff. We can link to existing information eg. An example would be Starry Eyes on adoption.
What do you think? And will you be willing to participate? How do you think we could improve on this idea? Should we even pursue it? If enough people are interested, I personally think it would be a good step to take. Write back.

Two true stories: To do or not to do

A few days earlier IHM put up a post titled  “What would you have done?” This is not related, but it did put me in mind of situations when one cannot do anything. The first incident happened at my first job when I went to interview the founders of a mental health rehabilitation center.
The first person I met while I was in the waiting room was a young girl, Anju*. She was about fifteen; she was beautiful. Anju complimented me on my dress and told me that she could dress as well as me, if she wanted to. “I can look prettier than you too,” she said. “I'm sure you can,” I agreed.
Suddenly, she clutched my hand and pressed a slip of paper into my hand. “Please call this number, and tell them to take me away from this terrible place. Please,” she pleaded.
I was flabbergasted to put it mildly. I was totally unprepared for this. Anju went on to tell me that she was a top student at a local NGO-run school. She assured me that she was completely normal and she was kidnapped and being held there against her will.
Anju said she was being abused by the volunteers at the center and that experiments were conducted on her. She also told me that she was subjected to shock treatments as a punishment and that she was kept so constantly drugged that she lost whole days and weeks of her life.
Before I jumped into any conclusions, during the interview that followed, I expressed an interest - "That's a pretty girl outside. Is she really a patient or does she work here?". The founder readily gave me Anju's case file. She also requested me to visit Anju whenever I could, since they encouraged the patients to interact with the world outside as much as possible.
The case file reported that she came from a dysfunctional family. Her father was a pimp and her mother a sex worker. Anju had been inducted into prostitution as a young child. Her mental balance lost, she was rescued when a 'customer' reported her to the center.
Repeated attempts to rehabilitate her proved unsuccessful as she was confused about whether she wanted to stay at the asylum or return to her family. Every attempt to reunite her with her parents put her right back on the streets turning tricks.
During my visits, I saw that the patients were not kept locked and many of them, including Anju, could move freely outside. There was a telephone in the visitor's hall which anyone could use. It was not locked and the visitor's hall was often empty and Anju spent a lot of her time alone there. I figured that she could make that call if she wanted to. I also found out that the school Anju mentioned had never existed.
I didn't call the number she gave me, but I went back and visited Anju several times. The next time I met her, she praised the institution and told me that they had saved her. The next time round, she seemed to hate it there. Her conversations and her file confused me completely and apart from a few visits, I did not try to get her out of there. She seemed safer there.
Possibly her case file was entirely true. In which case, I did the right thing by not calling the number she asked me to. Abused people do try to get back to the familiarity of their abusers. Possibly her story is true, in which case I passed judgement and turned my back on someone that reached out to me.
After a while, I moved to a different place and could not continue the visits. But Anju is often in my thoughts and prayers. And to this day, 11 years later, I still wonder. Was Anju paranoid delusional? Was she trapped?
Another, more disturbing incident happened during the process of my own divorce. I was waiting to see my lawyer when a lovely young woman with a beautiful 2-year-old in her arms stepped past me. They were so lovely – the both of them – that I turned to look. The little girl Ken's age at that time.
While talking to me later, my lawyer and I were discussing divorce cases in general when she gave me the shocking statistics that only about 3 per cent of women who work up the courage to meet a lawyer actually follow through till the divorce. Many drop off at some point; so arduous is the process.
Without realising that I had seen and noticed her previous client, she told me about that woman, Meera*. Meera was an only child in the second year of her B.A. when her father passed away. According to the family custom, she was married off within six months of his death to a Dubai-based businessman, who had lost both his parents.
With no relatives to speak of, Meera and her mother sold whatever little property they had and handed it to Meera's husband for investment. Mother and daughter moved into his luxurious flat and he returned to Dubai. Apart from a visit when the child was about a week old, Meera had not met her husband and was looking forward to his visit two years later.
A few days into his long-awaited visit, Meera discovered that he was sexually abusing her daughter. She had no job, her education was incomplete; she and her mother were completely dependent on this man for their daily bread and shelter. They had no relatives on both sides to turn to. The day I saw her was her first visit to the lawyer; the abuse had been going on for the last 10 days - the duration of his visit. She was afraid to confront him and wanted to explore her options.
The lawyer adviced her to move to a woman's shelter immediately and file a police complaint and a case against her husband and offered to help. When I met her the next time, I asked her about Meera. After leaving that day,saying that she would think about it, Meera had never returned. She had left no contact details, so the lawyer could not follow up either. Sadly, the lawyer was not surprised. She said that this was quite common.
Moving out and taking her husband to Court was a bigger challenge for Meera than accepting what was happening to her daughter. I can close my eyes and see that child in her yellow frock and I hope that Meera did leave with her or that that entire episode was just a misunderstanding.
The challenge for women like Meera who have literally given their all to the men in their lives is the paucity of options. She had an old dependant mother and a little baby girl. She had been clearly raised in a cocoon of wealth and sanskaar. She was a "family woman." She had no money and no identity of her own. She probably had no idea where to start.
The moment a person moves out of the shelter of the family, the options that are open to them are bleak. Abused at home, further abused at various 'shelters' and 'institutions' that they have been placed at, it is the lack of economic freedom that drive these women back into the clutches of the men who abuse them.
The reasons these shelters are so ineffective are clear. Many of these orphanages, shelters and centers are dependent on local businessmen and political leaders for funding and permissions. Unscrupulous persons among them look upon the inmates as a harem, negating the purpose of the existence of such institutions.
While some founders, managers and trustees do try to stand up to them, the pressure is too high and they believe that sacrificing a few children to serve the larger interests of the rest is alright. A little like the widow ashram in Deepa Mehta's Water that prostituted one widow so that the rest could eat and live with dignity.
In these cases, local police, staff and even the social workers who volunteer are aware of the situation, but do nothing to stop this. In any case, where else can these vulnerable people go? Is it better to stay in one of these shelters and be preyed upon occasionally or stay on the streets and be subjected to harassment every day?
Educated people satisfy their consciences with organising a lunch or dinner for inmates in shelters and orphanages. Many prefer to send the money and don't even visit to ensure that the “feast” is served. It requires persistence and determination to get to the root of the issue. And if you do, what then?
A small tip of the iceberg was visible in the Anchorage Orphanage case. This was widely reported but justice was not served here. The arthouse film Manorama – Six Feet Under, focusses the issue on child trafficking in Indian orphanages. However, children continue to be vulnerable - both in India and abroad.
What can we do? Volunteer regularly?  And even if we open a can of worms, what then? I have no idea. It would be wonderful to think that we can make the change. The media can make the change. To quote the Jessica Lal case. But that is just one case. The rest of India is yet to get its chance at justice.

* Names changed to protect privacy

 

Mamta: A perspective on roles of Indian Women

Mamta or maternal – this word forms the essence of womanhood in our country. In India, every woman considered worthy of respect and devotion embodies mamta. Mamta is built on the foundations of sacrifice, self-denial, chastity bordering on abstinence, unconditional maternal love and unquestioning family loyalty. A woman who does not have these qualities is neither respected nor valued in traditional Indian society. 

In our country, a woman's mamta is a product of several factors. An Indian woman's goodness is determined by the quickness, the perceptiveness and the willingness with which she makes sacrifices. Her worth is established by how self-effacing she can be. Her value is ascertained by how forgiving and patient she can be. The woman who excels in all these qualities is considered suitable for the responsibility of Indian motherhood. And the entire family and social system is committed to making all women fit better into this specific mould.

Indian motherhood is somewhat different from the motherhood that women of other nations have and value. Our nation is one of those rare places where it is politically, legally and culturally correct to tell a woman that she achieves completeness only when she becomes a mother. A traditional Indian mother is not a facilitator or an enabler for her child. She is an anchor. Unlike other mothers who step aside after showing their children the path they must travel on, an Indian mother's success is deemed to lie in travelling the entire path with the child.

A traditional Indian mother's role is not that of a bird pushing her chick to test its wings. Her role is to bind her chick to the nest with a soft silken thread so that he does not fly too far. She does not want to teach her child how to fish, nor does she encourage him to discover the source of fish. She gives him so much fish that he remains as dependent on her for his daily needs, as she is on him for her identity. If she dies, another woman takes over her role and keeps the child (regardless of age) in the same state of ignorant dependence. 

In order to prepare for this unique role, an Indian girl is trained from childhood. She spends her whole life in preparation for this great moment of achieving Indian motherhood -in overt and covert ways. Until she bears her own children, she practices her maternal love on her dolls, her parents, her in-laws and even her partner.  
As part of her training, a traditional Indian girl learns to obey her elders and acknowledge the superiority of the males of her family – younger or older. She learns to suppress her opinions or express them in such a way that she does not offend other members of the family.When she can crucify herself effectively and smile doing it, she has the adequate amount of mamta.

Because of this unique training, a traditional good Indian woman is expected to be able to mother everyone. She makes sure that her family is overfed and welcomes a chance to go hungry. She makes sure that she is able to nurse family members or outsiders – giving up sleep, attending to any bedside needs and making sure they take their medications. She takes complete responsibility for everyone's physical and emotional well-being. Even a bride is expected to quickly learn her marital family's routines, likes and dislikes and the sooner she does this, the better mother she will eventually make.

So strong is the Indian woman's maternal instinct that she treats her husband as her eldest son. She openly refers to him as her eldest son and the seeming incestuous angle of this declaration does not faze her or her audience. For, everyone else has an eldest son-cum-husband in their homes as well. Thus, even her sexual side is completely subjugated by her mamta.

Ultimately, when she finally has the children that she has been trained all her life for, she shares a unique, almost parasitic relationship with them. Her identity and importance rests with them, and she has compromised almost every human desire for this moment. Therefore she clings to them by making them cling to her - like two creepers living off each other with the family institution as a support system.
While Indian motherhood establishes her identity, and gives a direction to her mamta, it also brings with it its uniquely Indian challenges. Indian mothers are held  entirely responsible for the value system that an Indian child subscribes to. However, the value system that she is expected to inculcate in her children is not some Decalogue that she has worked out in the course of her life. Oh no! It is an amalgam of values, attitudes and lifestyle choices subscribed to by her marital home.

This is where the self-effacement, the blind obedience and the unquestioning loyalty that she has practised all her life come to her aid. If she did not possess these qualities in abundance, it would be impossible for her to effectively train her children in a code of conduct that she has not worked out for herself. In essence, she is merely the link that passes on the sanskaar of her marital home from the generation before her to the generation that follows.

An Indian woman's varied roles as a daughter, a sister, a wife, a daughter-in-law and even as a working woman, are intrinsically coloured and flavoured and moulded by this great melting pot of mamta – the role that she was supposedly created for. Her choices, her character and her lifestyle are defined by her mamta. Whether she leaves a bad relationship or stays, whether she drops a successful career or works, whether she has children or not... Ultimately all her big life decisions are bound, cinched and decreed by her mamta.

In traditional society, Indian womanhood is defined by mamta, is worshipped by mamta and identified with mamta. Indian womanhood is celebrated by mamta, is honoured by mamta and idolized as mamta. Indian womanhood is established by mamta, is idealised by mamta and determined by mamta.

On the other hand, Indian womanhood is seduced by mamta, is stereotyped by mamta and is shackled by mamta. It is denied by mamta, is distorted by mamta and often debased by mamta. Indian womanhood is a lot bigger than mamta. A whole lot bigger. Perhaps this Woman's Day, we should think about freeing Indian women to enjoy all the roles they have, unadulterated by the burden of mamta.

I tag Desi Girl, Eeprikka and Shilpa Desh to participate.