To be honest, this Diwali has been more diabolical than I care to admit!
Delhiites, yours truly included, are breathing in air so toxic, it is apparently tantamount to smoking 40 cigarettes. No evidenced data on this here though, but it does make one wonder on the pointlessness of quitting the habit a few years ago.
But, to come back to the principal track- Diwali!
Every year, the husband I and take one of our bi-annual trips to Varanasi, or Kashi or Benares for the festival of lights. Most years, we drive to the city, an annual ritual of letting the four wheels and our selves fly out a little bit. The drive is something we always start off as being extremely excited about. The first 500 of the 850 kilometer drive from Delhi to Varanasi always begins with a lot of enthusiasm and anticipation. We're efficiently packed and armed with required eats to sail us through the drive without too many pit stops.
The first two loo breaks are a breeze- usually at petrol stations close to Agra. The trouble usually starts after these. For a one man and one woman team, finding usable toilets poses quite a challenge on this route. Innumerable friends recommend the "going in the fields" technique. We don't really cross these many stretches of dense fields, and the ones that we do, are sparse, next to the road and not at all accommodating of bio-break needs.
But this blog post is not about a road trip. It is about a Diwali.
Every year, Diwali has a few predictable repetitions. There's food. Lots of it. There's concurrently a lot of cooking. And there are family members. Lots of them too. And there is patriarchy.
I come from a long line of independent, liberal and feminist Bengali women (and men). Have no qualms about accepting that I am a feminist. But twice a year, I suspend all my learning from theoretical and practical study of the women's movement in India and the world, and try to fill in the shoes of a stereotypical "Bahu" in Uttar Pradesh. This suspension, is in no way indicative of the loss of all agency or understanding of patriarchy and its social manifestations. It is simply a trade-off in search of peaceful domestic situation, five days a year. As a "Bahu", I have (and continue to) break many patriarchal barriers. I have, for instance, made the "ghoonghat" absolutely redundant in my family in Benares. The sindoor, mangal sutra, surname and many other outward manifestations of patriarchal norms have been fought- and soldier reports victory in all sectors!
The patriarchy that I now fight (and sometimes am defeated by) is in the mindset. There is celebration of the promotion of a few daughters in law that work, but an implicit knowledge that the worldly victories of the sons reigns supreme. There is pride in announcing when daughters in laws buy or upgrade their wheels, alongside an unsaid norm that the same women will not travel "un-chaperoned" in the city. The family discusses with gusto, the recent relocation of a cousin's family to North America or the Middle East, but cannot have the sons carry their empty dinner plates to the sink.
This Diwali, a new ammunition in patriarchy's arsenal defeated me. When one attempted to coach the young nephews to being useful around the house and being sensitive to small things like picking their used glasses, plates and the like to the kitchen or to address the helping lady with some respect, I was explained why until I bear a few children of my own, I will not understand why all of these learning is moot.
As a student of feminist theory and literature, one is well aware of the passive power a woman yeilds in traditional structures by her ability to bear children. This, however, was the first time that my dis-inclination this far on the matter was held against me. The absurdity of the argument was as amusing as it is offending- having children is likely to make me less inclined to raise sensitive human beings? Or is the whole pressure of parenting so overwhelming that one chooses to let 'minor' things like gender and humanitarian equity go?
Over the last eight years, there have been countless such face-offs between patriarchal traditions and me both in my in-laws' home and outside. There have been many that I have won, and many more that have beaten me. This conflict is bound to continue, I am certain of it. I am looking forward to more family fun and to equally diabolical Diwalis ahead!
Cheers!
Delhiites, yours truly included, are breathing in air so toxic, it is apparently tantamount to smoking 40 cigarettes. No evidenced data on this here though, but it does make one wonder on the pointlessness of quitting the habit a few years ago.
But, to come back to the principal track- Diwali!
Every year, the husband I and take one of our bi-annual trips to Varanasi, or Kashi or Benares for the festival of lights. Most years, we drive to the city, an annual ritual of letting the four wheels and our selves fly out a little bit. The drive is something we always start off as being extremely excited about. The first 500 of the 850 kilometer drive from Delhi to Varanasi always begins with a lot of enthusiasm and anticipation. We're efficiently packed and armed with required eats to sail us through the drive without too many pit stops.
The first two loo breaks are a breeze- usually at petrol stations close to Agra. The trouble usually starts after these. For a one man and one woman team, finding usable toilets poses quite a challenge on this route. Innumerable friends recommend the "going in the fields" technique. We don't really cross these many stretches of dense fields, and the ones that we do, are sparse, next to the road and not at all accommodating of bio-break needs.
But this blog post is not about a road trip. It is about a Diwali.
Every year, Diwali has a few predictable repetitions. There's food. Lots of it. There's concurrently a lot of cooking. And there are family members. Lots of them too. And there is patriarchy.
I come from a long line of independent, liberal and feminist Bengali women (and men). Have no qualms about accepting that I am a feminist. But twice a year, I suspend all my learning from theoretical and practical study of the women's movement in India and the world, and try to fill in the shoes of a stereotypical "Bahu" in Uttar Pradesh. This suspension, is in no way indicative of the loss of all agency or understanding of patriarchy and its social manifestations. It is simply a trade-off in search of peaceful domestic situation, five days a year. As a "Bahu", I have (and continue to) break many patriarchal barriers. I have, for instance, made the "ghoonghat" absolutely redundant in my family in Benares. The sindoor, mangal sutra, surname and many other outward manifestations of patriarchal norms have been fought- and soldier reports victory in all sectors!
The patriarchy that I now fight (and sometimes am defeated by) is in the mindset. There is celebration of the promotion of a few daughters in law that work, but an implicit knowledge that the worldly victories of the sons reigns supreme. There is pride in announcing when daughters in laws buy or upgrade their wheels, alongside an unsaid norm that the same women will not travel "un-chaperoned" in the city. The family discusses with gusto, the recent relocation of a cousin's family to North America or the Middle East, but cannot have the sons carry their empty dinner plates to the sink.
This Diwali, a new ammunition in patriarchy's arsenal defeated me. When one attempted to coach the young nephews to being useful around the house and being sensitive to small things like picking their used glasses, plates and the like to the kitchen or to address the helping lady with some respect, I was explained why until I bear a few children of my own, I will not understand why all of these learning is moot.
As a student of feminist theory and literature, one is well aware of the passive power a woman yeilds in traditional structures by her ability to bear children. This, however, was the first time that my dis-inclination this far on the matter was held against me. The absurdity of the argument was as amusing as it is offending- having children is likely to make me less inclined to raise sensitive human beings? Or is the whole pressure of parenting so overwhelming that one chooses to let 'minor' things like gender and humanitarian equity go?
Over the last eight years, there have been countless such face-offs between patriarchal traditions and me both in my in-laws' home and outside. There have been many that I have won, and many more that have beaten me. This conflict is bound to continue, I am certain of it. I am looking forward to more family fun and to equally diabolical Diwalis ahead!
Cheers!
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