You can never be alone
in India. I have met so many wonderfully colourful characters on our walks
through streets or in places we’ve visited. You simply can't walk more than ten
metres without someone stopping you for a chai and a chat to
find out more about who you are, where you come from, and how you are enjoying
India. Talkative curious men line every street, some with hidden agendas, and
some just wanting to practice English conversation, or make a new friend. I’m
sad to say that of these friendly and spontaneous interactions, next to none
have been with a female. Maybe that says something about my own conversational
shortcomings? I don’t know. But from what I’ve found, it’s harder to make
spontaneous connections with women in the streets than it has been with men.
The women I have had the opportunity to share more than a smile with, I’d have
to say, I’ve met under much more intimate circumstances. In fact, I could count
on two hands the women who I feel I shared a real connection with and who have
become part of my thoughts from shared memories.
The women at Ashok’s house gave me a glimpse into
village life, with families and strong personalities forced to live on top of
one another harmoniously.The first of these women who I met was Nanni. I can’t
remember her name or if it was ever told to me. Nanni is married to ‘Uncle’ and
is the head of the Nagri family. She looks like she is in
her fifties and she has two sons and one daughter. Nanni has bright,
smiling eyes that are curious. Her voice is gentle, even when she is angry. Her
legs are thin, but strong. And she doesn’t seem to have as many joint problems
as other people her age in the village. She greeted each day with a loving
smile, touching my hair the way a mother does. Her maternal gentleness pours
out of her through her openly transparent expression and her actions. And the
resolute finality of her opinion was never lost in translation. During my stay
with Nanni, she never seemed to stop working. Even when there was nothing to do
for the farm, she would spend the day in the fields collecting wood or picking
vegetables for the family.She seemed happiest and most comfortable when she was
sitting on the ground outside the house with her grandchildren, watching
them play with one another.
Dropita is thirty-five
years old, mother of three and the wife of Sri Hari Nagri, Ashok’s brother. Her
family is from a village about 50km from Terela past the town of Beed in
central Maharashtra.She is a small but incredibly strong woman. She impressed
me when I saw her comfortably balance 30kg of water on her head and carry two
10kg pots in each hand from the local well to the house, a two to three hundred
meter return trip. Dropita has a broad smile and a fantastically enthusiastic
head wobble, that I grew accustomed to. I got the impression that her children
were beautiful reflections of her own traits in their excitability,
athleticism, caring nature and a streak of crazy impulsiveness. I think our
friendship was forged after she showed me how to properly take a bath with a
bucket. I didn't mind being the source of laughter when the family
realised that we needed a tutorial from her on how to maximize the water in a
bucket. I am an expert bucket bather these days.
Kanjun is the wife of
Bibishin Nagri. She is in her early twenties and she was married at
the end of last year. It’s been just over a year since she has lived with the
Nagri family. Her husband has been working and training at an army base camp in
Bangalore since January and isn't expected back at the village until
June. Kanjun taught me about sari style. On the night of the
party she firmly shook her head when I pulled out a used sari that I thought I
picked up for a steal. Instead, she selected a beautiful number from her own
wardrobe, in traditional gold embroidery, showing me the difference between
‘bargain basement’ and ‘Indian elegance’. She wrapped me delicately in
the lovely material like her own sister and afterwards stepped back and nodded
approvingly at her own handiwork.
Kanjun's
responsibilities include chapatti making and cooking, water
collecting and any household tasks given to her by her mother-in-law
and helping her sister-in-law with all her housework. She is the youngest of
all the wives in the house and treated so. Since she has no children she can
dedicate all her time to chores and housework. She is quiet and generally only
speaks only when spoken to. Often though, she would come into our room just to
sit and talk. Kanjun misses her husband a lot, and is counting down the days
until Bibishin’s return. She wants her own baby and it would seem that by having
a child, she would gain more respect from her mother-in-law and more of a voice
within the family.
Pasang is a beautiful
woman who owns a small restaurant at the top of the hill in Darjeeling. She
always wore her hair down using a few bobby pins to hold back her hair away
from her face. Her eyes are always lined lightly with mascara and this frames
her eyes on her white skin, making her smile even more striking. She dresses
comfortably and warmly with shoes she proudly announces are from her eldest son
who is away working in the Middle East. In a photo she showed me of her when
she was younger and travelling. She was wearing a red dress and she looked
incredibly elegant and almost like a Japanese woman on her wedding day. Her
husband is not around, but we never spoke of him, all that I knew is that they
were in love. She runs the shop alone and sometimes has help from her son
Karma. She seemed reserved towards us at first, but it’s only natural when
people pass through her restaurant so frequently. We had the pleasure of
hearing her infectious and uncontrollable laughter that confirmed to me that
she is still a girl at heart.
Ang Mu is a mother of
two and thirty years old. She lives in the only house in the district of
Yurutse on the edge of the Markah Valley in Ladakh. Her marriage was “not a
love marriage” as she told me. She lives with her in-laws, her husband and her
youngest son. Her parents live in a village two days walk away. She never went
to school. Her eldest son is ten and has been at boarding school in Leh since
he was four. She smiles sadly while looking at her almost two-year-old son, and
says, “When he’s four, he will go too.” Ang Mu moves and works silently, but
laughs heartily when she’s amused and her smile is generous and kind. The family
opens their house as a homestay during the summer to earn some more money
during the tourist season. It is perfectly situated between Rumbak a popular
rest stop for trekkers coming from Zingchen, and the Kande Pass, for those
coming from Chilling.
It hasn't been
easy to meet and speak with Indian women everyday. They juggle family and
everything else, as well as being resigned workaholics. I realised they're
harder to meet because they're generally just very busy and don’t have much
time in their days to sit down for a chat! The women I’ve been lucky to meet
who have let me into their days, have come from different backgrounds and live
in different settings, and despite being imposed into sometimes-difficult
social and family traditions and situations, they seem to have found happiness
even though it is sometimes born out of tolerance. Although my encounters with these women were brief, it was their
independence that first jumped out in the look of their eyes upon meeting them.
And while talking to them and hearing their stories, I feel it’s their internal
strength, sense of humour and individual spirit that makes them unforgettable
to me.
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