HER WORLD | Sunday, May 5, 2002, Chandigarh, India |
A home
without sense of belonging Matter of perspective Mothers wait for Mondays VIEWPOINT |
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A home
without sense of belonging ASK anyone around you if they believe women should enjoy an equal status in society. Nine times out of ten, they will reply with a resounding ‘yes’. The law, notably the Hindu Code Bill and the Indian Succession Act, endorses the belief and most progressive parents uphold the law in theory, if not in practice. But how equal is equal? For most people, equality for women means a right to education and to work, but not the right to property and inheritance. A small number might even go a step further and agree to grant equal succession rights to their daughters, but still they will not give them equal responsibilities in business or family matters. A glass barrier exists even in the case of highly educated daughters earning as much or more than sons. Which means that whenever parents are in need of support or financial help, they will still turn to their sons, and will not accept that they have the same right over their daughter’s or son-in-law’s income or home. In business, they staunchly stick to the principle that only sons can carry on the family tradition. While most parents agree that daughters lend tremendous emotional support to parents in their later years, they still have reservations about living with daughters or accepting financial assistance from them. Nearly forty-seven years after these equality laws were passed, our social milieu still does not permit daughters to be equal in real terms. Why is this? Who stops parents and daughters from implementing the provisions of law, not only in letter but also in spirit? Actress and mother of two celebrity daughters (Supriya Pathak and Ratna Pathak Naseeruddin Shah), Dina Pathak feels that the major reason for this situation is that the attitude of the sons-in-law or their families have not kept up with the laws. Because of the inferior position which even highly educated or earning daughters hold in their matrimonial families, they cannot help their parents without their in-laws’ consent. Matrimonial families often are the worst enemies of their married daughters and it is they who put unbearable pressure of censure on the young bahu if she is perceived as being ‘partial’ to her parents. The husband, his family and society at large, insist that her matrimonial family is her first responsibility and all the money she earns, all nurturing she can provide, must go to her in-laws. Her first priority must be her husband and children; her second, her in-laws and then she may help out her parents if she so desires. Daughters themselves are willing to conform to this system which exerts great pressure on them. They feel they can take their own parents for granted and displease them rather than create rifts in their marriage. At the same time, being educated and aware of their rights, they demand that they should be equal heirs to their parent’s property and often depend on their parents for childcare or homecare if they happen to have demanding careers. Of course, there are exceptions. There are daughters who fight their battles to support their parents, there are modern sons-in-law who see that both sets of parents deserve equal attention, but these are the exceptions rather than the rule. Many such daughters say they are most willing to support and nurture their parents but tradition is so strong that parents hesitate or worse still, feel humiliated to ask their daughters for help. Talking on behalf of such daughters, Yamini Zaveri, a daughter of Tribhuvandas Bhimhi jewellers’ family, says that her father stood by her throughout her messy divorce. Though she lives with her parents now, she is independent and works to bring efficiency into the ancestral business as well as runs her own business. She says she would love to help her father financially but he will not accept this, much to her regret. Charulata Shah, a boisterous socialite, who manages the systems in her industrialist husband’s company, sees the reality of our society in her way. “In India,” she says, “parents find it very hard to ask daughters for help. If they are ever in trouble, they are inclined to look to the son. In my case, I feel I have enough to look after myself and will not ask help from my son or daughter. I myself do all I can to see to the welfare of my parents, but I must say that they too would depend upon sons more than daughters. The majority of Indian women are censured if they are ‘too attached’ to their parents.” Many women are not even allowed to visit their parents often, let alone help them. The parents themselves are not encouraged to visit the daughter’s new home. Many communities still believe that to eat in a daughter’s house is a humiliation and they follow this custom meticulously. Hindi films—even superhits like Hum Apke Hain Kaun or Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam —show the daughter throwing a handful of rice over her shoulder at her marriage to ‘repay’ the debt of her parents and to accept that she has ‘disconnected’ herself from the family of her birth so as to be able to join her new family. The husband and in-laws see to it that the daughter cannot remain an important part of her parental family. Sometimes, daughters are caught between two families and suffer tremendous guilt feelings. In recent years, the number of young women running into serious marital problems and quitting their matrimonial homes to return to their parents, has increased alarmingly. This has forced parents to support their daughters through bad times and to help them become self-reliant. In case where there are children or where the daughter is not capable of earning enough for herself and her children, the parents support her financially and by providing childcare. Social forces and women activists too insist that in the daughter’s hour of need, parents must take her back home. This, however means that separated or divorced daughters are hardly ever in a position to support their old parents. Their own deprivation and trauma is such that parents have to offer unconditional support, in the process, losing out on their peace-of-mind and rest that only retirement and old age provides. Another unfortunate aspect of modern
Indian life is the sibling rivalry that often prevents daughters from caring for old or ill parents. While they are witnesses to the ill-treatment meted out to old parents by callous and selfish sons and daughters-in-law, they are quick to follow their example out of cussedness. As one such daughter says, “Our custom is that sons must look after parents. When we have brothers who are affluent, why should we take on their responsibility? Our husbands also create trouble if we spend on our parents. Also, we never really get an equal share of our parents’ property. Why then should we offer equal care?” Millions of middle class parents in India today live neglected lives in relative poverty while their sons and daughters enjoy all trappings of an affluent lifestyle. Western concepts of individualism and the lure of capitalism, only reinforces the tendency to consider the elder people who have educated and brought up yuppy sons and daughters abysmal bores. Increasing materialism has put several young couples in a mad rush to build good portfolios, properties and assets. Thus, both sons and daughters seem obsessed with the parents’ house, jewellery, bank balances and other possessions. Innumerable families today have broken up, or at the very least, family members lead troubled lives because siblings keep tabs on every asset from minor gifts to settlements made for the grandchildren. To appease all children, parents often end up giving ‘dowries’ to both sons and daughters to help them settle in life. In this clamour for money, parents remain ‘givers’ even in their twilight years. Many of them have personally beaten the hereditary bogey of poverty and deprivation which the Indian middle class was born with, having helped destroy retrogressive traditions for progressive ideals only to find they are not the beneficiaries of their struggle. The nineties brand of consumerism and individualism has witnessed an increasing number of parents looking after their own security by saving and investing for a rainy day and turning to friends of the same age or even loyal servants to take care of them in the winter of their lives. |
Matter
of perspective A chance remark by a lady accompanying me startled me out of my thoughts. My casual enquiry about her daughter-in-law brought forward a strange response. She said: “Oh, my daughter-in-law works from 9 to 5. She catches a bus for a nearby town at 8 ‘O clock and reaches back home by 6 ‘O clock.” When I commented, “That’s quite hard” on her, she quickly replied “Oh yes, I manage her children all day, she does nothing, just makes them study.” Quite taken aback, I found her attitude upsetting. ‘How immensely sad,’ I thought, that the poor mother has been totally relegated to the background. Lady, I beg to differ. I think your daughter-in-law works very hard too. She spends all her days in a dull, humdrum existence, without complaining. She is the epitome of today’s working woman. Respect her aspirations, admire her perseverance but don’t berate her or mock at her. How often we see matchmaking mothers keenly searching for a ‘beautiful, well-educated, smart girl’. More often than not, a working girl is preferred because it increases the family’s prestige, income and status. With such a package come certain responsibilities. With marriage come kids and the fond grandparents cannot stop telling anecdotes about their grandchildren What is astonishing is the speed, with which this love and affection take a backseat. Managing the house and the children, the mother-in-law feels wronged and upset. She is convinced that she has had a raw deal, while the daughter-in-law is having all the fun. How totally wrong she is. My conviction stems from the fact that I am a working mom, as is my friend, my neighbour and maybe you! Lady, perhaps you were never a working mother. Are you aware of the tremendous pressures today’s working mother goes through? Life is not exactly a bed of roses for her. Getting up early, packing breakfast, lunch, getting the children ready, rushing to catch a bus — it’s a perpetual race against time. At the office, the drill starts immediately with tough assignments, deadlines to be met and new problems cropping up everyday. In the evening, its back to home with a heavy head. At home, you put on your dragon cap and call the kids. You rush though fractions, oceans and continents and try to convince your ten-year-old son, to be a man and draw a world map on a chart by himself. At sharp nine your 8-year-old tugs at your shirt — she needs some notebook, pencils or colors right then! You frantically hunt for your vehicle’s keys. At the door, some guests drop in for a chat. You smile unconvincingly and promise to sit with them the next day (so what if you’ve said it countless times!). You are labelled unsocial and rude. A familiar car enters your drive and you look upwards and sigh. Outstation relatives have invited themselves again. You hope it’s not for an indefinite stay, like last time. You try to bring some semblance of order in a mad world. Your head is throbbing and you skip dinner, since the bed seems more inviting. Where are the roses? At work, no one is sympathetic to domestic problems. The attitude is “Its your problem, solve it”. Fair enough mister, but don’t gloat when things go wrong with females only! Is it humanly possible to singlehanded tackle illness, examinations and domestic emergencies? What about the lord and master of the family? The traditional Indian male is still a chauvinist at heart. Both genders are equal, but some are more equal than others are. you are lucky if he’s willing to help. Count your blessings, if your (lesser?) half is not an egoist, despite constant efforts from friends and family alike, to make him one. Perhaps it is not correct to generalise. For this attitude is not prevalent in each household. There are happy families who realise that in today’s competitive world, each family member must be flexible. There are men who don’t think it’s unmanly to lend a hand in the house. May their tribe increase! I have certain suggestions to make, with the hope, that they will be accepted in the right spirit. Children are a joint responsibility and must be cared for by both parents. Grandparents are the backbone of a home: What if they lend a hand with a smile, instead of as a favour? I am sure parents would greatly appreciate such
help. Why can’t guests be considerate and not expect to be entertained, at the end of a tiring day? Have a heart! Surely weekends are there for such visits. Why must relatives invite themselves for long visits, totally insensitive to the inconvenience caused/ Why does no one understand the plight of the modern working mom? Let’s do our little bit and make life easier for her. We can start by removing the gender bias in our offices. at home and at work stop being petty or malicious. Wouldn’t it sensible, to make our office environment more pleasant and our homes more welcoming? Let’s, in all fairness, not pass judgements. After all, what each of us sees, is simply a matter of perspective. Let’s not break a woman’s spirit, but boost her morale. Happier working mothers would automatically lead to happier homes. |
Mothers wait for Mondays SUNDAY comes after ‘moanday, tearsday, wailsday, thumpsday, frightday, shatterday’ as the six days have been described by James Joyce. The good Lord said to Moses at Mount Sinai, “Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord, your God. In it you shall do no work…” He thus pronounced Sundays as the day to rest and relax. But it is not to be for the Indian housewife who is busier than a bee on Sundays, slogging from early morn till she drops exhausted into bed at night. She is the martyr sacrificing her Sabbath for the ‘swarg-sa-ghar.’ Just imagine a Sunday morning scene. Everyone’s late in rising from beds. M’lady makes endless trips from the kitchen to the bedrooms, serving umpteen cups of bed tea - after all it’s a Sunday. Perhaps this is her morning walk! A speedometer fixed on a housewife’s feet revealed that she walksed 17 km in a day - in her house only. Breakfast is a leisurely affair in front of the idiot box. Years ago, when Ramanand Sagar’s Ramayan was telecast on Sunday mornings on DD at 9 a.m. my kids bathed, shampooed, breakfasted including milk quickly gulped down, would park themselves punctually in front of the TV. The serial did discipline kids to hurry, scurry and be punctual. Sunday is also the only day when house is in total disarray. Daughters practice their beauty walk with faces smeared with malai-besan and curlers in their hair. Boys are shining the car. Once my hubby rolled up his pyjamas and decided to do gardening. I was definitely not amused when some unexpected guests mistook him for the mali Mother Hen, hassled and harried is frying and fluffing puris for a hungry roost, as Sunday’s lunch menu is invariably puri-alu in most Indian homes. Admonish her for a simpler lunch? Oh no! ‘Bechare husband and kids never get to eat them on week days,’ is her explanation. I do know of a very ‘considerate’ family who give the lady of the house her Sunday off by not making her roll out chapattis on Sundays. Instead they order tandoori roti or naan from the nearby joint while she spends the mornings preparing dal makhni or butter chicken or anything they fancy! Everyone at home is happy. Who has made it possible? The housewife, of course! When husbands and children are ideal Sabbatarians, housewives are advised to jump in their bandwagon and take it easy. Join them, if you can’t fight them. But rue the Bhartiya nari. Sunday is the only day when the housewife is not the queen in her Queendom. Roles are reversed. It’s the day when the family rules. How they get on her nerves! Secretly she waits and craves for Monday to dawn when she can get back into her schedule of a saner and an orderly life after packing off her hubby and children to office, school or college with their tiffin. As the famous Usha Uthup’s voice blares ‘It’s a Beautiful Sunday, It’s a Beautiful Day…,’I recall these lines by Annie Komorny: They are off to school- each girl and boy, And mother, fondly kissing them, Knows that she can now enjoy |