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Sunday
, July 21, 2002
Books

The feminisation of politics
Rumina Sethi

Hindu Wife, Hindu Nation: Community, Religion and Cultural Nationalism.
by Tanika Sarkar. Permanent Black, New Delhi.
Pages 290. Rs. 575.

Hindu Wife, Hindu Nation: Community, Religion and Cultural NationalismMOST of the essays in Hindu Wife, Hindu Nation have been written over the last many years and published separately. All of them work upon ideas of gender and Hindu cultural nationalism, particularly with the late 19th century Bengal as context. Sarkar has dealt with larger national ideological traditions but not neglected the small, bounded, local events which are skilfully connected with the former. Thus issues of conjugality, deshbhakti and nationalism in their limited parlance are foregrounded against the backdrop of the ‘Hindu way of life’.

The role played by women in the Hindu way of life may well be exemplified by reading Bankim’s Kamalakanter Daptar which eulogized sati or through a rendition of Jyotirindranath Tagore’s patriotic song:

Flames burn higher, burn higher

The widow has come to immolate herself.

Needless to say, the message drummed up is that of ascetic widowhood which with all its stringent living and rituals represented the pride of a spiritual Hindu order. Power relations in 19th century Bengal involved concepts of adhinata (subordination) and dasatya (slavery) where the woman became the true patriotic subject in terms of power relations within the home. The construction of the Hindu wife enabled the Bengali intelligentsia to create a paradigm of the colonial relationship, this time practiced on a domestic level. This woman-construct was to bear the burden of defining the Bengali middle class.

 


Popular songs and lullabies of the day played upon ‘this place of torture’ which separated young daughters from their mothers and playmates. In such a claustrophobic environment, women had to learn to read and write in secrecy, what Rashsundari Debi called ‘jitakshara’ or ‘mastery over the word’. One of Sarkar’s essays focuses on Rashsundari Debi, who had to abandon her schooling owing to an early marriage, and teach herself through the recognition of alphabet learnt long ago in childhood. Despite household chores and the demands of the many children she bore, she succeeded in writing her autobiography. Amar Jiban, perhaps the first autobiography ever to be written in the Bengali language and certainly the first by a Bengali woman, recounts the household experiences of Rashsundari, and as such is hardly eventful. Sarkar, however, exposes the transgressions, the desire for freedom, the misery of having to bring up children, all of which she discovers by uncovering the subtleties in the autobiography. Interestingly, Rashsundari declares: ‘I came to Bharatvarsha’ implying that the India she came to already existed: the sansar she came into was not one she lived in. She lived, on the other hand, in a world of her own as is clear from the autobiography, a secret world of dreams and fantasies. Rashsundari’s focus on time which is not ‘real’ worldly time, her indifference to politics and to other events all indicate her determination to free herself from the concept of ‘Indian’ womanhood at least in the world of imagination.

Other excellent contributions are the essays on Bankim where Sarkar shows how Hindu identity could be conceived in the abstract shape of the Hindu woman who ‘was moulded from her infancy by the Shastric regimen of non-consensual, indissoluble infant marriage, and by iron laws of absolute chastity, austere widowhood and a supposedly proven capacity for self-immolation.’ While one might argue that Bankim has created heroines like Santi (Anandamath) who is trained in both scriptures and military valour like any man, she is, simultaneously, revealed to us disguised as a man and can put her talents to use so long as she is in the garb of a male. In another novel, Kapalakundala, Bankim created a woman completely freed from domesticity, yet her enslavement through marriage is never articulated in terms of Hindu social reform. Bankim’s liberal-rationalist attitude was seen to be intersected by his Hindu nationalism marked by the politics of revivalism which he saw as the only alternative to counter colonialism.

A fitting finale is the discussion on the Hindu rashtra and its Hindutva ideology whose main protagonist here is Sadhvi Rithambhara. She is the advocate of Hindu purism; through her speeches, she excludes Muslims and dalits. Sarkar throws light on the mythical-imaginary devotion of post-independence female cults in north India, namely the worship of Vaishno Devi, Jai Mata Di, Bhawani Ma, Mamta Ma, Shakti Ma and Santoshi Ma brought into prominence by popular films. These are the various icons of shakti propped up by male ideology but disseminated by Rashtrasevikas. In fact, the concept of motherland has been ‘husbanded’ with Ram to construct ‘Ramjanmabhoomi’ out of the existing national ‘matribhoomi’. And if Ayodhya is taken as the birthplace of Ram, it also succeeds in making Ayodhya a motherland to all Hindus. Never mind if the ‘indigeneity’ is corrupted by the use of DCM Toyota vehicles for rathyatras. Sarkar makes use of archives which historians are gradually discovering: prostitutes, artisans, minor theatre persons and criminals are there; she also does not discount the contributions made by bazaar paintings, woodcut prints, street songs and popular theatre. However, except for chapters seven and nine, the book appears rather dated owing to the publication of most of Sarkar’s essays in the last decade when analyses of the feminisation of India, that of the mother iconography as encapsulated in Vande Mataram, or the Hindutva agenda of the nationalists held more appeal.