Sunday, November 2, 2003


Real and imagined women
Rumina Sethi

Re-searching Indian Women.
edited by Vijaya Ramaswamy. Manohar, Delhi.
Rs 750. Pages 380

Re-searching Indian WomenTHE plethora of festivities in October has set me thinking how many of them revolve around the discourse relating to women. That a majority of women play their roles to the hilt, in cinema, television and in real life despite the many theories about exploitation, oppression and marginalisation only goes to show that there is a real world out there outside and prior to the discourse. Yet theory agitates tirelessly and has, at least, succeeded in roping the so-called "thinking" woman into its fold. The gap between fashionable theory and the world of real events has recently produced a virtual library of edited feminist texts which sit on my table. One of these is Vijaya Ramaswamy’s collection of papers which locate the politics of female iconisation.

Ramaswamy’s own introductory essay sets the ball rolling with a discussion on mythological icons — Ahalya, Draupadi, Sita, Tara and Mandodari. There exists a couplet which exhorts the Hindu wife to repeat the names of these illustrious women to destroy all sin because all of them are icons of chastity. While Draupadi, who had five husbands, is different from the fairly non-controversial husband-devotee, Sita, the two are birds of a feather when we talk of the ideal "pativrata". Both conform to the "ideal" Indian woman, whose chief function of devoted wifehood has turned her into an icon. So long as the two exist in mythology, we remain happy, but when mythological icons threaten to freeze living women, all hell breaks loose.


The essays in this volume are directly confrontational, accusing men of creating a patriarchal set-up fortified by the Dharma Shastras, Smritis and Puranas. A complete epistemology has been created where woman is "prakriti" or the regenerating force and, as such, is required to have the necessary values of motherhood, patience, endurance etc. Those who are not so virtuous will be fickle, sensuous, timid and weak, thus making it incumbent upon men to protect them and reinstate them within the former view. As spake Manu, so spoke Freud: women who did not conform to these stereotypes were called neurotics or hysterical. In short, they were deviant women or aberrations.

Yet the common man will talk about the "golden age" of women — Gargi, Maitreyi, Apala, Lopamudra and fourteen others, all known as the Brahmavadinis. These special Hindu women are known to have performed religious ceremonies and were permitted into traditional male forms of worship, yet only 10 among the thousand hymns which have come down to us from the Vedas were authored by them. These hymns, significantly, are about prayers for fertility rather than the metaphysical issues. Even the religious activities that they were allowed to participate in pertain to household sacrifices. There have been other saintly figures like Lal Ded of Kashmir, who discarded even her clothes when giving up worldly trappings, and Meera Bai, who gave up the veil and danced through Mewar with anklets on her feet, but these women largely exist outside mainstream worship.

Other icons exist like the Rani of Jhansi or Razia Sultan. Whereas the former is legitimised as "Mardani", the latter is always believed to be handicapped by her sex. If Lakshmibai is turned into a male figure according to the popular song, she is sure not to overreach the specific political imperatives of the 1857 struggle for which she has been appropriated.

The iconisation of women is not restricted to literary or religious representations alone. Art, too, has its icons: Raja Ravi Verma’s role models such as Sita, Yashoda, Draupadi, Damyanti and Shakuntala is an attempt to find "perfect" icons of womanhood. Verma later became interested in providing ideals for all sorts of Indian women — Tamil, Maharashtrian and Bengali. His ideal Indian woman was to contain the beauty of Damyanti, the patience of Shakuntala and the loyalty of Draupadi. A subversive painting of M.F. Husain’s nude Saraswati, however, was enough to agitate the Hindus. However, Husain created his own icons, notably that of Madhuri Dixit. As Vijaya Ramaswamy puts it: "Iconisation has taken place constantly only to go through transformations, transmutations and`85 transcreations."

The existence of icons necessarily includes their breakdown also. The bandit queen is one example of the terrorising woman, but then we have Kali and Durga to frame and limit her vengeance. Feminist Studies since the 1970s have been busy recovering the real woman by writing her back into male-centric histories. Shohini Ghosh’s essay on Fire is clearly an attempt to locate women outside the ambit of marriage.

The dominant themes of becoming the "good wife" are interrogated by Patricia Uberoi when she examines the stereotypes in the popular magazine Women’s Era. Rajol Sogani looks at alternative lives for widows in a rigidly defined society by examining both male and female representations.

Uma Chakravarty explores Dalit women’s identity, which has always been excluded from the accounts of British orientalists, Indian nationalists, Hindu orthodoxy and Western feminists because of the upsurge of studies focussing on the upper-caste Hindu woman. Other contributions are about "lustful" women in folk songs, women in labour unions and the indifference to their gender issues during agitation for equal rights, the urban displacement of the non-iconic midwife whose expertise in alternative medical wisdom is phenomenal, and women in theatre who performed iconic roles, but were regarded as prostitute figures by society. Re-searching Indian Women is surely among a different genre of women’s writing investigating hitherto unexplored themes.

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