Fearless Freedom Page 3
Arti Dhand points out that in the descriptions of Kaliyug in the Mahabharata, ‘The sexual intermingling of classes is treated as the very worst state of affairs in society, the hallmark of society’s descent into chaos before the final dissolution of the world.’20 She notes that ‘all descriptions of Kaliyuga include graphic representations of varnasamkara, the sexual corruption of classes. Distinctions between high and low are erased . . . In these grim accounts, the mixture of classes is viewed with more than just distaste. It is imbued with real horror.’21 Dhand perceptively notes that ‘the biggest single source of anxiety for the writers of the Mahabharata’ involved women who married ‘beneath’ them. Such women were ‘virulently condemned’, with elaborate tortures being prescribed as punishments for Sudra men and Brahmin women who intermarried.22
The Bhagavad Gita—possibly the most popular religious text for modern-day Hindus—begins with Arjuna, wracked by doubt on the battlefield about the righteousness of the impending fratricidal bloodshed, painting a graphic spectre for Krishna about the lawlessness that such fratricide might usher in. And ‘intermixture of caste’ and the resulting breakdown of the rigid divisions of ‘caste duties’ (that is labour assigned according to birth and caste) are described as the very essence of such lawlessness:
Because of the ascendancy of lawlessness, Krishna,
The family women are corrupted;
When women are corrupted, O Krishna,
The intermixture of caste is born.
Intermixture brings to hell
The family destroyers and the family, too;
The ancestors of these indeed fall,
Deprived of offerings of rice and water.
By these wrongs of the family destroyers,
Producing intermixture of caste,
Caste duties are abolished,
And eternal family laws also.23
In this passage, women are seen to be ‘corrupted’ when they marry outside rather than inside the caste—resulting in what is visualized as the ultimate calamity: the mixing up of castes and the breakdown of the caste-based division of labour.
I’ve often come across rationalizations of caste, claiming that caste was not originally conceived as an assignment of labour based on birth into a particular caste, and was/is, instead, simply a description of different kinds of labour, that anyone could do depending on one’s aptitude or wish. A recent instance of such an argument was a tweet by journalist Abhijit Majumder, which declared, ‘I’m a Kshatriya when I fight and defend my rights and ideas, a Vaishya when I’m engaged in gainful work, a Sudra when I’m cleaning things, and a Brahmin by birth. Above all, I’m a Hindu and an Indian, and proudly so.’24 This statement tries to whitewash the oppressive foundations of caste, by pretending to be innocent of the fact that persons born in oppressed castes face untouchability and apartheid, and can be killed for daring to cross caste boundaries—by voting, going to college, dressing smartly, playing loud music, and, of course, for marrying women from castes ‘above’ their own.
Majumder elaborated on the theme in another tweet: ‘Varnas were meant to categorize work in society. Upper castes used this analysis to tie people down to castes by heredity. Then came untouchability, many believe with invaders/colonialists. We must take caste back to its original analysis, to believe every varna resides in each of us.’25 Is, as Majumder argues, caste oppression a relatively modern distortion of a varna system that was originally a benign ‘categorization of work’ in conception? Was the relationship between ‘caste’ and ‘labour’ originally closer to the sense conveyed by Majumder’s tweets? Is Majumder right when he implies that the oppressive aspects of caste must be blamed, not on the original Hindu concept of caste/varna but on the ‘invaders’ (read Muslim/Mughal rulers) and (British) colonialists? Reading Krishna’s reply to Arjuna in the Gita clears up this question pretty soon.
Krishna’s exposition of ‘duty’ to Arjuna is very explicitly based on birth-based caste. Krishna says: ‘Better one’s own duty though deficient than the duty of another well performed. Better is death in one’s own [caste] duty . . . The duty of another [caste] invites danger.’26 Here, ‘one’s own duty’ (swadharma) and ‘another’s duty’ (paradharma) are clearly defined as duties one is born to do according to the caste one is born into. It is brutally clear here that ‘duty’ has nothing to do with one’s ability or aptitude—one must do one’s caste-assigned duty even if one is deficient at it, and one must not do the work assigned to another caste even if one is very good at it. The Gita, in Krishna’s voice, elaborates on this theme, leaving no room whatsoever for any comforting liberal interpretation.
Krishna declares:
The system of four castes was created by Me,
According to the distribution of the qualities and their acts.27
Is this divinely ordained categorization of the four castes based on work that is freely chosen according to aptitude and skill, or is it based on birth regardless of aptitude, skill or choice? The Gita is unambiguous and crystal-clear that the ‘innate’ qualities of persons, and the corresponding acts and duties, are all based rigidly on birth.
The duties of the Brahmins, the Kshatriyas, the Vaishyas,
And of the Sudras, Arjuna,
Are distributed according to
The qualities which arise from their
own nature.
Tranquility, restraint, austerity, purity,
Forgiveness and uprightness,
Knowledge, wisdom and faith in God
Are the duties of the Brahmins,
Born of their innate nature.
Heroism, majesty, firmness, skill,
Not fleeing in battle,
Generosity and lordly spirit
Are the duties of the Kshatriyas,
Born of their innate nature.
Plowing, cow-herding and trade
Are the duties of the Vaishyas,
Born of their innate nature.
Service is the duty of the Sudras,
Born of their innate nature.28
In fact, the Gita specifically prescribes that the duties assigned on the basis of one’s own birth/caste must be performed even if one is no good at them, and one must never perform the duties assigned to another caste even if one is capable of performing them. All the noble qualities belong to the Brahmins and the Kshatriyas—the Vaishyas are defined only in terms of their occupations rather than any fine qualities; and the Sudras are defined solely by their duty to serve (i.e. labour for) the non-Sudras.
. . . Better one’s own duty, though imperfect,
Than the duty of another well performed;
Performing the duty prescribed by one’s own nature,
One does not incur evil.
One should not abandon the duty to which one is born
Even though it be deficient, Arjuna.29
This passage makes it very clear that in the worldview of the Gita, a person from an oppressed caste, even if well suited to intellectual pursuits, must not abandon their work of ‘service’ to those of other castes and seek instead to acquire knowledge or wisdom, because to do so would be evil and dangerous. One’s ‘inherent nature’ is based on the caste one is born into, irrespective of one’s abilities and aptitudes.
And how is caste maintained and reproduced? By controlling women and ensuring they do not cross caste borders. Women, if allowed to roam freely across caste borders, having sexual relationships and even bearing children with men of ‘lower’ castes, present a terrible danger to the entire social edifice of caste. In the words of Arti Dhand, in the Mahabharata, ‘Women’s sexuality poses a threat to the very foundations on which society is based and is therefore singled out as a frightening and uncontrollable force, potentially beneficial to society, but potentially also destructive.’30 So, in the Mahabharata—and, we may add, in modern-day popular culture and in widely prevalent common sense as well—‘women figure as key ingredients in the breakdown of society in descriptions of the Kaliyug . . . Women contribu
te to the general collapse of civilization through neglect of social and familial duty. They lose reverence for the codes of behavior encouraged by pativrat dharma, and act in ego-indulgent, idiosyncratic ways. Hence they are critical agents in creating the distress signaled by the age and are the source of disquiet and difficulty.’31
In caste, thus, lies the key to understanding India’s obsession with controlling and curbing women’s autonomy. I am introducing this idea—of women’s autonomy and the breakdown of the caste-based division of labour and labourers—as a key element of the spectre of the degenerate modern Kaliyug early on, because it is an idea that is still very much with us. We will come across the same idea in many contexts that we will discuss later in the book: in the opposition of nationalist leaders like Tilak to women’s education; in the writings of Yogi Adityanath, who argues that women’s power must be tightly controlled because of its potentially destructive power if allowed freedom; in the repeated, fascinated invocation by right-wing politicians of the spectre of that folk-devil: the woman student whose assertions of autonomy makes her promiscuous, roaming around on a campus which, because it creates the space for inter-caste sexual relationships, must be a den for ‘free’ sex. We will also, in the course of the book, meet women who welcome Kaliyug specifically for its freedoms, and whose quest for autonomy leads them to confront and resist caste.
The Four Walls of Patriarchy
Confinement to the home is the most common form of oppression and violence against women in India. The confinement is achieved through coercion (the threat, and use, of violence) but also through consent (where girls and women internalize patriarchal moral values valorizing voluntary confinement and stigmatizing free and autonomous mobility).
Such restrictions on autonomy and mobility are joined at the hip with several other—more visible and recognizable—forms of gender violence: domestic violence, honour crimes and, of course, rape culture.
The NFHS-4 findings show that a considerable proportion of not only men but women, too, believe that domestic violence is justified punishment for violating the restrictions on autonomy and failure to fulfil the obligatory forms of labour expected from women in households.
(Source: NFHS-4, Figure 15.4)
Many believe a husband is justified in beating his wife if she goes out without telling him (26 per cent women and 16 per cent men); neglects the house or children (33 per cent women and 20 per cent men); shows disrespect for in-laws (37 per cent women and 29 per cent men); or if suspected of being unfaithful (23 per cent women and men both).
The NFHS-4 also found that attitudes towards wife-beating had changed only marginally since the last NFHS round in 2005–06: ‘For women, agreement with all seven reasons justifying wife-beating has declined by only 3 percentage points from 54 per cent in NFHS-3; for men, the corresponding decline is 9 percentage points, from 51 per cent in NFHS-3’ (NFHS-4, p. 512). Also, ‘agreement with wife-beating tends to increase with age for women but decreases with age for men’ (NFHS-4, Table 15.14.1 and Table 15.14.2).
How do we make sense of the above facts? To me, with years of experience in the women’s movement, it is not particularly surprising to find that a larger proportion of women as compared to men voice justifications for domestic violence. Patriarchal social relations, like other oppressive relations, do not rely on coercion alone—they rely in very large measure on being able to acquire the consent of the subordinated classes or sections of people. Younger women, especially young married women, bear the greatest proportion of the burden of household labour. Young men—and their parents—are encouraged to see themselves as entitled to the domestic services provided by a wife or a daughter-in-law. Older women, who have in their youth borne the burden of such labour, look forward to passing the burden on to daughters-in-law. Daughters-in-law are kept isolated from their parents and friends by restrictions on autonomy, expected to be subordinate to in-laws, to perform household labour and face domestic violence if they fall short in any of these areas. And unsurprisingly, it is older women who are expected to enforce the rules and supervise the labour and subordination of the daughters-in-law, even as they themselves have now earned some measure of respite from the surveillance and subordination.
So, domestic violence is closely linked to household labour, and to restrictions on autonomy and confinement to the home. ‘Safety’ is the pretext for confining women to homes; the outcome is to create consent for the domestic servitude of women.
We have already seen how restrictions on autonomy provide the rationale behind honour crimes, even allowing such crimes to masquerade as ‘safety’ for women.
Restrictions on autonomy are also inextricably linked with rape culture and victim-blaming. In a short documentary by Quint on the rape culture in Haryana, a schoolboy studying in Class VIII says, ‘Both boys and girls are responsible for rape. Rapes happen because girls loiter on the streets. Girls should not leave the house unless they have some work.’32 And he is not alone. The idea that women out in public spaces is the reason for rape is one that is widely believed and propagated, even by senior police officers.
Ironically, women all over the world, and in India too, spend a lot more time and money than men on strategies to ‘stay safe’. A study by economist Girija Borker found, for instance, that woman students of Delhi University were spending much more than men on transportation and settling for colleges less desirable than the ones they qualified for, because of safety considerations.33 Yet, women victims of sexual violence are routinely blamed for having failed to choose safety and to avoid violence! Restrictions on autonomy are part of the ecosystem that enables rape culture.
Above all, what needs to be recognized is that restrictions on autonomy do not achieve safety. Isolation and confinement in the house creates a culture of silence around violence inside the home. And those women who are ‘allowed out to study’ constantly fear an enforced return to the confines of the parental home, and so they’re afraid of complaining of sexual harassment or rape, lest the parents get to know. Girls and women do love their freedom to study, to have friends, to have a job; however much they hate sexual harassment and violence, they do not want to risk those freedoms as the cost of complaining.
Jitender Chattar, a farmer from Haryana, was once notorious as the leader who claimed ‘chow mein causes rape’. But to his credit, he didn’t cling lifelong to such misogynist myths. In a recent article about his support for his wife’s quest for justice against gang rape, he made the insightful observation that schoolgirls facing rampant sexual harassment ‘would never complain to their parents as it could mean no longer being allowed to go to school to study’—a valid apprehension because ‘families had forced their girls to drop out of college’ because of sexual harassment.34
I have worked with survivors of sexual harassment and violence for the past two decades, and, in my experience, the number one reason why women students prefer not to make formal complaints about violence is their fear that when their parents get to know, their education will be curtailed and they will be made to ‘return home’ and get married. Loving, caring parents need to think—why does your daughters’ fear that you will curtail their already limited freedom override their urge for justice when they experience sexual violence?
Want your daughters ‘safe’? Let them know—early—that you have their back; that they and their freedom have your unconditional support; that they will not be blamed or pay with the loss of their freedom for sexual violence. That will embolden them to speak up about sexual harassment and violence rather than suffer in silence.
‘Safety’ for women cannot lie in keeping them within the four walls of patriarchy. Restrictions on women’s autonomy are the stuff of which the four walls of patriarchy are made—they enable all other forms of gender discrimination and violence. Addressing these other forms of violence without tackling the attacks on autonomy is like rearranging the furniture in the patriarchal house. Bring down the walls instead, and the whole patriarchal edific
e will come tumbling down.
2
Organized Crimes
against Women’s
Freedom
Women exercise great courage when they fall in love or marry in defiance of their parents. Why does that courage—and even that love—seem to evaporate if their parents/communities manage to eliminate the lover/husband, or get them back into their custody? Growing up, and as a college student, I used to puzzle over this every time I read news stories about women defending their family members who had killed their partners in the name of ‘honour’. If you loved someone deeply enough for you to take immense emotional, financial and physical risks to be with him, why would you turn loyal to his killers (your parents/family members)? Why would you, in a police station, declare that he is your rapist, not your lover?
In my work as a feminist activist, I got closer to these situations—close enough to be less judgemental about these women. I witnessed how women and girls, confined in their parents’ homes, were subjected to terrible cruelties and torture (including the fear of being killed by kith and kin) that broke their will.
Risking social shame, ostracism and violence, which is inevitable when you break the rules of caste and patriarchy, calls for extraordinary courage, and few of us ordinary people are capable of such extraordinary courage.
When her lover or husband is killed, some vital spark inside the woman, too, dies: her spirit, her courage, her confidence. With her partner/husband, she may have felt confident enough to embrace her in-laws’ family and seek love there—but without him, she loses that confidence. Her bid for independence and her attempt at rebellion foiled, she thinks she can survive only by reconciling herself to her parents, brothers and community.
It’s hard enough standing up to one’s parents and brothers and other loved ones when they are all bearing down upon you to give up your wish to love or marry who you like. But when family pressures are backed up by organized violence and political pressure, young couples and ordinary young women who lack access to any women’s movement find the situation overwhelmingly daunting.