Iron in Our Soul, Not in Our Blood- The Sad Tale of the Indian Woman

chillibreeze writer — Nandita Chatterjee

Durga Puja. Maha Ashtami.
“Vidya samastastava devi veda, Striya samastah sakala jagatsu* “ went the chanting, with the rhythmic beats of the dhak at the background.

Bharati stood silently, holding onto her crippled child, staring with awe at the grand image of the Goddess Durga, the idol of strength personified. Along with an ardent prayer, there was also a tinge of identification in her expression. Did she feel the strength of the Goddess within herself?

Bharati, a frail looking ordinary Indian woman was a young mother of three girls—the youngest being a congenitally crippled child of seven. This 3rd childbirth had been a disgrace to the family—so the 22 year old, sickly and malnourished Bharati had been dumped with her three kids at her parents’ place, where again she was just a great burden, borne with much resentment. What was Bharati’s fate? Plunging into utter darkness and gradual demolition? No. Young and frail, Bharati had the courage to live, the guts to hope. Or maybe, she was too big a fool to despair. With her utterly impractical hopefulness she ran from post to pillar with her 1.8 kg deformed newborn, struggling for her survival. It meant long queues at the hospital outdoor, even longer waits at the local leader’s office for a BPL card. At the end of a long wait, a ray of hope would prompt her to run again—now to an orthopedic surgeon, then to a physiotherapist; once to a neurologist, later to a special educator. The race was unending, but tire she knew not of. In between all this, she had to keep her job as a domestic help to provide for herself and her kids. Her day started at 5 AM: household chores, feeding the children & sending them to school, then rushing to the apartment she worked at. Washing, cleaning, scrubbing continued till she sought a break to run to the hospital for the little baby. Coming back home at 2PM, cooking a fast lunch for the children, she would again rush off to work. Later in the evening, she would return home, only to find loads of chores still waiting for her. Her food? Yes, bits here & there were her fill.

This is how days, months & years have been passing for Bharati. In the meantime, the deformed, distorted child had miraculously survived and was growing up. The bud, which seemed destined to be nipped, was blooming! Yes, a miracle indeed. She had learnt to sit, to stand and walk (of course with the support device Bharatiya had managed to buy with her petty savings), to talk, sing, read & write! The greatest miracle was that she had a brilliant brain. She was going to school now and doing really well. Still deformed with a defective gait and grip, she was excelling in everything: studies, music, elocution, even drawing! A winner in all, she was now a real wonder, vibrant and happy, full of life. And behind her was the real winner: Bharati.

Now, after seven long years, her family, her husband, her in-laws all realized her potential. The hidden strength & ability in this apparently frail and foolish speck of a girl was evident now. She had it in her—the Iron Will.

Bharati depicts the true picture of an ordinary Indian woman with iron in her soul: the manifestation of the Goddess of Shakti in her. “Ya Devi sarva bhuteshu shakti rupena sangsthita….. Ya Devi sarva bhuteshu matri rupena sangsthita” Devi manifests as shakti, as a mother. This is why we hear Swami Vivekananda proclaim “The real shakti worshiper is he who knows that God is the omnipresent force of the universe and sees in the woman the manifestation of that force.

Yet sadly enough, the Bharatis of our country do have the strong will of Ma Durga, but what of Her rosy cheeks? They are replaced by a pale, sunken faces. Had a little of the iron from Bharati’s soul truckled to her blood, the hemoglobin level would have risen to an acceptable level. But, unfortunately, neglect from day one has prevented that.

The Bharatis of our Bharat are born unwanted into the family and grow up as a by-product. They are deprived of nutrition at all levels: the mother’s milk, the family food, nutritional additives.... everything. Illness is inadequately attended to, what to speak of convalescence. Education is considered an extravagance. Then at a tender pubertal age they are wed off or rather got rid of. She now lands up in a life of greater deprivation and oppression, from the frying pan to the fire. Added to this comes the brunt of an underage pregnancy, again with very little medical attention. The ordeal continues: childbirth, lactation, another pregnancy, a new member. Yet one more.. and one more… the story goes on. The net result is that she gets drained of all vitality—severe anemia is the ultimate picture.

This is the sad story of the common Indian woman, all our Bharatis, who have iron in their soul but lack it in their blood. Our energy sources are thus being reduced to weaklings, and every single Indian should feel responsible for this negligence & deprivation of women. To quote Swami Vivekananda once more, “ That nation which does not respect women has never become great and never will ever be in future…. The uplift of women must come first and then only can any real good come about for the country, for India”

* You are in every woman in the universe as her beauty, her knowledge, her modesty.

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Nandita writes for chillibreeze.

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