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| Related Articles: The poor Roop Kanwars of India http://sikhnet.com/sikhnet/discussion.nsf/By+Topic/c69369b78fd6a63b872566640067495b?Open Marry Your Daughter to a Dog Sati - Brahmin Annihilation of Widows The Return of Sati Worship *************************************************************************************************************** THE SEXES By Shobha De A fate like Radha's There are very few newspaper images that manage to stick in one's mind once the paper has been digested and discarded. And yet, there's a photograph that has been haunting me since the day it appeared on the front page of a leading daily. It shows a six-year- old girl, Radha, grotesquely dressed as a child-bride, sitting by the side of her ten-year-old "husband," Sunder Singh. Little Radha has been caught bawling unselfconsciously by the Reuters cameraman, while the groom stares impassively into the lens, an ungainly, over-sized turban balancing precariously on his small head. This is a tragic image. It is more than likely that the wire photograph will find eager takers all over the world. It is precisely the kind of news story that gets lapped up by the international media, understandably so. It has all the elements that make a masala report out of India newsworthy, medieval traditions, exotic rituals and crimes against innocent children. It is an equally shocking report for desis [Indians] to swallow. Some desis. Enlightened desis. The abominable practice of child betrothals continues in pockets all over India. This particular ceremony was conducted in Jodhpur [Rajasthan]. The photographer has captured the pathos of the moment perfectly. Apart from the two main protagonists, there are others in the frame too, veiled women (possibly, mothers of the kids), another little girl in bridal finery, a teenager adjusting the dupatta on the bawling bride's head. But finally, it's the expression in the eyes of the 10-year-old Sunder Singh that leaves an indelible impression. His little-boy mouth is set in a thin, grim line. He sits shrinking away from his future wife, narrow shoulders bunched up. Tinsel garlands strung around his neck. And those great, big kohl-lined eyes boring holes into the person looking at the photograph. Maybe I am imagining it, but he seems to be accusing the world through his silence. While the little girl is more vocal about her protest. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe she's crying, simply because she's hungry, thristy or hot. And maybe he just wants to go home, kick off his fancy dress and fly kites with the village boys. Instead, the two children have been trapped into an alliance from which there is no escape, not in this life. I recall an evening spent with one of the former rulers of Jodhpur a year or so ago. I can clearly remember the bizarre conversation we'd had in an unreal setting (by a lotus-pool situated in one of India's grandest hotels). We'd discussed "sati" while the maharajah sipped a fine French wine, and Naomi Campbell, the world's highest paid fashion model lounged nonchalantly on a deck chair close by. The still, hot desert air of Rajasthan, added to the oppressive atmosphere, as I listened, only half-believing what I was hearing. The maharajah claimed later that he'd been putting me on all along. That he'd said what he had (endorsing the barbaric practice of 'sati' in the state) only to provoke me. Well, even if I were to accept his delayed reaction to a column I wrote about the incident, I still find it shocking and sickening that someone in this day and age could make a joke out of the issue. Given this backdrop, I wasn't surprised to discover that the child marriages were taking place in Jodhpur, defying a ban on marriages of anyone below the age of 18. As it so frequently happens, I thought of my own daughters, all four of them. And tried to imagine each one in the place of little Radha, unfortunate Radha. Weeping now, for perhaps the wrong reasons. But doomed to weep for the rest of her life as well. In the same country at the same time, there are millions of other more fortunate girls who determine their own futures. Girls like my daughters. And their friends. Girls who truly live in the twenty-first century, as is their right to. Who will never ever be pushed into making decisions that could affect them adversely. Major decisions. Or even minor ones. Compare their destinies with Radha's. Committed to marriage at age six, a mother by age sixteen, maybe a widow with four or five children in her mid-twenties, and a sati thereafter. An urnful of ashes, with a hallowed "site" to call her own. Immortalised by cruel villagers, cashing in on her drug-induced "sacrifice." This is India. High on hi-tech. Low on liberty. A woman's liberty, to choose. To decide. To reject. |
