Tag: Vibha Shetiya

I Am Queen by Vibha Shetiya

VibahI started this post just after getting back from an India trip, always very challenging because of memories that haunt me not only through their high negative recall value, but also in that I often find myself reverting to the diffident, fearful person I used to be while living there. In fact, palpitation is the first to greet me at Bombay airport even now after nearly seventeen years of being an expat. But with every trip, I also find myself evolving as a person, as a woman. And of course, it is always fun to meet up with family and old friends, all of whom I hold very dear. But the highlight of this trip was Queen.

Queen is a Bollywood movie unlike any other I’ve seen. As mentioned in a previous post, B-wood cinema if you can call it that, is made mostly of predictable, formulaic themes centering on impossible flights of fancy, not-so-subtle patriarchy, and gendered stereotypes. The good news is that in recent years, film makers have been trying to push boundaries in their own small ways, no doubt a laudable attempt in an industry where success still depends on mass consumption; box office success over critical acclaim. Queen, however, stands out in its portrayal of the protagonist Rani Mehra, a middle class young lady from Delhi (“rani” is “queen” in Hindi). Even more remarkable is that it portrays Rani’s female friends – “scantily” dressed women and prostitutes – without judgment, as human beings who are far from detrimental to Rani or the plot. Continue reading “I Am Queen by Vibha Shetiya”

Was Mother Kalawati a Feminist? (Part 2) by Vibha Shetiya

VibahContinued from Part 1.

After leaving her home and her children in order to take refuge with her guru, in no time, Rukmabai won over hearts. Her guru, Siddharood Swami “with his divine sight” discerned that Rukmabai was no ordinary being. In fact, just before his death, upon realizing that his principle disciple had attained moksha (liberation from the cycle of death and rebirth), he left to her his mission of guiding others to salvation, directing his followers to now address her as Mother Kalawati.

And so it came to be that at the tender age of twenty-one, Rukmabai had a large following herself, and as an intense devotee of Krishna, she almost became synonymous with the god. As many like to point out, she had already internalized the attitude of non-attachment, whether towards individuals, possessions or food or drink; she was already enlightened.

Her disciples were both male and female, although she dedicated herself to the well-being of women. But while directing minds towards god, Kalawati Aai – a high class and high caste woman – also dedicated herself to uplifting the poor and backward Bohari community of Belgaum, Karnataka. It is said that the men used to wile away their time drinking and gambling leaving the womenfolk to run the household. Because of Kalawati Aai’s intervention, some order was brought to their lives; the men stopped drinking, which in turn put an end to the physical abuse they had heaped upon their wives, as well as the neglect their children had faced, who earlier had no choice but to turn to vagrancy. Stability in the homes through prayer and piety – in other words channeling their minds away from vice and towards god – in turn saw not just an economic change but also a change in the lives of these women and children, for the better.

But – and this is interesting – her message to women was not one of directing energy towards god in search of inner peace or salvation, but towards the family, of being a virtuous wife and mother. In fact, she urged women to put aside “just one hour a day of your life to the service of god”; the rest of the time should be aimed towards serving the family. And her advice to women unhappy on account of their domestic life would always be to look deep within themselves to remedy the situation, rather than to blame their husbands. Moreover, at no point should a woman ever neglect her duties towards family on account of her own well-being for that would be tantamount to selfishness. I find this most interesting because she herself broke norms in order to serve a personal calling. Continue reading “Was Mother Kalawati a Feminist? (Part 2) by Vibha Shetiya”

Was Mother Kalawati a Feminist? (Part 1) by Vibha Shetiya

VibahI recently assigned my students an article by Kathleen Erndl – “Is Shakti Empowering for Women? Reflections on Feminism and the Hindu Goddess.”[1] I’m sure, like Erndl, many have been fascinated by this question, especially within the Indian context. Does the presence of an abundance of goddesses necessarily translate to social empowerment for women? The answer is indeed complicated in that one cannot reify all goddess worshippers under one static rubric.

Having said that, however, I would like to posit that generally speaking, it would be fair to say Indian culture is a patriarchal one, and that the presence of a goddess tradition does not translate to independence for women. Firstly, the kind of goddesses worshipped by both men and women, are not necessarily the assertive, independent kind. They are often those such as Lakshmi and Saraswati who are maternal and nurturing, and important in their own right. All too often, however, these virtuous traits have been used to disempower women, to keep them in their “socially assigned places.”

There is evidence from early Hindu literature that the above goddesses may initially have been independent forces, but they soon came to be tamed as consorts of male gods; Lakshmi as Vishnu’s wife, and Saraswati as Brahma’s. Second, fierce and independent goddesses such as Kali and Durga may have a large following, but it is only in certain cases such as in Tantric theology specific to the goddess Shakti, identified with Kali, that ritual practices may do away with gender roles, that both male and female members have equal access to Kali. But the important question would be – outside of the ritual context, how do practitioners of Tantra regard women? In other words, do women have equal social – and not merely equal ritual – status? I am not an expert in Tantric discourse, but judging by various commentaries, I have reason to believe that this does not necessarily translate to gender equality in the social setting.

My quest here, however, is to provide an example of what a community with a strong, female leader may look like. I thought of this example because I have been intrigued with and fascinated by my own family experience regarding the cult of Kalawati Aai or Mother Kalawati (I do not use the term “cult” derogatorily as “a group with a powerful and controlling leader” but in the classical sense of “practices centering on an object of reverence”). My aim is to provide a picture of often conflicting ideals within the Hindu setting, to shed light on how this can play out on the ground. My information on Kalawati Aai – considered a saint by her devotees – comes from hearsay and hagiographical accounts for I never met her; she died almost forty years ago.[2]

Continue reading “Was Mother Kalawati a Feminist? (Part 1) by Vibha Shetiya”

Epic Drama and Epic Confusion, Courtesy of Bollywood by Vibha Shetiya

VibaI love Bollywood. The colors, the over-the-top drama, the singing and dancing, the suspension of reality for three hours…I see how it can provide a break from the challenges of everyday life for over 700 million Indians living below the poverty line (and then some). But Bollywood movies also have a frightening side to them. On one hand they transport the viewer to la-la land; on the other, this very fantasy world has the power to set social norms. And yes, it becomes confusing – no kissing, no nudity, yet vulgarity is on full display when camera angles capture the fully dressed heroine’s chest heaving to pulsating music, while she is soaked to the skin in pouring rain, dressed in white, mind you. Sometimes there is no need for the rains. Katrina Kaif’s Chikni Chameli “item” number will attest to this.

But let us move away from the “purely entertaining” angle and return to the idea that Bollywood not only reinforces cultural stereotypes but also has the potential to influence behavior that governs everyday attitudes.

I recently (re)watched Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge (And the Truelove Will Carry Away the Bride) with an American friend. DDLJ (1995) as it is fondly called is one of India’s all-time beloved movies. So much so that soon after taking office in 2014, the Indian Prime Minister, Narendra Modi declared it a show-case of Indian tradition. I can see how it touches a patriotic chord: the story centers on an Indian family living in Britain, but still “Indian at heart.” Well, the father decides that his daughters born and raised in London are Indian at heart. Of course things go terribly wrong when the older girl, Simran, falls in love with someone dad doesn’t approve of. Raj is Indian, but not a bona fide one in that he has adapted to “the shameless and derelict ways of Westerners.” The family packs their bags and moves back to India where Simran is to be immediately married off to the father’s jigri dost’s (dear friend’s) son, Kuljit. Now as one can imagine, when the film in question is a Bollywood one, this is not drama enough. There’s plenty more to come. But I’ll leave it to you to decide how much drama is drama enough… Continue reading “Epic Drama and Epic Confusion, Courtesy of Bollywood by Vibha Shetiya”

Translating the Self by Vibha Shetiya

VibaOne of my favourite tasks is translating works from various Indian languages into English. I developed a love for this while enrolled in a graduate seminar on translation theory. The challenge of it all was mind-boggling – how do I reduce the jaggedness of despair running within the depths of someone’s soul into two-dimensional, Times New Roman, 12-point font? How do I convey an intangible phenomenon such as a believer’s union with god without losing the intensity of his or her experience? I loved the exercises, but it is only now I realize how much the concept of translation had also been intertwined with my own fiber of being.

When I lived in India and for many years afterwards, I went by Vib-ha, the usual pronunciation of my Indian name. I didn’t realize then that I didn’t identify with Vibha. A few years ago, I reverted to the Vee-bah of my childhood, the Anglicized pronunciation. It wasn’t so much as being picky, as it was about getting involved in the search for who I really was.

Growing up in an English environment since not quite the age of two, I automatically internalized the label of Vee-bah that my teachers and friends addressed me by, along with developing a “foreign” set of ideals and sense of self. “I’m Veebah,” would be a natural extension of myself; without thinking I had adjusted the complexities of being a little brown girl into one neat word: Veebah.

But by the sixth grade something wonderful was happening. I began to literally feel more comfortable in my skin – I no longer felt like I had to hide my Indian snacks from the rest of the class. I no longer felt I had to apologize for looking different or having a weird sounding, albeit Anglicized, name. And by the time I turned twelve, my changing mind and body soon began to embrace Veebah. It was like I had finally begun to own Veebah.

A year later, however, I moved to India, the land of my birth. My parents had come back “home,” but I had just acquired newly found status of “alien.” Could years of growing up abroad simply be undone by a one-way ticket and an unsigned contract between my father and Zamefa Pvt Ltd.? It got worse as time progressed. There were too many things to deal with. I sounded different; my ideas about music and movies were different; I was too outspoken; I looked much older than I was, and worst of all, I had a certain precociousness about me when it came to the birds and the bees. By the time I was fifteen, however, I managed to figure it all out. With a bit of help from others, I smoothened myself, rough edges, “over-smartness” and all into a two-dimensional being who, in turn, was soon transformed into an echo of everyone around her. An echo called Vib-ha. I was now in India, and had to go by Vib-ha, was what I told myself. With that label, I found myself pushing Veebah more and more into the background; I smothered her with my Indian sounding name and all the Indianness I thought ought to go with it. Continue reading “Translating the Self by Vibha Shetiya”

Sita Sings the Blues. Literally. by Vibha Shetiya

VibaOne of the most exciting times of the semester occurs when we watch “Sita Sings the Blues” in class. This film by Nina Paley – one she has made available to the public by withholding copyright – is a wonderful addition to what has come to be known as the Ramayana tradition. Unlike a few decades ago when scholarship focused on only pan-Indian literary Ramayanas, scholars today are beginning to acknowledge that most people get to know of Rama and Sita through folk and oral tales, women’s songs and local and regional tellings.

But the thing about “Sita Sings the Blues” that struck me most was how, in 81 short minutes Paley masterfully reflects the complexity of the tradition; the Ramayana in its various forms has been questioned, adapted, revered and challenged by commentators and devotees alike in the two millennia it has traveled across space and time, from north India to Bali to New York. But what scholarship has elaborated over three decades and endless research, Paley has managed to show in less than two hours.

The Ramayana as my last post explained acts as a blue print for daily living for millions of Hindus worldwide. There are various problematic episodes in the epic, one of the most controversial being Rama’s unceremonious treatment of his own wife, the ever loyal and faithful Sita. Paley like so many others who have joined the debate over Sita’s treatment – one that began in antiquity – gives Sita a voice of her own when she ingeniously has the tragic heroine of the Ramayana singing to Annette Hanshaw’s songs; Hanshaw was an American jazz singer whose success soared in the 1920s and 30s. Throughout the film, her melancholic voice reminds us of the universality of the story, one of a woman scorned by the man she loved. Paley herself could feel Sita’s pain, for amid the various layers of the film, is woven her own experience of love and betrayal. But Paley is present throughout the story in another way – the animation, design and editing is entirely hers. Continue reading “Sita Sings the Blues. Literally. by Vibha Shetiya”

And Then There Was Sita by Vibha Shetiya

VibaWe have been hearing a lot about Kali and Durga lately, manifestations of the great goddess (“Kali Ma,” by Jassy Watson, July 3; “What Would Durga Do?” by Barbara Ardinger, August 2). Nancy Vedder-Shults’ three-part series on Kali (August-October, 2014) too helped shed light on an often misunderstood deity. Both Kali and Durga personify the power or shakti within women, a force that can be empowering and terrifying at once. Kali represents uncontrolled female energy, whereas Durga is portrayed as one in control of her abundant power. These images, especially the one of Kali are double-edged; they can prove problematic for women insofar as – from the male perspective – they confirm the fact that women possess an alarming energy, especially a sexual one, which in turn justifies the need for men to subdue them.

Sita's abduction by Ravana. Artist: Raja Ravi Verma
Sita’s abduction by Ravana. Artist: Raja Ravi Verma

Within this context, I would like to talk about Sita, who, one could argue, is the antithesis of the two. Sita is the gentle wife of Lord Rama, hero of the Ramayana, a two-thousand year old Sanskrit epic. In the Ramayana, Rama, the crown-prince of Ayodhya, is exiled to the forest for fourteen years. His loyal and faithful wife, the princess and goddess Sita, insists on accompanying him to the wilderness. There, the demon king, Ravana kidnaps her leading to a battle between Rama and Ravana. Almost a year and thousands of casualties later, Rama succeeds in slaying Ravana and reclaiming Sita.

But alas, Rama rejects his wife in the presence of the hundreds of onlookers, eagerly awaiting the reunion of the couple, on the grounds that her chastity was suspect; after all, says Rama, surely Ravana couldn’t have resisted her ravishing beauty? If she is to be worthy of Rama, Sita has to undergo a trial by fire to prove that she had indeed remained chaste throughout her captivity. Although she passes with flying colors, Rama eventually gives in to gossip and banishes her to the wilderness a few years later – while she is pregnant with his twins – where she is left to die (she, however, does not). Continue reading “And Then There Was Sita by Vibha Shetiya”

The Guessing Game by Vibha Shetiya

VibaMy husband, who is American, first introduced me to the word “negging.” Although I hadn’t come across it before setting foot in America, I soon came to realize it was a concept that knew few cultural bounds. The Urban Dictionary (UD) defines negging as “[when] you use remarks to tap into female insecurity; shake their confidence…neg is a negative remark wrapped in a back-handed compliment.” In the West, as I have learned, negging tends to target a woman’s physical attributes, often as a pick up line. Thus, as the UD again illustrates: “You are nearly as tall as me. I like tall girls (LIFT). Are those heels 4 or 5 inches (DROP)?”[1]

I’m from India and thought I’d provide an example of negging to illustrate its varied and glorious forms. Back when I was growing up, dating wasn’t socially acceptable in my culture – it often had to be done on the sly which probably explains why negging as a pick up line wasn’t the smartest choice. But we South Asians had and continue to have our own cultural equivalents of underhand methods specifically designed to erode a woman’s sense of self.   Continue reading “The Guessing Game by Vibha Shetiya”

Four Days of Bliss (or How I used The System to beat The System) by Vibha Shetiya

Vidha SI’m not particularly fond of my periods – they’re painful, full of cramps. But they are a part of who I am, and I’m not going to apologize for them. We women, especially those of us belonging to the sub-continent, have been shamed or embarrassed into silence, while being reminded that motherhood is the most exalted position a woman could ever hope for. I mean, isn’t that paradoxical – if it weren’t for the bloody nemesis (pardon the pun), we would never get to experience motherhood.

I grew up in a Western environment (in southern Africa) where “period” wasn’t necessarily synonymous with repulsion. But when I moved to India, the land of my birth, soon after my “life-altering” experience, things began to look different. I came to realize that I ought not to be like the neighbour girl who was so besharam, or shameless, that she insisted on announcing her monthly ignominy to the world by refusing to conceal the fact that she had indeed been at the pharmacist’s to buy sanitary pads. Why, the pack of pads, sealed in newspaper and carried in a little black plastic bag was right there for the entire world to see on her ten minute walk back home! I gradually came to understand that “those four days” were taboo – do not speak of “it,” do not make it obvious even if you are writhing in unbearable pain, do not contaminate sacred space with your womanly profanity. Continue reading “Four Days of Bliss (or How I used The System to beat The System) by Vibha Shetiya”