I was the youngest daughter of a strict father who looked for lot of discipline and values in his children. Not everyone in the family could talk to him openly but I, being the youngest of all, could dare to atleast speak my mind in front of him. This does not mean that I did not respect him. Babuji was very clear in his mind about the acceptable and not-acceptable behaviour at home. He was the decision-maker, and it was not easy to convince him for anything that he did not approve of.
After my graduation, it was time for enrolling for my Masters. Any level of education or preparation for a competitive exam was fine in the family till it was to be pursued while staying at home. ‘Education first’ was the principle followed and that is why no burden of household chores was on the girls or daughters-in-law of the family (but our mother, on the other hand, ensured that her girls knew all that a good homemaker should know). The only unimaginable thing, in the family was, “staying in a hostel”. I had secured good marks and had heard about career options after pursuing Master’s from Delhi University (DU). I did not dream of administrative services or banking like my other friends and my father’s aspiration for me. But Masters’ degree from DU was a new goal, very difficult to achieve.
A stubborn daughter allowed a chance:
I shared my wish with Babuji who outrightly rejected the request. I did not give up and continued to discuss with my teachers and other people who could influence him. The opinion of my uncles and elders in family was more important to Babuji than anyone else. I, on the other hand, just wanted a chance as admission in DU was not assured; it was dependent on clearing the entrance test followed by an interview. I, the youngest one, the stubborn one of all, wanting to get my request approved, cried and went to the extent of saying, “Once I get a job, I will return all the money that you spend on my education”. I can still remember Babuji’s words, “That day will never come when your father will have to take favours from his children”. He was right, we never saw that day.
Finally, after all the efforts, words of an aunty, a relative who herself was a professor, convinced him not to deny this one chance to me. It was clearly understood that if I did not get selected, I would, like other girls of the family, continue my studies in Patna. We went to Delhi for entrance where some other friends of my college had also come. I was the only one who got selected, that too with 7th rank in the merit list. I immediately got the admission and hostel on priority. Before I left for hostel, Babuji gave me a diary in which on the last page he wrote a Sanskrit shloka, “काक चेष्टा, बको ध्यानं, स्वान निद्रा तथैव च; अल्पहारी, गृहत्यागी, विद्यार्थी पंच लक्षणं (Kak cheshta bako dhyanam, swan nidra tathaiv cha, alpahari, grihatyagi, vidyarthi pancha lakshanam) meaning, a scholar must have five traits—make efforts like a crow, focus on the work like a crane, take alert naps (sleep) like a dog, eat a bit less to avoid lethargy and stay away from comforts of home. I don’t know if I ever lived these words but the journey of my life has certainly brought me close to the ideals he used to teach.
The pain of being born a daughter
I completed my Masters, got a job in a reputed institution in Delhi but my earning was just enough for me to survive there. I could not think of sending any money home. Life was busy with its own twists and turns taking me to different places. Within two years, on a summer afternoon, I received the news of Babuji’s demise. I was away and I could reach home only the next day evening by train. By that time, the cremation was done, and I could not get to see Babuji for that “one last time”. It was perhaps for the first time in my life that I regretted being born as a daughter. Had I been a son, people would have waited till my arrival. Just because I was a daughter, a married daughter, it was acceptable to go ahead with the cremation without me.
I was shattered and all the memories of my arguments with Babuji were flashing in my mind. The most important one was, “that day would never come when Babuji will take anything from his children”. My tears could not wipe this pain of not being able to do anything for my self-respecting father, who allowed me the chance that was not common in our family in those days.
Hindu rituals become restrictive for the male member who does all the last rites. Taking on the responsibility on myself, I tried to do things and manage minor expenses at home during this phase but spending by a married daughter was not acceptable in our family. The rituals were completed and after two weeks it was time to return. With the pain of being orphaned all of us were to part ways to our own worlds. That time my brother came with a cheque, to repay all that I had spent on the funeral. This was the second time in my life that I regretted being born as a daughter. I cried and was more hurt seeing the burden that the society had put on my brother. He was orphaned himself but was willing to pay back to the sister who was no more a family member as per the norms of a patriarchal society. We hugged, we cried and I did not take the cheque but the norms of the society continue to be the same.
I couldn’t do anything for Babuji, but I know that had he been around, he would have been proud of me. Over the years, our sibling bonding grew stronger and I tried to became a pillar of strength for my siblings and our mother. I felt honoured the day my brother introduced me to someone saying, “She’s not my sister, she’s my brother.” But deep inside, I wished that I actually wasn’t born as a daughter of the family. Being a son would have legitimised the responsibility and the ownership that I always felt towards my family.
Reflections:
Girls in our society are brought up to be married off and sent to another family. Even in families where their education is a priority, their careers are still not as important as the careers of the boys who’re nurtured to be the breadwinners of the family. The girls are neither taught to take the responsibility of their parents nor are they expected to do so ever in their lives. Taking money from a married daughter is taken as a sin and the same from a son is a right. For cremation, we need sons and we wait for their arrival as long as possible but when its about waiting for the married daughters, there is no compulsion.
This Mayankita still carries the pain of being born a daughter; had she been a son, she could have seen her father once. She carries the guilt that in her father’s life she was neither expected to support him nor was she able to do anything for him. Even after his death, in whatever little way she was able to do things, it was not acceptable to the society. She has often felt being paid back in cash or kind by the mother for anything she tries to do for her.
Times have changed, there is a lot more that needs to be changed. Why isn’t being a sister same as being a brother, not just in rights but also in responsibilities? I wish all the daughters in our society are taught to take responsibility of their parents and siblings, not as a favour or as an alternative to the failures of the sons in taking the responsibilities but as their own responsibility. Why should the pressure of being a good son, a good brother always be on the boys? Now that the daughters get equal opportunity to study, to make successful careers, equal property rights, they too should take responsibilities equally. That would also be a step towards gender equality. No Mayankita should ever feel, “Agle janam mohe bitiya na keejo”.