Story covers over half a lifetime (the average being 76 years) of painting my canvas in many hues of red, few delegated; few desired…
The bill in pipeline that promises to reform the future of women in India:
If the current bill proposed by Government of India is passed in parliament and the legally permissible age of marriage for girls be raised to 21, members of Gen Z and Gen Alpha could officially dub me as a child bride and early youngling mother. The last time it was raised to the chronological landmark of 18 from 15 was the year I was born. This upward trend notwithstanding, should not a legal adult with a say in deciding their country’s future, have a say in deciding their own future at 18? Incidentally, the Law Commission, a while back, had recommended lowering the minimum legal age of marriage for men from 21 to 18 years.
Shockingly, as per our recent National Family Health Survey (2019-2021), 1/4th of the women between 20-24 years were married even before attaining majority. Is 21 then a lofty standard to seek?
However, the current proposed reform is being touted as a momentous step that would usher in greater gender equality, protect the basic rights of young women and help expand their academic as well as professional prospects.
Billing the past that shaped my present with promises for the future:
Providence had me meet my future husband at a tender age, love blossomed shortly, families got along famously, horoscopes matched perfectly, there I was married at 19 something, a mother at 21 something and very much a college-going student, to fill the bio.
On another note, my fascination and association with red began early in life-curtains of the room I shared with my baby sister were a crimson-red and had alphabets and animal figures strewn in green; my over-shampooed half-bald dolls mostly sported bright, cherry red attires; I loved wearing mom’s big red bindi (cosmetic sticker) on my tiny forehead; fancied decking up in red bridal wear for fancy dress in school and began menstruating and squirming with unspoken period issues earlier than most (Red Pride nota thing back then).
Embracing Sankha-Sindura & the works…
It is not surprising therefore that the universe must have conspired to get me the most auspicious and conspicuous red for my Adonis, early- on in life, namely, Sankha (red bangles) and Sindura (red vermilion worn on forehead); symbolic artifacts adorned 24/7 by married Odia women. The Adonis bore no such signs of being taken except for a finger ring which could be conveniently gloved if you are a doctor! Not that he did so!
As per mythological lore, Hanuman curiously asked Sita why she applied vermilion on to her forehead to which Sita replied that it was for the long life of Lord Rama. Inspiration struck and Hanuman smeared his entire body in vermilion- oil paste for Lord Rama’s long-life. This avatar of his is ardently worshipped by devotees. Yet another episodic reiteration of how wearing (thankfully not smearing) vermilion was made synonymous with a wife’s devotion and husband’s eternal life. I am not entirely sure I had Sita Mata’s reasons, Hanumanji’s blind devotion or Maa Sabitri’s resolution in mind while applying a sliver of the stick vermilion sincerely each morning. It could have been, long live my husband as much as a routine ritual like brushing teeth!
Maa Sabitri snatched and restored her husband’s life from the clutches of Yamaraja (God of death) with her devotion and wit. I cannot outwit my smart-ass apso, let alone Yama but could devote myself to an eternity of wearing a clutch of red bangles! Did I mention that a daily recipe of red kosala saga (leafy vegetables) and the occasional alta (red dye applied to the feet of women) were also a part of my new red brigade! As per new household dictum, red zones (beauty salons and bar- cum-restaurants) were vividly outlined. Bushy eyebrows were not raised, even as I had begun looking like a cave-woman on my first anniversary.
Many lores of Sita, Sabitri and next-door neighbour’s dutiful daughter in law as a law-abiding citizen of the acquired household are narrated, particularly to young, impressionable new brides by the MIL & Co to have them make peace with an unending list of daily, weekly, fortnightly and yearly rituals to be practised, once they have earned their right to Sankha- Sindura.
The red bangles on me were possibly the most constantly unsterile objects that broke more often than the teeth being pulled out from the patient’s mouth. As traditions get bent like orthodontic wires for adaptation to specific environment and topography, I swapped multiple glass bangles for one thick, 4 in 1 bangle in each hand which could be raked way up on the forearm under the gown sleeves, while my hands toiled in saliva and blood. The salon debeauté too transformed to a green zone eventually. I relished the rationality in changing unsterile red bangles for new ones each year as much as the rich and delicious sago fast food on Sabitri brata (annual day of fast and religious rituals kept for long life of the husband) and observed the day like a devout Odiani.
“When light travels from rarer to denser medium, they bend towards normal”. This law of physics applied to my physical world; as the density of my tightly packed, marital joint-ed family medium bent me towards normalizing the lack of any privacy or preferences. Harbouring a nursing home and residence in one establishment created a busy harbour zone for every lost, found and wounded soul.
The real ‘Red Deal’ however that was to pave way for my liberation from the shackles of fear and frailty was the larger than life, sculpted clay idol of Maa Durga; a vision in red; in her fiery red saree, red bindi, red bangles, alta on her 10 weapon wielding hands and feet to the red draining from Mahisasura (buffalo-demon) where her trident struck him. This red form is the image that has stayed in my mind to afford me strength from time to time. We eagerly await an entire year to roll out the red carpet on Durga Puja and welcome Maa Durga to grace our pandal. My husband’s household is intimately associated with the 10-day rituals and ceremonies observed in her honour. I am indebted to my Sankha-Sindura for this divine opportunity that has slowly and steadily infused Maa Durga’s essence in my life.
Speaking of red, more came my way when the umbilical cord was cut. A very red-looking mother having borne a 12- hour hysterical labour pain delivered a red cherub that had wriggled through the birth canal (both red from the labour struggles). Despite the unbridled joy of seeing my flesh and blood right in front, I vowed in mind to hereafter keep the fiery red of passion safely in leash. Following the earth-born’s delivery, I was wriggling to deliver my best in the final exam series that commenced the very next day. Red was also the colour that rushed to my cheeks as I scrambled to hide the new nursing mother’s clothing snitch!
In the prime time of almost 18 years, it takes to raise a child; this mother like gazillion others did all sorts of red- from panicky red over the earthling’s common childhood maladies to red with pride when the colour of her drummer son’s passion matched the coral red of his drum kit.
With Sankha-Sindura in my quiver, I had the toughest ammo that aided in winning many of life’s battles. What seemed to consume my identity entirely became loyal allies that consolidated my identity.
Embracing a lager ME…
I kept expanding on many horizons- professional, parenting and physical; while some desirable, few, a sad consequence of self-neglect. While self-confidence was hitting rock bottom, stress levels were high- flying helium balloons ready to pop. The Adonis set me on a journey of slow physical transformation, oblivious to eyebrows raising and tongues wagging about yoga pants and priorities. Oblivious to an asthma condition, this lager (cooler) version also ran her first 10K, one among many, in a sea of red- Tee- sporting marathoners. Burning body fat and churning desires were rightfully on top of the revised menu. The son’s love for brownies and red velvet flamed a long-standing desire to bake and boy! Bake I did!
The Adonis improvised the menu further by literally offering a red-dy solution. Sangria proffered divine bliss. It was humbling to know that liquor signified powerful emotion and was offered to a divine Goddess before being consumed as Prasad (food offering to a deity) by the worshippers. The quantum of my consumption was a wee bit more than the prasad offering but I allowed the so-called powerful emotion to occasionally sweep through me.
All the reds comfortably co-exist as my fascination and association with the same indeed continues………My next red? Well, let us see. Something sacred in the holy month of Shravan or sassy like a date-night with the Adonis in a “not so polite” bold-red outfit or even simple like crossing the Red Sea!
Conclusion:
Like countless women, I behold a past stridden with early responsibilities that may have directed the course of my life. I also behold a past that gave me the unconditional support of two families and built me early on, for life.
It is true what they say about making the best of the cards we are dealt with. But it is great to be able to choose some of those cards, all the same. If the laws of the land offer that choice, it marks progress! Each to their own. To marry or not to marry is perhaps not the question! Nonetheless, cheers to both 18 and 21 with a glass of sangria!
The writer is an Associate Professor in Oral and Maxillofacial Pathology, SCB Dental College & Hospital, Cuttack, and regularly posts write-ups on Rachnacreates.com.
(Disclaimer- As much as a semi-autobiographical narrative, the light-hearted content also reflects solely the author’s personal opinions.)
