BHARATA BHARATI

In our badly socialised society, women, even if they bundle up and shut up, are legitimate prey for men of all ages. – Renuka Narayanan

Like many of you, I was taken aback by the shameful, unwarranted putdowns of Colonel Sofiya Qureshi and Himanshi Narwal, one, a valiant soldier whose great-great-grandmother fought alongside Rani Lakshmi Bai, the other bravely transcending her devastating personal loss to urge peace and clarity.

I got to thinking about the possible root cause, and the only answer I could come up with was the patriarchy’s fundamental lack of respect for women. Don’t get me wrong. I am proud of Hindu reform, entirely thanks to which I stand upright as its legatee. I love my religion and culture, well, most of it. But, as with every system, it has its dark sides that lash out even today, and I feel we must acknowledge and address that if we wish to walk the path of light.

In our badly socialised society, women, even if they bundle up and shut up, are legitimate prey for men of all ages. In this nowhere land between myth and reality, a curious folk tale from Tehri Garhwal in Uttarakhand comes to mind.

It’s a local story about why turmeric is ‘holy’. We know that Western science has empirically proven what we knew long ago, that turmeric has many health benefits. I don’t relate to turmeric latte, though; it’s too medicinal for me. Like others, I’ve grown up being dosed on the centuries-old Indian home remedy for cough, cold and congestion: a cup of warm milk with turmeric and black peppercorns, honey added to make it tolerable, drunk last thing at night so it can take its proper healing effect while you sleep, which means no staying up watching Netflix.

While it’s been proven that turmeric has many healing properties, this folk tale about its ‘holiness’ is a complicated frappé of health, religion and culture. It valorises the super-healer rhizome, which is fine. But it openly supports the male right to roam by making the hero a god. Thereby, its message is “boys will be boys”: after all, boys are gods on earth. It’s an easy excuse that I heard even my father make indulgently every time my brother crossed the line.

The tale goes that there was once a very pretty girl called Kusumba Kohli. Narayan—Vishnu, no less—fell in love with her and tricked her into meeting him. However, Kusumba’s husband, Kaindhu Kohli, found out and chased after Narayan. Kaindhu was a sturdy, determined young man, and Narayan had to run very fast. He hid, panting, in a patch of colocasia (arbi) that grew overground those days, but its broad leaves shook in fright, and Narayan’s hiding place was discovered.

“You failed me; may you grow underground hereafter,” said Narayan to the arbi, and ran next to hide behind a banana tree. But the slender banana tree could not hide Narayan. “May you bear fruit but once a year, on just one stem,” scolded Narayan and ran to hide behind some rocks.

A dog snoozing there was startled and began barking, and Narayan had to run again. “You’re not a bad creature, but stones will come your way for talking too much,” said Narayan crossly as he scurried away. Kaindhu was gaining ground, and Narayan was growing desperate.

He ran around the hill and threw himself into a leafy patch of wild turmeric. The long leaves closed gently over him and stayed still as Kaindhu went pounding by.

When it was safe to emerge, Narayan blessed the turmeric. “You shall have a place of honour at every wedding and auspicious event. No happy ceremony can take place without you,” he said. Isn’t it extraordinary how innocent plants and animals were co-opted to legitimise the uncontrolled behaviour and emotional incontinence of the male of our species?

So, there is no denying that women in Indian culture occupy an ambivalent position. In the traditional Indian mindset, the Devi, or prime goddess of Hindu theology, is enthroned on a pedestal to be worshipped as the sacred feminine. The position of Devi or Shakti is thus greatly exalted. She is worshipped as the Parashakti, or Supreme Power, as the Jagadamba, the Universal Mother who created the male gods and their feminine counterparts.

How does this translate vis-a-vis the situation of mortal women? In reality, Indian tradition discounts mortal women unless they deliver the goods in their prescribed role in the service sector. In particular, the position of the respectably married woman is supreme in Hindu society. As in any other transactional relationship, this status comes at a price.

This ‘pragmatic’ attitude towards women springs from the false Hindu belief that only a son can save a man from hell called put: hence the term putra for son—the “deliverer from put“. A wife was the socially endorsed conduit for this outcome, of no use unless she produced a healthy son. Indian patriarchs mostly did not see wives as precious individuals. Any eligible woman from the caste pool would do to keep their life going.

Of course, there were rebels and breakaways, but this has been the holding pattern for millennia in both deeply conservative and superficially modern swathes of society. This entrenched attitude still plays out in millions of ordinary Indian lives despite the number of educated women in many spheres of national life, the result of steady Hindu reform. Something to think about, isn’t it, when even morally decent women can be called “the sister of terrorists” and a “traitor” with such casual disrespect? – The New Indian Express, 26 May 2025

› Renuka Narayanan is an author and senior journalist in Chennai.