Today my mother went visiting her old aunts and uncles. I want to write about one of these couples. The grand uncle is 98 years old. The grand aunt, 90 or thereabouts. Weak, shriveled, their memories fading, disease-ridden, almost immobile and wheelchair bound, the couple is still very special to us.
They belong two generations back. Their life speaks of a time that has gone by, a lifestyle that just lives in the fading memories of a handful of old-timers. In a few years, these memories too will be completely lost. A generation would have passed on, taking with them, a whole culture, a lifestyle, and a value system. A culture we cannot afford to forget. Let me explain.
This grand old couple got married all of 80 years back. He was 12 then, she, eight.
They belonged to a generation that believed in getting their children married even before they matured, physically or mentally. I don’t want to argue the merits and demerits of the child marriage system. Much has been written about it. I have no new thought or fact to contribute. But evil or wrong as it might have been, the child marriage system in the hands of a few wise and benign people, did lay (and strengthen) the foundation of our family values. It moulded that living entity that we proudly call the Indian family.
I remember my grand aunt fondly recollecting those by-gone days. ‘Our marriage was a five-day affair,” she said, and the thought made my head swim. “We were children, playing together and with other children around us. We had to be dragged to the stage for the various functions!”
In keeping with the tradition of her times, she went back to her parents’ house after her wedding, awaiting the onset of puberty and an auspicious time to be ceremonially sent to her marital home. Her father-in-law, a distant relative, would drop in every month.
“I would run to hug him when I saw him at the gate,” she laughed as she recounted. “He would stoop and pick me up in his arms. I would sit only in his lap. I was too young to know how a daughter-in-law should treat her a father-in-law.”
The spontaneous love of a child-bride and the magnanimous and wise response of her in-laws set the tone for a loving relationship where family developed as the fulcrum around which life revolved.
Later in life, it was her father-in-law whom she credits with having put her through school. “He insisted that I appear for my SSLC examination,” she said one day. “Very few women did so those days. I was the mother of a child then.”
“I spent just ten or twelve years of my life with my parents,” reminisced grandaunt on another occasion. “And the rest of it in my marital home. Naturally, I was more attached to my marital home than even to my parental home. I knew the traditions and tastes of my marital home better. I cooked more like my mother-in-law than like my mother.”
The distinction between the two homes and the two cultures had blurred, making it easy for the child bride to adapt and adjust to a new way of life, accept it as hers, and build strong bonds. Did she mind? She does not seem to mind. “I could see no difference,” she said simply. “I was happy.”
Simple yet profound. When you accept something as your own, all differences cease to matter. She seemed to say that giving up and accepting, acceding and conforming were not signs of weakness. Nor did one lose stature, dignity or personality by following this path. It put her on a pedestal and gave her a stature and dignity that came very naturally – a stature that only givers can hope to attain, and not possessors.
So did she lose herself, her personhood, her very special identity – did she give up her rights and sacrifice her desires? Not more, not less than other women today. In spite of her all-consuming commitments and responsibilities, grandaunt did lead a full life, studying, socializing, developing her creative talents in crafts and arts of many kinds, and holding her own in her household and society. She learnt languages, did embroidery and handicrafts of different kinds, painted, cooked, read newspapers, wrote stories, translated literature, sang and composed songs, played with children, planned memorable holidays and picnics, threw herself with great enthusiasm into celebrations of all kinds, and readily taught others all that she knew.
A woman whose wisdom and affection drew all to her, who was much sought after, whose presence at a gathering added life and spark to it. A woman whose multiple skills and whose multidimensional personality shone distinctly and uniquely all the time. A woman who did not stint herself, did not shy away from her commitments, who did not hesitate to lose herself in her family, and yet found time and energy to explore her values, adopt new ways of thinking and stretch herself to see how far she could go. A woman who is living proof that by giving and accepting one does not lose, but only gain. That it is possible to be oneself and be recognized for what one stands, and yet be wholly committed to one’s family. That the two are not mutually exclusive.
At a time when women deliberately limit their commitments, hold back from responsibilities, define the boundaries of their relationships, keep themselves distant and not give of themselves wholly, grand aunt’s life is a reassurance that security and confidence come from within, that strength and support come from within, that you can be yourself and lose yourself at the same time.
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