Hazaaron Rekha Jaisi

It was not a new dress, but a good one that I had reserved especially for this day. With a little more care than every other day, I got dressed, packed my bag and rechecked myself in the mirror one extra time before dashing out into the sunny and pleasant morning. Beermati ji, a housekeeping staff had arrived sharp at 8.30am as was usual and was fetching a pail of water to wash the porch in the campus. "Ram! Ram!" she greeted with a smile, one quick look at her and I knew what was coming ahead. She was dressed in fine clothes, and even before I complimented her, she blushed. Bina ji, 56 years old, was already raking up the fallen leaves in the front yard. Constantly pushing back her new pink dupatta even as she continued with her work. She looked up and smiled, a different smile, the smile a lady usually reserves to accompany any good news. Uday Singh and Ram Karan ji, the cook and the caretaker had a grin plastered on their faces looking at how the women on the team were "different" that day. The air was indeed jubilant even before the "Day" had started.  Revati ji, the 70 year old sweeper, was adding "thumkas" to her step and with a brand new attitude she nearly shouted, "Yash ji Mahila Diwas ki Mubarak!"

Revatiji, chirpy, young and dynamic, dropping a "thumka" right in the morning!

  It was on March 8, 1909 that the Socialist Party of America decided to celebrate that day as "Women's Day". Soon Germany followed in 1910 and then by 1911 over a million people from Austria, Denmark, Switzerland had joined Germany's chorus in declaring March 8th as International Women's Day. In the following years many countries followed suit and the day was marked by mainly political demonstrations. The people demanded that women be given the right to vote and hold office, some others protested against sex-based discrimination in employment. Soon the trend became popular and gained socio-cultural and commercial significance. And as most of us know it now, it is but a weird mash-up of Valentine's Day and Mother's Day, an all-out attempt to celebrate, respect and love women. Till last year, confined to the urban environment only, I saw it simply as a commercial gimmick for greeting card companies and another day for all activists to cry shrill about how women need to be empowered. March 8, 2013- 104 years after the first event- I saw a celebration, an uprising of sorts.

Like eager and well dressed invitees at a wedding, the crowd trickled in one after the other. All the flouroscents and jewelry reminded me of the Aam Sabha six months ago! It seemed like 2000 women were celebrating their birthdays. Their faces bore a glee and their chatter bore such enthusiasm, I expected sweet boxes to manifest anytime. This time however, I was not an alien Madrasi who had to be judged and whose presence had to be speculated upon. From October to March, I had made friends and now I was a part of their sisterhood, however weird or different from the native women. So right from their entrance to settling down to going on stage to perform, so many women stretched out their hand in greeting, tagging me along and introducing me to some of their other friends whom I had not met before. Others gave me updates about how the recent Gram Sabha went in their village, expectantly following it up with when next I would visit their sangathan, their homes, their villages. And when 10 women became a hundred and a hundred to two thousand, I knew that International Women's Day had truly dawned. It had arrived in a folksy, vibrant style at SCRIA's Khori Campus. The autumn morning of Aam Sabha had a parallel in the spring morning of Mahila Diwas. It was to be a festival, a congregation of women who truly deserved the break, the entertainment and as an old woman flashed her wrinkly fingers, the nail polish!

Dressed in the best attire and armed with a smile, women trooped in from tractors, tempos, trucks and buses for the Mahila Diwas celebrations.

Typically, most of these women wake up by 4 or 5 in the morning long before the sun rises and go about with their household chores. Soon the kids and the male members wake up and their needs for hot bath water, filling breakfast and timely assistance with getting ready become these women's only concerns. Once the men head to work and the children are off to school, they take care of the cattle, wash the shed, bathe the animals, feed them and milk them later. Other chores like doing the dishes, maintaining the house and laundry also fall on their heads. Before they stretch their legs, it is dinner time already and the day has already ended. Hardly these women get a break to go to the market or spend some leisure time with friends/family/neighbours. If she is working, has her own shop or does farming, it is a bigger ordeal. Any break from the routine means that an arrangement has to be made to take care of the men-folk, the children, the cattle and the fields and shops as the case maybe. The patriarchy is so suffocating and oppressive that they hardly demand a role-reversal and ask to be substituted at work. But that was not the case for these 2000 women. Not on 8th March. It was their day. They would celebrate. And how!

The Shakti Parishad members were the dignitaries on the dais. The post holders had the privilege of lighting the lamp and rendering the first chetna geet for the day. Shakti Parishad is SCRIA's autonomous and legally recognized wing that tackles cases of domestic violence in SCRIA's areas of outreach. These women take on the role of counsellors, advocate and a friend-in-need to the numerous village women of Rewari and Mohindergarh, who come crying and depressed. Some have their thumbs broken, some have their legs burnt, some get kicked out of their homes in the dead of the night and some others are married off before 18 years. Shakti Parishad is that council of SCRIA's sangathan representatives who have taken it upon themselves to fight for the rights of their sisters, of their sahelis. They sat on a dais and saw over the dances, dramas, and rendering of several inspirational songs one after the other. Nirmala from Chimnawas sang a true song about how "8 March" is their day and how the women of the world would come colourfully dressed to change the world. Santosh Devi sang against the evil culture of dowry and Bubli from Guravada put to tune a poem on how to treat a son and daughter as equals. The surprise package for the day were however, Manju, Bala Devi and Neelam, who all gave up their beautiful sarees to don the garb of drunken men and went on the stage to enact some alcohol-induced-antics. The crowd was in splits, laughing and cheering their small dance-song-drama message asking their men "daaru na peeve, sajjan mera maara hojayega". Men returning home in a drunken state and hitting their wives and daughters was a story that every woman had seen play out in her lane, if not in her very home. It was important that she stopped tolerating it and who better to put across that message than Rekha.

Shakti Parishad, Rewari District- women's group fighting against violence against women in Haryana

Rekha, from the village of Rasooli, is the treasurer of the Shakti Kosh. It is the fund of Shakti Parishad that is used to register and fight cases for the victims of domestic violence. All the sangathans contribute to the Shakti Kosh to whatever extent they can once every year and it is managed by the Treasurer of the Parishad. Rekha battles  every week for these women who have gone through injury and abuse. She camps outside the District Magistrate's office to ensure that these women are vindicated. The District Protection Officer expects Rekha to turn up almost every third day and register a case and see it through. Rekha is a dynamite in the traditional Haryanvi setting and she has stormed the offices of the high and mighty pleading and advocating women's rights. She has no special qualification, she has no legal background. A strong will to support her "sisters" and a basic knowledge of the Protection against Domestic Abuse Act gained from a 2 day workshop are her weapons. When, in between all the songs, dance and drama, she took the mike to address the gathering, her steely eyes commanded the respect and attention of 2000 other watching pairs. "We don't get respect anywhere", she started, "like our rights, we have to demand respect. That is the state of our homes and society." The crowd sat up perked. "What can a woman do if she is not safe within the walls of her home? How can we expect our daughters and sisters to bear any kind of abuse?" she demanded to know. With the same fire she added, "If it is not happening in your homes don't sit back indifferent, watch out for the women in your village." Rekha egged them on, "Fight and fight continuously. Raise a voice against violence, and fight with the rights that the constitution provides us." The crowd was grasping every word in complete silence looking awestruck at another woman, one like them, who was bellowing from the stage about freedom from violence. When Rekha thundered, "There is nothing to stop us!", the hands came together and applause poured like heavy rain on a tin roof. It took over 2 minutes to peter out. This was by far the most evocative and powerful speech that I had heard in ages. I saw and understood NARI SHAKTI.    

Rasooli's Wonder-woman & the Shakti of Shakti Parishad: Rekha making a point.

Some more song and drama followed, before unexpectedly I heard over the mike, my name being announced to address the gathering. Thoroughly caught unaware and watching 2000 faces look in my direction and some recognizable ones waving from their spots, it took a moment to register that I was ACTUALLY called to speak to my friends. Sundar Lal ji, Director SCRIA, all my co-workers of the last 6 months and the dynamic women of Shakti Parishad were giving me encouraging nods to take the mike in my hands. I don't know what transpired in the next two minutes. It was a very short speech. I remember the crowd gasped when I told them that I was from Chennai, a place over 2000 km away. I remember in the end, I gave up the mike and simply yelled, "phool nahi chingari hain" to which all the women replied, "hum bharat ke naari hain". And they clapped. The program wound down and many women started crowding around me. The elderly ones were patting my head and blessing me, some close to my age were simply holding my hand  and smiling at me, few others just came, squeezed my palm for a short moment and just stepped back. I have had the opportunity of addressing gatherings before, small, medium or large, but nothing was even half as fulfilling as the 120 seconds on March 8th 2013. I was humbled by the love and affection that these village women showered upon me, an acquaintance of few meetings. The incredible feeling of having raised aspirations and an inspiration to take challenges head on, bonded me and the women that evening. Right from Beermati ji to Revati ji to Santosh, Nirmala to Rekha to me, it was all our day of reckoning.

A section of the audience cheering and applauding the funny antics of Neelam (above) as a drunk husband first abusing his wife, then pleading for her to give him some dinner and later promising not to drink again!

Maybe like everything else grassroots, there is a sincerity and necessity for feminist activism. Shedding the ugly hypocrite image of feminists that I carried from the cities, I saw why Women's Day was a big deal. In 180 days, a lot of things had flipped a 180 degrees for me. From Aam Sabha to Mahila Diwas, I have realised that these women who desperately crave and fight for a different freedom, are perhaps the only ones who truly value and respect it. Rekha's words echoed in my head for a whole week, "I am not the only one. You all can be one. Thousands like Rekha. Hazaaron Rekha jaisi."