She is one of the two earning members in her family. The other is her son. Her husband gets work on and off. Her daughter is still a student. Her son has a motorbike. Her husband a scooter. She rides a cycle, to and from work and to the market for vegetables. Her employer gave her a push button phone. Her husband appropriated it because she did not know how to use it. Her son has a smartphone on which he watches movies and chats.
Her employer bought her another phone, a bright blue one because she liked the colour, and taught her how to use it. But she waited and waited and neither son nor husband would get her a connection. When a friend loaned a SIM card, she still had to wait for it to start working. It needed to be recharged. Her earnings go into an account in her name, but she has limited access to the cash. The ATM card is with her husband, and he has neither the inclination nor the time to worry about her phone. Her phone travels with her in her basket, up and down, as she goes about her day. Both the phone and she hold their silence.
She likes dressing up and riding the bike with her husband. He is smart and tall, and will inherit the business, and she knows they make a good-looking couple. She dresses smartly when they go out, he likes her to wear western clothes and make up, as long as she wears her mangalsutra under it all. She likes too that the young men’s eyes follow her as she takes her place in the restaurant. One of them pays her a compliment, half under his breath, and she cannot not help smiling a quick response.
Her husband seldom says anything nice, these days. And now, a storm is gathering, because he has intercepted her look. When he calls her a loose woman and asks her how many boyfriends she has entertained, she demurs. You also look at pretty girls, she says. Shut up, he retorts, and slaps her across the face. Everyone in the restaurant continues eating. And so does she.
Two women, among the many. Women of independent India, granted equal rights to education, to work, vote, open bank accounts, drive and fly. They are everywhere; of all ages, from all stations of life. Going about their days, busy in the tasks of learning, earning, providing, maintaining. Many of them find their due place in business, or professions, sports or science. Yet, not just in India, but across the world, many more are held back by invisible strings: tradition, habit, insecurity, and the need to maintain status quo.
When will the men of the world stop being afraid? And realise that letting their women soar will give their own life an unprecedented lift?
saran.sathya@gmail.com
Sathya Saran
Author & Consulting Editor, Penguin Random House