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Widows in Varanasi

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I worked with a student named Irine from the University of Venice who wanted to study widows in Varanasi, focusing specifically on the issue of prostitution among widows in widow ashrams. She explained that her interest was sparked by the film *Water*. Although I found the subject compelling, I was initially uncertain about finding widows to interview about prostitution. Nevertheless, the topic intrigued me, so I agreed to collaborate with her. I conducted some research and discovered a government-run widow ashram near my home.

Upon visiting, we found about 18 widows living at the ashram. The facility was in poor condition: while there was a garden and open space, the building itself appeared to be from the early 1900s and was not well maintained. An office staff member informed us that a wealthy pilgrim from Kolkata had once visited Varanasi, met a widow at a ghat, and was moved by her story. This encounter led him to fund the construction of the ashram, which was later handed over to the government. It is currently managed by the Department of Women Welfare for Uttar Pradesh.

This is the only government-run widow ashram in the entire state of Uttar Pradesh. The woman in charge of the office was receptive to Irine’s project and allowed us to interview the widows. The ashram is divided into two sections: one for widows who are able to care for themselves and another for those who are physically unfit. Each widow receives only Rs. 550 (US$ 12) per month from the government. We were told by both the widows and the office in charge that no government funds had been received for the past three months, leaving the widows without any financial support.

The office in charge mentioned that local donors, who regularly contribute to the ashram, are essential for the widows’ survival. Without these donations, the government stipend alone would be insufficient. It is difficult to imagine how one could survive on Rs. 550 a month. The widows who are capable of managing on their own live on the ground floor, while those who are older or in poor health reside on the first floor. The government provides each widow with a small gas stove for cooking, but they must prepare their own meals. The ashram has a kitchen where food is prepared for those who cannot cook for themselves, with the cooking done by office staff. There is also a washing machine for laundry, though I am unsure who operates it.

The rooms are spacious, with four beds in each. Irine was particularly interested in exploring the issue of prostitution among widows, but I was uncertain how to approach this sensitive topic with women who were all over 65, with some over 80. We decided to visit the ashram multiple times, building rapport with the widows and staff to see if any information might emerge. We also inquired about other widow ashrams in Varanasi and were directed to two additional locations. One was very close to my place, called Mata Anandmayi Ashram.

At Mata Anandmayi Ashram, we discovered that it primarily functions as a religious school for girls. The peon mentioned that there were over 20 widows there as well, but the manager was extremely uncooperative. He denied that they housed any widows, which was puzzling. We were unable to speak with anyone other than the rude manager and peon. We then visited Birla Ashram at Chowk, Varanasi, which was established by the Birla family. There were around 20 widows residing there, but we couldn’t speak with any of them on our first visit.

We encountered a woman who was not a widow but was staying there thanks to her IAS officer husband, who had arranged a room for her due to her religious interests. She was uncooperative and prevented us from speaking with the widows. She asked us to return after a few days as she wanted to consult someone in Kolkata first. We returned after a few days and fortunately, the woman was not present. We managed to speak with a widow, but she was busy at the time. She told us that most of the widows at Birla Ashram work as cooks in various households and that the ashram only provides them with a room.

The disparity in support and conditions between the ashrams was striking. Some widows, particularly those who were unable to work, seemed to receive little more than a place to stay. When a widow dies, the ashram informs the family; if no one comes, the body is cremated, sometimes traditionally and sometimes using an electric burner. The stories of the widows were both heartbreaking and enlightening. Many were forced to leave their homes due to harsh circumstances: some were expelled by their own children or daughters-in-law, while others chose to leave to avoid being a burden. A common thread among them was early marriage, with some married as young as 6 or 7 years old.

I met several women married at such a young age, and many lost their husbands by the time they were only 10, never having lived with them. One remarkable woman from Chennai, who was the most educated and articulate of all the widows we met, shared a particularly poignant story. Married at seven, she spent four years living with her parents before moving in with her husband at eleven, only to be separated from him for a year due to family traditions. After her husband’s death, she lived with her parents and later with her sister. Feeling like a burden, she initially came to Varanasi to commit suicide but was saved by a boat rower and sent to the ashram. Her story was deeply moving and highlighted her resilience.

She described South Indian widow traditions, which differ somewhat from North Indian practices. For instance, after a husband’s death, a South Indian widow’s head is shaved, and she is separated from others while sarees are thrown at her from a distance. In South India, widows are permitted to wear either white or red sarees, whereas in North India, only white is allowed. The practice of throwing sarees is not something I have heard of in North India, but considering the conditions faced by widows, it’s not entirely inconceivable.

When we asked all the widows why someone becomes a widow, they all agreed with the belief that it is due to some sin from their past life. However, they felt that the sins of widowers are not as severe. Widows are expected to follow stringent rules, such as abstaining from tasty food, not interacting with men, not going out, not wearing colorful clothes, and avoiding celebrations. Most widows believed these restrictions were necessary to atone for their sins and avoid punishment in the afterlife.

Regarding remarriage, only a few widows felt it was acceptable; most viewed contemporary widows who remarry or dress in colorful clothes negatively. The general sentiment was that widows should adhere strictly to traditional practices. The prevailing view among the widows was that they were marginalized and discriminated against, particularly in Varanasi. They are often excluded from weddings and considered bad luck. It is disheartening to see such practices, which seem disconnected from the core values of Hinduism, which I believe should emphasize equality and respect for all individuals.

This experience has taught me a great deal. The systemic issues and historical practices that have contributed to the plight of women in India are profound. While education is crucial for addressing these problems, the current state of educational and social reform suggests that change may be slow. It is clear that addressing these deep-seated issues requires not only better education but also comprehensive social and policy reforms.

Newly born girl child thrown on the street

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Neetu is a sixteen-year-old girl who lives with one of my relatives in Mau district. Her story begins tragically: she was abandoned in a heap of garbage near the Mau railway station shortly after birth. Despite her desperate cries, no one stepped forward to help her. Fortunately, a relative of mine saw Neetu and couldn’t bear to leave her behind. He picked her up from the garbage and took her to his home. Upon arriving home, he showed Neetu to his wife, who was initially furious. She was already overwhelmed with their seven children—two daughters and five sons—and was not inclined to take on another child.

However, her husband argued that leaving Neetu in the garbage could mean certain death at the hands of an animal. They were initially unsure of Neetu’s gender, mistakenly thinking she was a male baby. When his wife discovered Neetu was a girl, her distress grew, worrying about the future dowry for her marriage. Nevertheless, they eventually decided to keep her. Now, at sixteen years old, Neetu has completed her 10th grade with good marks. My aunt, who had grown fond of Neetu, passed away a few years ago, leaving my uncle to care for her. My uncle, now elderly and retired, is largely neglected by his other children who live far away.

He is fully dependent on Neetu and is proud of his decision to keep her in the family. However, he is deeply concerned about her future, particularly her marriage. He has been searching for a groom for Neetu but has faced repeated rejection. The issue is not her character or education but the stigma associated with her origins. When potential suitors learn that Neetu was found in the garbage, they refuse to marry her. Neetu is being judged and rejected for circumstances beyond her control. My uncle’s dilemma is further compounded by the conservative and male-dominated nature of society in Mau. Despite his willingness to consider even an inter-caste groom, the stigma remains a significant barrier.

In Indian society, where boys are often prioritized over girls, Neetu’s situation highlights the deep-seated gender biases. The preference for male children leads to the tragic reality of female infanticide and the societal pressures faced by families with daughters. There are instances where people are criticized for having only daughters, facing scorn and ridicule, and there is an outdated belief that only males should perform certain rituals, such as carrying a body to the cremation ground. However, times are slowly changing.

I’ve heard of cases where daughters have defied tradition and performed last rites for their fathers, despite the initial shock it may cause. This shift indicates that attitudes are evolving, even if slowly. Hinduism, in its teachings, places women in high regard, but societal practices often fall short of these ideals. I remain hopeful that one day society will overcome these discriminatory attitudes, and girls like Neetu will not face such unjust barriers. I wish Neetu finds happiness and a loving partner, and I hope that the future will see a more equitable treatment of all children, regardless of their gender or circumstances of birth.

Life of an Indian Woman

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Nisha, my neighbor, moved into the neighborhood four years ago after marrying my friend’s brother. She’s also a friend of my wife’s. My wife told me that Nisha’s life before marriage was incredibly difficult. Her parents were very poor. A cousin, a government employee, would help Nisha’s family, but not out of familial obligation. Instead, he used this as leverage to sexually abuse her. He forced himself on her, threatening to stop helping her family if she resisted. Nisha was terrified and helpless. Even in front of friends, her cousin would harass her.

She could only cry and submit to his demands. This abuse continued for years, both before and after her marriage, whenever she visited her family. Now, her cousin blackmails her, threatening to tell her husband about their past if she doesn’t continue the abuse. Fear of her husband finding out keeps Nisha from cutting ties with her family. My wife told me this story, but I also witnessed firsthand what happened to Nisha after her marriage, as she lives nearby and is my friend’s sister-in-law. Immediately after the wedding, she faced immense pressure for dowry. Her husband would beat her and demand money from her family, but her parents were too poor to help.

Despite the abuse, she refused to ask her parents for money. Her mother-in-law would also mistreat her, denying her husband the right to sleep with her. They lived in separate rooms until the mother-in-law passed away. Nisha was responsible for all household chores, including cooking, cleaning, and laundry, while enduring constant abuse. She couldn’t even share a bed with her husband. Eventually, the stress took a toll on her mental health, but her husband neglected her. He sent her back to her parents’ home, where she stayed for six to seven months recovering. During this time, she was again abused by her cousin. When Nisha returned to her husband’s family, her problems were far from over. The beatings continued, and her husband persisted in demanding money from her parents.

The passing of her mother-in-law marked the end of one challenge, but the beginning of another. Nisha’s sister-in-law stepped into her mother-in-law’s role, treating her with similar cruelty. However, unlike her mother-in-law, she didn’t interfere with Nisha’s relationship with her husband. Nisha eventually gave birth to a son, which likely provided her with some relief. Had she given birth to a daughter, the situation could have been dire. Her abusive husband might have rejected a female child. It’s possible that she underwent a prenatal ultrasound to determine the baby’s sex, given her family’s history of harmful actions.

Nisha’s son is now one year old, but her sister-in-law continues to interfere. She tries to alienate Nisha from her child, keeping the baby busy and preventing Nisha from bonding with him. Nisha’s other sister-in-law plays a similar role, constantly engaging with the baby and providing care. Nisha longs to see her baby, but her husband and sister-in-law prevent her from doing so. About seven months ago, when the baby was only five months old, Nisha’s husband sent the child to his other sister in Delhi. Despite still breastfeeding, Nisha was abruptly forced to stop. The engorgement caused her immense pain, and she cried out in agony.

She desperately wanted her baby to feed, but he was far away. Her husband was absent at the time. Neighbors heard her cries and rushed her to the hospital. By the time she arrived, she had fainted. The doctor insisted that she breastfeed immediately, warning that the engorgement could be fatal. Concerned neighbors contacted Nisha’s husband, hoping for his cooperation. Instead, he began beating her in the hospital. The doctor recommended admitting Nisha to relieve the engorgement, but her husband refused. He called his sister, who had the baby in Delhi.

Her husband’s abuse escalated. Nisha suggested that he ask the doctor to stop her milk production, hoping to end the pain. Reluctantly, he agreed, and the doctor took steps to suppress her lactation. However, the pain persisted. The doctor urged Nisha’s husband to admit her to the hospital, but he refused. Instead, he brought her home and continued to abuse her. She was locked in a room for days without any medical care. All she could do was cry. Nisha’s husband and sister-in-law want the baby to forget his mother so they can keep him and force Nisha out of the family. They intentionally torture her, hoping she will leave, die, or disappear.

Nisha has lost all hope. She can’t even return to her impoverished parents. Neighbors are concerned and want to intervene, but Nisha forbids them, fearing that her family would retaliate violently. Nisha’s situation is dire, and something must be done. This is a clear consequence of our cultural bias that prioritizes males over females. While Hinduism traditionally respects women, this reverence has been eroded over time. Even young girls are revered in certain rituals. Our culture values women highly, but the implementation of this respect has faltered.

India is often touted as a developing nation, but this development is incomplete without gender equality. The progress of only male-dominated sectors is insufficient. Despite having a large number of professional women, which is a significant achievement, the reality remains bleak in many areas. In states like Haryana, Uttar Pradesh, and Bihar, the female sex ratio continues to decline. I hope for change, but it may be beyond my lifetime.