the indian woman

I came across this article regarding Sudha Murthy a couple of years ago. Here are some excerpts…

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By Narayan Murthy:
“Sudha was the only female student in her Engineering class at Hubli, a conservative town in North Karnataka.

Besides being a fine engineer, she is a great writer too”

By Sudha Murthy:
“People here have to work in shifts, he [Telco interviewer] said, And that might pose a
problem for a lady on the shop floor full of men. Secondly, you will
have to drive a jeep. Lastly, we spend considerable time and energy
training people. This is wasted when a girl trainee gets married as
she quits and goes to live with her husband.

I assured them that I was willing to work in shifts and that I will never
play my gender card. If my grandmother could learn to read and write at
62, I could learn to drive a jeep at 23. And yes, I will go to live with
my husband when I get married. I asked the panel how many of them were
married and how many of them have gone to live with their wives. None.
When they have followed a 1000- year-old male-favouring tradition why
should they expect anything different from me? Yes, I will leave to live
with my husband when I get married but unlike a boy who might leave them
if he gets an additional 100 rupees at a rival company, I will not quit
Telco even if I am offered huge sums of money. I assured them my loyalty.”

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At that time, my idea of a run-of-the-mill woman was saw **typically** [not everyone, and not all the time!] very materialistic, constantly craving for attention, and very dependent on her husband for financial and especially emotional support and security. Sudha Murthy I had felt was a radical exception, and my idea of an ideal woman: one with *Spirit*.

I chanced across the same article again a few days ago, and ended up reading it all over again. This time, something different struck me… which I wish to share here.

Amma (my mother) regularly frequented a place called Socare, a home for children who’s parents are in prisons. She absolutely loved it there, just spending time with them, teaching them something or helping them with their homework. But Ajji (my grandmother) somehow tried to object, and women have this vague indirect method of objecting to things… Though it was only for an hour, Ajji would complain that Amma never stays at home or something or the other like that. It was Ajji’s concept that “women shouldnt be roaming around too much”, and hence the discouragement.

I remember in the good old days, our family used to make intercity tours by car or minivan. While driving through some rural places, it was common to see some kids walking along a long highway to their school. And when some of them asked for lifts, Ajji would plead with my uncle (who was driving) to stop… “eh Raja Raja car nilso, paapa shaale maklu kano” asking him to stop the car and give the poor school going kids walking so far a lift.

It was her basic nature to help, to do something, anything for them, and that was the very least she could do. But somehow this nature got a chance to surface very rarely, and was supressed and hidden most of her life. All her infinite love and compassion was restricted only to us (priviledged) family members. Yet when she saw my mom trying to do something on her own, she saw it as inappropriate.

One might think that the example of my grandmother is probably an outdated one, and we should consider someone from our generation. Yet my school classmate’s grandmother, around the same age as my own Ajji, had broken all the unwritten society rules in her era. She used to drive around a car when others were only housewifes, and… had founded the very school we studied in!

I am convinced, and not just based on a few ad hoc examples, that though generations have passed, this one aspect of the culture is still the same. Maybe the ratio has changed, more women are liberal* than before, but still that fear is still there.

Indian women constantly are *trapped* with the fear of what others, esp other women, will say or think about them, and whether they are conforming to society’s norms or not. When they are not worrying about that, they themselves in turn are judgemental about others.

So though individually, given a choice, they would like to be very much different, and very much free, its because of each other that they get trapped!

Coming back to my reference to the article by Sudha murthy, I dont believe any more that Sudha Murthy is an extraordinary woman. While I remain her erstwhile fan, I now feel she is an ordinary woman. Because every woman if left to her own devices, would be in some way a sudha Murthy, living on similar lines as her. In other words, every woman would become an extraordinary woman if only they would free themselves!

The best thing that a man can do to help a woman he cares about to achieve her potential, is to leave her alone 😉 And if that dosent work, here are some more possibilities. He could make an attempt to converse with her going beyond “whats for dinner?’ and “is my shirt pressed?”, to trying to really understand her hidden aspirations. Please note that relationship (father/son/grandson/brother/husband/family friend) is immaterial here. He could then try and support her aspirations, by creating opportunities for her to pursue them. Find out what her tasks for the day are. Typically they may be “wash vessels, clear out a cupboard, water the plants, cook lunch, also prepare in advance for cooking dinner and also breakfast and lunch for the next day, do some shopping, and worst of all… watch TV serials” tasks which have become so routine that the woman is absolutely blind to any other alternative.

The man must try to *break this monotonous routine* every now and then, so once in a way maybe on a weekend, try to take on some of these tasks himself [or more conveniently, argue and convince her to postpone/cancel some of them 😉 ] Basically, try to create some time and opportunity for her once in a way to set her free to go do her own thing.

Maybe long ago she wanted to attend some classical music classes, or some computer-literacy course, or a vocational training course (not really to make money but to learn something new) or learn pranic healing, or visit an art gallery such as Chitra Kala Parishat or music concert, or help out at a childrens home, or even as simple as visit a long lost “aathmeeya” (approx translation is “close” but cant think of a better one) friend.

The more number of times she tries out these alternatives, the more she will find it easier to single out things she really likes and pursue them, and then will be unstoppable 😉 and need no more encouragement! Alternative schedules for other tasks like household chores which used to take all day will now automatically start falling into place. “Every project takes the time allotted to it” very much applies here too.

IMPORTANT: There’s NO such thing as “too old”, its NEVER too late.

Even my 85+ year old grandmother had aspirations as simple as taking a walk outside in the sun (which she couldnt do alone) to even attending a Nataka (Kannada drama) which when I took her to it, thoroughly enjoyed myself too in the process! It was not so easy, she would always hesitate, “aiyooo, ee mudhki maneli biddhirodhbittu aache suththaidhaaLe antha jana biddhu biddhu nagthare” [*2] – “people will fall over laughing to see this old lady roaming around instead of staying at home”. I used to dismiss it with “beeLi bidu, avara paadige avaru yehdelthara” – let them fall, they can get up by themselves! …and she was one lady who didnt need too much of convincing as she would already have started to wear her chappals… 😉

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[*1]: There are also some who go to another extreme by being so liberal that they do not bother too much about society or marriage or family and remain single and independent very late into their life but thats outside the scope of this essay.

[*2]: In fact, the phrase “jana biddhu biddhu nagthare” is so common that it crops in almost any argument Ive had with the women I’ve know.

Comments

3 responses to “the indian woman”

  1. msanjay Avatar
    msanjay

    Another article on Sudha Murthy

    When God asked Raja Rathideva what he wanted, the king said, “Give me strong hands and a compassionate heart.”

    “It’s a mistake to invite me to speak,” she lisps and smiles, her eyes sparkling with equal parts intelligence and impishness. “I’m a teacher and I speak till the bell.”

    An hour-and-a-quarter later, she is still speaking and the audience at the Madras School of Social Work isn’t ready to leave.

    It took the MSSW two years to get her to come. She was busy travelling to find out where the Infosys Foundation money should go. Finally, Sudha Murthy (Infosys Foundation Trustee and wife of Infosys Technologies Chairman N R Narayana Murthy) is here to answer the question, “What is social work?” The occasion is the 14th Mary Clubwala Jadav Memorial lecture.

    Her speech is a string of anecdotes, mostly personal, pasted together with quotes from the scriptures. It is a Toulmin analysis of claims, reasons and evidence. It is a Rogerian argument that seeks to find agreement between people who disagree. In the end it succeeds in its objective; convince the audience.

    “Doing social work is not easy,” she warns waving her mehndi-patterned hand. And goes on to break stereotypical notions of this work with the precision of a well-schooled computer architect. She knows a social worker is traditionally pictured as someone wearing khadi, jhola and dishevelled hair.

    “I have been accused of using a computer and plane travel for my work. But these are tools that make me efficient. I have to make a judgment in five minutes. Of a human being, of a cause.” In comparison business advisory decisions are easy to make. Which is why social workers need to be professional, practical and stay clear of emotional judgments.

    She recalls a difficult decision-making situation when she had funds for just one more signature. She had to choose between a young mother and a kid. Both needed nuclear medicine for cancer treatment. She weighed all arguments and decided in favour of the mother. “I didn’t want her children orphaned,” she explains, and in a stage whisper adds, “For the child, I wrote a personal cheque.”

    She stresses the need to be in the field — facing malaria, cholera and doing with just one simple meal a day. She talks of the trauma of seeing India’s poverty. “Poverty takes away the right to argue. It takes away options and opportunities. Nobody wishes to be born into a poor family.”

    She quotes Thatthareya Upanishad to entreat her listeners to set aside a portion of the income for their educational institution, another for the poor. All this of course, after looking after one’s own family. “But draw a line at what you need. Take your partner’s consent. See that you do not make the receiver your dependent. Give as naturally as you eat, sleep or breathe. You don’t have to be an entrepreneur to give.”

    She doesn’t deny money helps in social work. “It helps to build good infrastructure. But what truly helps is the passion for the work.” No, no, compassion doesn’t mean tears and talk, she is quick to add. It is not holding meetings and getting your name in the papers.

    Orissa is a recurring theme in the lecture. She grins when asked, “Are Infosysians sensitised to social work?” Retorts, “Murthy will not allow me to pull them out. But in Orissa, I requested them to devote two hours per week, which later changed to one day a month. There would be no promotion, no increment and no ESOPs for this. But everyone turned up to help build SNEHAM at Bhubaneswar.”

    Has she ever goofed up? “Yes,” she admits. “We award 700 scholarships a year and have helped 70,000 people. In the early years I got conned quite a few times.” She tells of a father who used her cheque to raise funds for the son’s cancer treatment and let him die anyway.

    Now she has a database with complete details and does a systematic follow-up. She is philosophical about people who choose to forget the Foundation’s crucial help. “Gratitude is the highest form of culture. But some are not good at it,” she shrugs.

    The Foundation has made her a different person, she claims. People are her books. She narrates a touching encounter in support. On a visit to a temple in a remote village in Tamil Nadu, she noticed the priest and his wife were blind, in their eighties and obviously poor. She at once offered to deposit an amount, the interest from which they could use. She said the capital could go to the temple when it was no longer needed.

    She was in for a lesson in charity. “I don’t have your name, but you are foolish,” was the response. “I have served this Nanjundeeswara all my life. He has always provided me with two meals a day. The village gives us clothes during festivals. We don’t attend concerts. Why do we need all this money?”

    For medical expenses, she persisted. The man must have smiled when he said, “Someone might hit me and take your gift away. I am happy within myself. I need nothing else.”

    “I hurt a sensitive soul,” rues Sudha.

    IITs and IIMs (Indian Institutes of Technology and Indian Institutes of Management) don’t teach values like contentment, she points out. They don’t get the students to think with compassion, to learn to understand others. She once asked Bill Gates who could make the greatest difference in life. “A compassionate social worker,” said the IT guru. “Never lose them.”

    There is no one way to do social work, she declares. A woman sends her 20 grand (Rs 20,000) a month and wants the receipt sent to her mother’s house. She was not sure her husband would approve.

    Teach your maid’s daughter to read and write, she suggests, or bear her school expenses. Find what you can do on Sundays to improve your neighbourhood. Sometimes just good advice would do.

    At the end of one of her speeches in Gujarat, a group of ten 35-plus women told her they had a few hours to spare during the day. Sudha told them to go to the nearest slum and start a hygiene campaign. Take the kids for vaccination. Tell the women to save a bit of what they earned daily. Resist their alcoholic husbands. It was one of 300 speeches she makes a year. She didn’t think of it one way or the other.

    Four years later, she was astonished to find her advice turned into a movement. A hundred women now had a sizable bank account. This time she told them to register themselves as a society and get an NGO to help start a small business.

    She takes pains to explain where the money goes. “Any family that does not eat two meals a day, cannot educate kids till class X is poor. But in the five states we have worked, I have set up libraries in the remotest parts. These are my happiest investments.” The audience applauds.

    One incident stays etched in her mind. In Anaikal, a woman and her young unmarried daughter came to see her on subsequent days. Sudha wanted to know why they hadn’t travelled together. Eyes downcast, the woman said, “We have only one sari between us.”

    She is not smiling now. “We are doing well in software. But in 50 years, we have not wiped out this helplessness. It is not fair and I blame myself.”

    Delivered anywhere else, this would sound like the weary cliché of a well-heeled politician. But from her, the words emerge miraculously clothed in the resonance of truth. Is it her sincerity? Her work? Her simplicity? Her life itself? All of it perhaps.

  2. bellur ramakrishna Avatar

    sanjay,
    the piece where narayana murthy and sudha murthy have written how they struggled and succeeded in forming infosys is inspirational. lot to learn from that. sudha murthy has described intricate details of how she struggled in a male dominated society.

  3. […] they’re obviously better than what I would’ve managed… As if to prove my ideas about just needing to provide the right opportunity to Indian woman! Can we put all these pictures online, I wondered. Our son belongs to the whole world, not just […]

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