Ladies wrote to reform Teej (Mona Shrestha Adhikari, ‘Many sides of Teej’, Republica, Aug 31; Nirmala Sharma, ‘Let’s eat & enjoy Teej’—title translated, Aug 26 in a Nepali daily). Both gave liberating views on how Teej should change. Adhikari argued that Teej has given women the opportunity to gain prominence, but it has brought its blues as well. However, why should I, a man, write about Teej? I thought so until the excellent article on it by Mahabir Paudyal, a man like me, appeared (‘From purity to vulgarity’, Republica, Sept 3).
Not to duplicate what these able writers have stated, I approach Teej from the age old complaint that ours is a patriarchal society; and our ladies should break away from this shackle. I sympathize fully with this view because I’ve tried to practise sex-equality in my own family. Married as a Hindu, I outlawed the daily foot-washing ceremony right from the first day. After both my wife and I became disciples of Jesus Christ, mutual consultation and sharing of chores gradually became second nature. At present, not a piece of parental land remains in my name. All has gone to my wife.
So, I joke that I am a sukumbasi (landless sojourner); and she can kick me out when she likes. As a Christian, my wife doesn’t abstain from food for her husband’s welfare once in the year. She fasts often in prayer for her family, for the country, for solutions to problems; but only when her conscience tells her to do so. No coercion.
So, when educated Nepali ladies say we must break away from the patriarchal setup and yet celebrate Teej for an entire month, I note the contradiction. In the past, ladies ate dar just the night before fasting. Now, even that eating function can continue for a week at houses by turns, in restaurants, at hotels and in party-palaces.
And why are they doing it? Because they want to remain strong to fast for good husbands or the betterment of their present spouses. In the past, men remained in women’s priority only for two days of the festival. Now the time has stretched to a month. So, aren’t these dar eating ladies actually extending the patriarchal domination by giving such an importance to men during Teej? Two days after Teej, women fast again for Rishi Panchami. That continues the patriarchal bondage even further. Then, women direct their fast to seven male sages who will wash away the "sin" of touching things during menstruation. Do our ladies actually sin when they handle "holy" items during their monthly bleeding? Do men fast for purification after having wet dreams?
To really break away from the patriarchal grip, women should do what Nirmala Shrestha has suggested in her article, not fast but eat well on Teej and wish their present and future husbands well. After all, in Hinduism, do men ever fast for their wives? Never. Then, why should women skip meals and admit by behavior that the man still rules over them? Why should they show that without a man their lives remain incomplete? That notion lay behind the horrid widow-burning or sati, which the Baptist missionary William Carey, with the help of Governor General Bentinck, abolished it in India from 1829. Later, the Rana government of Nepal followed Carey’s example in our country.
When educated Nepali ladies say we must break away from the patriarchal setup and yet celebrate Teej for an entire month, I note the contradiction. In the past, ladies ate dar just the night before fasting. Now, even that eating function can continue for a week at houses by turns, in restaurants, at hotels and in party-palaces.
The most glaring negativism lies in the dancing and the ornaments that women display during and prior to Teej. Let’s deal with the dancing first. Whom are the ladies trying to impress with their dances? Obviously, men. Don’t these dancing angels admit by their behavior that men after all are superior, and they have to twist their bodies at all angles to win their attention? Such ladies certainly make the camera-men happy, and TVs advertise videos of them. Commercially, the dancers may profit and also the video-makers. But, when only ladies dance and the act isn’t mutual (with both men and women doing it together), the patriarchal bondage prevails. Certainly, I wouldn’t like my sisters to dance as the video-makers portray them on the TV screen, and debase themselves. Men may not complain (who doesn’t like free entertainment?); but women should realize that the "superior" sex is using them.
The ornaments portray the same phenomenon. The folk crooner Raamesh Shrestha sings on the folly of displaying ornaments. His song suggests that ladies should avoid ornaments to prove that their worth doesn’t lie in them. Men should value women for what they are, God’s wonderful creation (this comes from my Christian bias, no apology). Besides, displaying ornaments puts their lives at risks because robbers will be stalking them. One TV serial had a lady wearing a fake necklace for the dar feast where she gets robbed; and the thief, who returns the booty, advises her to wear real ornaments because she has just wasted his time! This comedy on TV gets quite serious in reality when women may not only lose gold but also their lives. Ornaments stress the patriarchal notion that women should wear their finest to appear attractive to men.
Besides continuing the patriarchal stranglehold, modern Teej has enlarged the disparity between city ladies and village women. Our rustic sisters normally have a hard life, and Teej provides an escape for two days once in the year. They go to their maiden homes, cry their hearts out, and return to face another twelve months. However, city women on the whole have it relatively easier. Not all of them start preparing for Teej one month in advance, but the media makes it appear so because some must be doing it. Villages with electricity have TV; and many women there watch their urban sisters starting their dances a month earlier. Whatever the reality, modern Teej gives the impression that city-women have very little work to do; and they can indulge in the festival to their heart’s desire.
When King Gyanendra tried his dictatorship from February 1, 2005, many cringed when they saw evidently educated women washing his feet. Under the illusion that he’s an incarnation of god Vishnu, Gyanendra probably tolerated it. It’s possible he may have scoffed at the incarnation idea in his mind, but he allowed foot-washing to prove his sovereignty over his subjects. Political uprising has taken away this countrywide, patriarchal figure, the king. Nepali women should beware that by observing Teej they don’t enforce patriarchy through the back door.
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