Grandmother: the institution that was By Randeep Wadehra

Dadi Nani: memories of our grandmothers edited by Subhash Mathur and Subodh Mathur
Spenta Multimedia, Mumbai. Pages: 196. Price: Rs. 495/-

For there is no friend like a grandmother
In calm or stormy weather;
To cheer one on the tedious way,
To fetch one if one goes astray,
To lift one if one totters down,
To strengthen whilst one stands.

(With due apologies to the late British poet Christina Rossetti)

The institution that is considered anachronistic today was a norm, nay, a sacrosanct ideal, not too long ago. Joint family was a prominent symbol of the Indian way of life. It started withering away with the onset of western influences and industrialization. By the middle of the twentieth century it disappeared from the urban India. Even in our countryside it is more or less extinct. Yet it endures in our consciousness as this volume indicates.
Imagine a huge family living under one roof out of convenience or necessity; an army of closely related persons having a common stake in each other’s wellbeing. A brood of ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters’ (the term ‘cousin’ had not entered our lexicon then – and when it did we Indianised it with the delightfully hyphenated “cousin-sister/brother”; such was the influence of middle-class joint family values). Although, barring Kerala, the patriarch ruled the roost it was grandma’s benign presence that had an enduring influence on the children’s psyche.
Actually, Dadi and Nani were more than a presence – they were repositories of hoary traditions; a binding force that kept families together emotionally as well as physically; the silent force that often enabled families to survive mortal crises; and above all a vital link between past and future while keeping the present in perspective; an archetypal grandmother was not the sweet-syrupy stereotype so much in vogue in our movies, or a harridan mother-in-law either. She was someone more realistic – a human being with all the frailties and strengths of a mortal with abiding love for the family that could reach the sublime heights of self-sacrifice.
In these twenty five anecdotes one comes to appreciate the resilience of women like Achchi Amma who brought up her infant children after becoming a widow at the age of 24 although she had lived as a parda-nasheen in a conservative Muslim milieu. Inspiring is the case of the brave Kumodini who, apart from early widowhood (even then she used to actively help freedom fighters while running the household), had to overcome ruin wrought by the Partition. And Thakuma whose sweet nature and devotion to the joint family helped keep the egoistic in-laws happy. Maijee is quite representative of the grandmas of those times – religious, upholders of family traditions with boundless love for children.
But not all grannies were conformists. There were rebels like the lovely Santosh who had a rather unconventional upbringing. Widowed as a young mother of two she would drive her own car, smoke and socialize; when she married a Muslim who was younger to her it created quite a ruckus in Lahore’s conservative Hindu society. Or Achamma who, undaunted by widowhood, not only looked after her large family but also set up enduring social institutions. Muthassi reveled in sharing the fruits of her progressive ideas with the society at large. You will find the contribution, Daughters of Independence, quite informative regarding women who came to terms with the post-Partition struggles. Another inspirational woman is Ujam who made education the mantra for not just women’s emancipation but also a route to prosperity for her family’s coming generations. Women like Lajwanti and Jayanthi Pakasamma set examples in attitudinal dynamism that helped them straddle the past and the future.
Remember, these women had lived in the early to mid 1900s when fundamental shifts were taking place in India’s political, economic and social scenarios; and most of them were victims of medieval practices like child brides married to much older men. Yet the barely educated Dadis and Nanis of these narratives display dollops of chutzpa, wisdom, foresight and forbearance to come up trumps against the vagaries of fate. This reminds one of what the Irish novelist Roddy Doyle had once observed, “From my experience and observation, if a family is held together in difficult circumstances, nine times out of ten it’s the woman who’s doing it...You’ll find women in their late thirties who look 50, and their husbands of the same age who look 28 or 29 – like the eldest sons. Because, in many ways, they are the eldest sons.”
Touché!

Swagat