I grew up under the shadow of a mother, who spent most of her youthful years as a grass widow as my father had been away in the Gulf. Growing up, I never realized nor did I ever understand her loneliness or the degree of sacrifice she had made to keep the family together.
A graduate in English Language and Literature from SN Women’s College, Kollam, in the late 60s, my mother was never allowed to work by my father, who on many accounts was a wonderful husband and a loving father. I was told that my mother was a brilliant student who had a way with the language and cherished the poetry of Kumaranasan as much as the plays of Shakespeare.
When my father was teaching in a college in Trichy, the management of the college had offered my mother a teaching job in their school. But my father did not allow her to work because he thought no one could take care of my sister and me better than her. I think it would be topical and relevant to mention that my father was the youngest son of Vakkom Moulavi who fought all his life for educating girls. Not that my father was a bad person, but I wish I could ask him a few pertinent questions regarding keeping my mother at home. We can never ask questions to memories. To be fair to him, he may have his version of the story.
My sister was married off when she was in the first year of degree under a precarious situation created by my father’s illness and some financial constraints. Confined within the ‘luxury and comforts’ of her marriage, she could not pursue her studies for the next 17 years. But she did a remarkable job in dusting off her texts after nearly two decades and overcoming the many hurdles that came her way. Not only did she complete her degree but she went on to pass her post-graduation in English with a first-class. (Confession: I’m jealous.) Past the age to get a teaching job, she now runs an English Lab in our home town, Varkala, teaching English grammar to her students who range from college teachers to primary pupils.
I met my future wife in a newsroom in the UAE. While I was a copyeditor at the desk in Sharjah, she was a senior reporter in Abu Dhabi, covering cultural, community and diplomatic beats. We got married at the Indian Consulate in Dubai. Five years into our marriage, a daughter and a son later, she suffered a massive postpartum stroke, which has rendered her hemiplegic. Ever since that July morning, the lives of my children and mine have revolved around this woman of remarkable character.
Yes, she has a temper, which is made a lot worse by the post-stroke life of dependency and frustrations. But I have to give it to her for her remarkable faith and hope in Jesus. A few years ago, a friend of ours called from Bangalore and in an excited voice asked me to get her across to Bangalore at the earliest. He said that some vaidyan was healing paralytics by giving them some ‘powder’. To be fair to my wife, I told her about the call and asked her if she would want to go so that she could walk. She looked into my eyes and said: ‘I don’t want to walk somehow. I don’t believe in any magic powder but in the hope of my Lord!’ She has to depend on others even move out of her bed! It made me think.
We all go for or at least look for, shortcuts. Shortcut to success, a shortcut to wealth, a shortcut to fame, and a shortcut to healing! Not that I am a perfect husband, nor is our life is without any hassles. In fact, our life is rife with practical challenges. With all the practical and financial challenges and often emotional upheavals, I believe that my wife is a remarkable person, holding on to her faith even in the face of adversity. She keeps a tab on the contemporary geopolitical happenings around the globe. I often go to her for an update on world affairs. Of course, she gives it to me from her perspective!
Today my daughter turned 14. I can’t believe that the bundle of joy a nurse in Al Baraha Hospital in Dubai handed over to me has become a ‘woman’. While I admit that handling these millennials is as hazardous as batting at Perth, it has been a joy seeing her grow up from my palm to as tall as I am. An excited father, I threw all kinds of books at my children as soon as they could read the alphabet because we, as parents, wanted our children to read up as much as they could. To our horror, we realized that they didn’t want to read.
After so many such experiments to find out their true love and talent, one day I took them to a cricket ground. And, they stuck to it. Training under a Kerala Cricket Association coach, my daughter wants to be a cricketer and dreams of playing for the country. Now, the trouble is the ring of advisers. ‘How can you do this? She has to study…better ask her to focus her on her studies and forget about cricket…she is a girl…’ Having played my bit of college and club cricket, I am biased toward seeing her play for India. Having said that and agreeing to its share of uncertainty, I would have supported her if she wanted to be an anthropologist, researching the battlefields of communal hatred.
While I try to understand and support my mother, sister, wife, and daughter, I would disagree with them if they thought society should be a ‘feminist’ one. I believe that both men and women have equal and unique roles to play, and any move to tilt that balance will, and it has, beget unacceptable situations. And, honestly, I don’t understand the hue and cry about ‘feminism’ because in the first place, disrespecting a woman or her dignity should never be a part of a man’s being. And, I would love to kick the butts of a male chauvinist at first sight. On the other hand, can’t stand the bra-burning, bloody-napkin-brandishing types of feminists either! The best way to love and respect a woman, I believe, is to accept her as she is, and understand the unique role she is created to play in a family and in society.
Kerala will make true socio-cultural and economic development only if we could get rid of the hypocrisy and conservative moorings wrapped in the guise of ‘a progressive mindset’. Sabin Iqbal is Thiruvananthapuram based, senior journalist. He writes on culture, sports and business.
