If only prayers can be transformed . . .
MOHINI GIRI
On the confluence of the rivers Ganga and Jamboi in West Bengal, their colours spill into each other but at the same time they remain distinctly apart, as if the water too is reflecting like a mirror, the society which it traverses through — the haves and the have nots. Those for whom like the Ganga, the water flows pure and white, and those for whom there is only the murky brown of the local stream.
I had the fortune of visiting Mayapur and Navadweep for an Inter Faith Conference organised and arranged at the large and modern ISKCON facility in Mayapur. Spread over hundreds of acres, it has all the facilities of any large commercial centre in a metropolitan city — conference rooms, halls, guest rooms, kitchen dining rooms, etc. There were thousands of foreigners there, all converts into Krishna’s devotees, wearing Indian clothes and chanting prayers throughout the day. The cleanliness, sense of hygiene and peace there was exemplary. Even as I praised their sense of duty and their bhakti, I wondered how they could really do God’s work and achieve so much more for the common man and woman in their area, if they transformed their prayers into service, poverty alleviation programmes and active strategies for emancipation of the downtrodden just outside their gates.
The districts of Mayapur and Navadweep are both cut off from the world, with little means of communication, for there are hardly any newspapers or television. How can progress be attained when one is not in contact with the reality? As the country allegedly makes progress on the economic front, the gap between the haves and the have-nots widens increasingly.
Out of sync with reality
Braving a boat ride, I went to visit Navadweep with a Bangladeshi escort and Ms. Maria Corazon Ponteres, a young woman from Philippines in order to see the condition of widows there.
Years of work in Vrindavan had allowed me to understand that most of the widows in U.P come from certain districts of Bengal. The situation was nearly the same as U.P. but the condition of the widows was marginally better due to several reasons. Living in their hometown made them feel at home and not out of place and lost.
They were comfortable in their clothing, in the food they ate, as well as the language that was spoken around them. Despite the fact that they were in familiar and comfortable surroundings, their thought process and beliefs were centuries old and backward.
There were Bhajan Ashrams there as well, and I visited three of them. To my utter surprise, as I entered the first one, many women recognised me. It astonished me to find that the Guild’s work in Vrindvan had reached the ears of these women far away. In one of the ashrams I even encountered Basanti, a widow, who had worked for the Guild of Service for four years before returning to Bengal. She was delighted to see a familiar face, and expressed a desire to return to us.
Within the Bhajan Ashrams their plight was only slightly better than those in Vrindavan. They still sang for a few rupees, but many of them also got shelter there. Most of the widows however, were asking for alms on the streets and lived in makeshift shacks. I asked some of them why they still chose to come to Vrindavan, as it was so much better for them to remain in their own hometown. I think that rather than facing the added trauma of displacement, marginalised widows should be allowed to remain in their hometowns, and poverty alleviation and empowerment strategies should be implemented there itself.
It was a truly insightful experience for me, despite having worked in the area of widows’ empowerment since the last two decades. Despite the diversity due to regional differences and geography, widows and single women were crumbling under the patriarchal norms that relegate them to a life of begging and dependence on strangers, even as there are grand temples and organisations saying prayers.
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