Beauty, grace and the crowing hen

As a part of folk literature, the proverb continues to create, inform, address, direct and shape the ideology of a community in its day-to-day life, cutting across the boundaries of time, culture and nation. A critical understanding of such ideology subsequently becomes important for unravelling the underlying subconscious and conscious collective of any community. Proverbs in the Nepali-speaking communities of Nepal and India are used to legitimise ideological positions, with gender remaining of particular importance. The rampant use of gender-insensitive proverbs in the Nepali-speaking communities of Nepal and India reflects the dominance of patriarchy throughout..Let us start with the notion of daughterhood in a country where the dominant patriarchy continues to lead families to prioritise the birth of a boy. "Chhoraa paaye khasi khauli chhori paaye pharsi," goes one popular proverb. "Beget a son, and dine on mutton; beget a daughter, get pumpkin." States another: "Dhilo hos, chhoro hos," or "Let there be a son, no matter how late." This fixation on the birth of a male child is accompanied by a near-pathological dread of the birth of a girl. Additional proverbs throw light on the phobia..Chhori mari gaal tari.(The daughter is dead and so is infamy.)Chhori cheli gaalko gund.(A daughter is the nest of shame)..The polarised sexual politics that begins with such extremes of obsession and aversion becomes part of the collective communal consciousness and, in turn, becomes the dominant ideology. The equating of a daughter with 'shame' and 'infamy', as well as the corresponding privileged position given to the son, reduces the young girl from her birth into a lesser being – a liability, an amorphous zone of danger and dread; the unwanted, undesired expression of a cosmic and cultural blunder. As the daughter grows up, she inevitably accepts such gendered constructions as natural, and internalises the shame and infamy as the price she must pay for having been born the 'wrong' gender..Artwork: Bilash Rai. Now let us look at four proverbs that deal very particularly with the issue of female sexuality.. Najarbhariki swaasni ra muthihariko dhaan. (The riches in the fist and the wife within sight). Baari hernu dhandh bhaa'ko, swaasni hernu gand bhaako. (Look for a pebbly uneven plot, go for a wife with a goitre). Bhaatko aincho ra swaasniko paincho huidaina. (The swapping of cooked rice and a wife is not done). Laage laag mohani nalaage gharmai chha budi. (If romance does not work, there is always the wife at home).. The first proverb treats female sexuality as potentially threatening. "The wife within sight" assumes that since her sexuality is unreliable, she must be contained within the glorified straitjacket of domesticity. In case the patriarchal gaze cannot patrol the wife, some pre-emptive security measures should be taken by marrying an ugly wife "with a goitre", such that her ugliness would repel potential seducers. What is of interest in this proverb is the male gaze. Inherent in this is the idea that a beautiful female body is an object to be savoured, an entity to be seduced, a commodity to be used and flaunted. In this way, a woman's sexual desirability defines her existence. The stereotype of the male as seducer also deserves some analysis. In these proverbs, the onus of resisting seduction is on the woman, who needs to cultivate a superior sexual morality. Such morality is 'natural' on her part, as in a man it would be unnatural; the male as a seducer is an accepted and unproblematic cultural construct.. In the third proverb, the equation of cooked rice and wife is, of course, atrocious. Insofar as this proverb is concerned, just as cooked rice is a commodity to be consumed, so too is a married woman. The man-woman relationship does not rest on mutual interdependence, as the proverb points to man's need to 'consume' his wife for his own survival. Another way to read the line is that the woman is seen as chattel. Cooked rice cannot be bartered with ease because it would spoil quickly, and this is used to justify the idea that the wife cannot be exchanged. Moreover, it is the man who is the sole decision-maker about what can and cannot be lent. Within such a premise, the female body is his territory, which he has conquered through the highly patriarchal ritual of marriage.. If the female body is owned by the male, the male body is always the man's sole property, and he is quite 'liberal' with its use, both within and outside marriage. The fourth proverb indicates that the male's access to extramarital sexual adventure is limitless, depending upon his choice and capacity. If the romance outside marriage does not work out, there is always the "wife at home". Such anarchic sexual codes – loyalty and devotion for the wife, and reckless philandering for the husband – are unquestionably accepted in the ideological paradigm as offered by the culture of proverbs in the Nepali language.. The silent hen The association of men with the world and wealth, and of women with the household and age, becomes a convenient ideological and political tool to render women largely invisible in the social realm, and perpetually 'domesticated'. This social and political voicelessness is eloquently brought out by the first of the next batch of proverbs.. Ghar khaanu chhorile, desh khaanu chhoraale. (The daughter is for managing the household; the son is for the world.) Taruniko umer nasodhnu, maradko talab nasodhnu. (Do not ask a man's salary, nor a woman's age.) Baabu chhoraa hisaapkitap, aamaa chhori aincho-paincho. (Father and son doing the accounts; mother and daughter swapping things.) Pothi baaseko suhaudaina. (The crowing of a hen is unbecoming.). Indeed, the first proverb reiterates the strict gender segregation of the social and the domestic spheres. The third is particularly interesting, because the word 'crowing' here is loaded with polyphonic nuances. However, the act of a woman's crowing is a departure from not only norms but also of 'nature': crowing, after all, as an act of defiance (including in the Nepali language) and even transgression, leads to social and cultural visibility, something very 'unwomanly'. Crowing may also refer to a woman's visibility through other means, be it education, politics, culture or any career. Everything a woman does has to be surreptitious and clandestine, subscribing to particular norms of the feminine aesthetic: her eating (small meals without producing sounds), walking (small strides with elegance and poise), talking (soft, slow, yielding and soothing) and the like. Any departure from such aesthetics of womanhood would also be considered an act of crowing, the violation of the feminine. In a society in which women are more poeticised, romanticised and fantasised about than really understood, 'de-feminisation' and 'de-womanisation' go hand in hand. Indeed, the very act of crowing 'de-womanises' a woman: voicelessness, silence and invisibility ought instead to mark her (non-) being. We may also add that the dehumanisation of the woman is made complete in the proverb by the term pothi, which refers to the female among domesticated or wild fowl.. Closely aligned with all this is the paradox of female identity within matrimony, as highlighted by Nepali proverbs: the way matrimony simultaneously gives and takes away a woman's identity. It also exposes the unequal operation of power within matrimony, the politics of dominance and marginalisation. Here are some proverbs on the wide-ranging topic of marriage.. Cheli paali kutumblaai, kukur paali chituwaalaai. (A daughter is reared for the in-laws as the dog is taken by the leopard.) Paraalko ghar hudaina, chhoriko thar hudaina. (Straw houses can never last, women never retain their caste.) Khutta bhaye jutta dherai paainchha. (If you have a foot, shoes are always readily available.) Angaarbhandaa kaali das thaunmaa taali Anuhaar na danuhaar poi khojna thaali. (Blacker than coal, tattered clothes with holes, Without beauty and grace, in a husband-hunting race.) Mangsirmaa musaale pani saatwati bihe garchha. (Even a mouse marries seven times in December.) Mardaki dashoti joi. (A manly man has ten wives.) Mukh herne raand ko das janaa poi, marne belaamaa koi na koi. (Many a wanton woman have ten husbands; but not one at the time of death.) Kaanchhi swaasniko paad pani mitho hunchha. (Even the fart of the youngest wife tends to be sweet.). The first proverb here is significant not only from the perspective of identity politics but also from a more existential standpoint. A girl's rootlessness and alienation in the very house into which she is born is articulated, as she is merely "reared for the in-laws". In her life, she will never find her 'self', as she is always defined by another's ownership over her. The patriarchy-leopard looms large to announce the end of the dog-daughter, as overtones of annihilation and apocalypse strongly mark this proverb.. What happens as the institution of patriarchy devours the woman is made clear in the next proverb. Her surname, an indicator of her identity as given by her father, the prototype patriarch, is similar to a straw house, in that it cannot last; instead, as she marries, she is given the surname of her husband, another patriarch. Both her father's surname and the family into which she was born act as transit points, leading her to a destiny that she will reach only after losing her 'self'. Her destiny, then, is an existential void, one characterised by changing inter-familial affiliations in which patriarchy tolerates her visibility, for she is already always invisible. However, to many women, even this matrimonial invisibility becomes a difficult quest. Even if marriage decides her destiny, the dread of perpetual spinsterhood is very strong; the masculine gaze finds an ugly daughter useless. Since the only roles open to women in this folk world are those of the homemaker and 'bed-maker', their physical ugliness repels the hunger of the leopard, thereby frustrating their desire to be devoured.. However, the operational dynamics of matrimony are controlled by patriarchy, and the institutional inscription of patriarchy is, "If you have a foot, shoes are always readily available." The phallic metaphor here of a foot slipping into a shoe is significant, as is the easy availability of the 'shoe'. If a woman "without beauty and grace" goes on a "husband-hunting race", she suddenly acquires visibility. In the process, she is subjected to the patriarchal gaze that, by collective communal ridicule, subverts her subversion and negates her negation of the 'natural', a category to which women must subscribe in order to embrace her (non-) existence. She cannot hunt, she is to be hunted; she cannot negotiate, others must negotiate for her. In the case of matrimony, it is the muscular, masculine foreplay that explores and controls the eternally enigmatic female body-politic – the desirability, lyricism and femininity that lie in its resigned acceptance of passivity, silence and invisibility.. The patriarchal hegemony of the matrimonial space is echoed by the proverbs, "Even a mouse marries seven times in December," "A manly man has ten wives," and the reference to "even the fart of the youngest wife". What is most arresting here is the creation of a discourse of masculinity to suit the needs, demands and desire of sexual patriarchy. The possession of "ten wives" makes a man manlier. The ten wives function not as individuals with distinctive identities, but as a group – the collectivisation of their individuality and their resulting invisibility as individuals is needed to make the man more virile. On the other hand, ten husbands make the woman a debauch, as with the wanton's "ten husbands". The operational dynamics of sexual politics is tilted and lopsided: in the man's case, ten wives are part and parcel to his manhood and masculinity; in the woman's case, ten husbands veritably take apart her womanhood.. Only in distress In contrast to the denigration that women generally feel from proverbs in the Nepali language, all the constructions of motherhood are marked by idealisation or idolisation and eloquent lyricism. What is highly political about such proverbs is the ways in which they have been rendered apolitical and seemingly 'natural'.. Baabu mare aadhaa tuhuro aamaa mare singai. (Fatherlessness makes one a half-orphan; motherlessness makes one a full orphan.) Thhes nalaage aamaa samjhadaina. (A mother is remembered only at times of distress.) Aamaako dudh chusera pugena, babuko ghuda chusera pugchha? (If the maternal breast could not gratify, Would the sucking of father's knee satisfy?). In this set of proverbs, there is an eloquent evocation of eternal maternal mystery. The marginalisation of the father goes hand in hand with the centrality of the mother in the rearing of a child. But while the central position of the mother empowers her in the realm of domesticity, it disempowers and marginalises her in the larger world outside the home. The attempt at creating the spiritual cult of the 'mother goddess' ultimately leads to a polarised and stereotyped construction of identities. Does this childrearing give the woman a sense of fulfilment and identity? She may feel fulfilled, for the apparatus of patriarchy glorifies her motherhood as being her ultimate existential destiny. But if she at all understands the politics of such a construction, and if she looks for any alternative identity, what awaits her is emptiness and void. The lyrical hymn to the glory of her motherhood would subsequently be replaced by "The crowing of a hen is rather unbecoming", for the space where her crowing has some arability and limited social legitimacy is in the domain of domesticity.. The cult of motherhood finds expression in proverbs such as "Fatherlessness makes one a half-orphan: motherlessness makes one a full orphan" and "If the maternal breast could not gratify". The privileging of her motherhood, shown in the evocation of her bosom, typecasts the mother as a mentor and nurturer of her child. However, even in this role, she cannot create an identity for herself. Rather, her identity remains a mythical construct that continues to elude her, for the child she nurtures identifies herself or himself with the father, as the child inherits the father's name.. Sometimes the woman is equated with shree, with prosperity, as in "Jahan stri uhan shree," which translates as "Prosperity is where the woman is." The word shree has a spiritual connotation, suggesting not only wealth but also equating the woman with the goddess of prosperity, Lakshmi. Such deification is actually doubly disabling: first, it de-humanises or 'de-womanises' the woman by deifying her, as she loses her identity as a flesh-and-blood creature with human desires and aspirations. Second, her location in the spiritual domain erases her presence from the material domain of realpolitik, thereby again rendering her invisible.. Two extreme alternatives inform the woman's existential choices: "Ki raani holis, ki raandi holis" (Either a queen or a whore you will be). In the world of the proverbs, she can either be the angel of the household or a prostitute. Her subscription to the patriarchal dreams and desire, fantasy and romance, control and hegemony, gaze and invisibility, idealisation and idolisation, deification, reification and commodification would make her the angel of the household, 'the queen'. However, the making of the queen is the unmaking of herself: if the self actually came into being, it would destroy the grand patriarchal narratives all around. Hence, her anguish: "Naariko janma hareko karma" (A woman's birth is a lost life). To find her life, she needs to 'unwoman' herself: to cease to be a woman, and that pronounces her existential doom.. ~ Balram Uprety teaches English Literature at St. Joseph´s College, Darjeeling and is researching Nepali identity in India.