Mother in white

BY SUDHA NATARAJAN

The beginning of despair

Darkness. The interior of a small dwelling. A mother writhes in pain. Neighbouring women assist. Suddenly, wailing with gusto, a baby breathes earth’s air for the first time. But it is a female child. Her father sits outside with his head bent and buried in his hands. Teardrops mingle with sweat as the mother looks at the baby girl. Her little one is healthy in body, but still challenged….socially challenged. Yet another girl has been born to meet the demands of society.

It is August 21, 1922.

Gangabehn was born to parents of limited means in Nanavaracha village in Gujarat. It was a family of four girls and a boy. Her father made a living by making shoes. His income was limited, and he had six mouths to feed. The girls would grow up fast and would have to be married at the right time. What was the right time? When they were five and six years old, of course!

Childhood widows

Six-year-old Ganga was married on the same day as her sister, who was a year older. The boys were eight and nine, picked from their play along the dusty road, and cleaned and dressed for the occasion. It was more a matter of celebration for the families, the exchange of gifts. For the children it was a game and of course, they would get special sweets and a satisfying meal on that day. The girls were left with the parents after the ceremony, until they were of age to start a married life.

Once again, destiny struck. A disease that swept the village took both boys in its wake, and the sisters were widowed at the tender ages of nine and ten. They did not understand the wailing and beating of breasts among relatives, nor why they were not allowed wear coloured clothes, why they could not play as they liked, why certain sweets, delicacies which other children enjoyed were denied to them, why they had to remain indoors while their other sisters were married… many questions remained unanswered.

Tribulation, toil, sacrifice

But in their innocence, they were happy. They cheerfully helped their mother to stitch and embroidered caps and the little money that was saved and hidden carefully under a stone in a corner, remained a surprise for their father. When he decided to fulfil his dream and buy a piece of land with his meagre savings, the mother and daughters came up with their little surprise that supported him. With the land came labour and toil. Who should work on the farm? The younger brother needed to grow up to be the head of the family in the future. The other sisters were married and gone to their in-laws. Mother was ailing from the burden of looking after the family.

The little girls would wake up in the wee hours of the morning, even before the sun was up. Packing their dry roti and something to go with it, they would hurry to the fields. The whole day was spent in toiling with the soil. Their sweat brought salt to the family, but it did not really make them rich. They continued assisting with the toil on the land, but not participating in the celebrations. They were widows destined to wear white, destined to tears ….

A brief glimpse of happiness

Life brought its changes. It was not easy for the parents to protect two girls who were growing to be beautiful in their teens. They had to ward off wolves in human form. But when Narbe Ram, who had made money through a shoe business in Rangoon turned up asking for the hand of beautiful Ganga, her father was only too happy to comply. Gangabehn, for once, knew happiness. Narbe Ram was a good husband, but not very healthy. He had a big family dependent on him. His father had taken to spending money on alcohol, and frittered the family savings on drinks. It became Narbe’s responsibility to look after his siblings, as well his own wife and the three children who were born within the next four or five years.

God has a way of testing those who are already tested. Most probably, He is sure that these people are resilient enough to take on the challenges He provides. Narbe succumbed to Tuberculosis, which was prevalent in those days. A lot was spent on his treatment and he died, leaving three beautiful young children in the hands of 25-year-old Gangabehn.

Back to the burden of soil

What he earned for the family soon disappeared, misused by a drunken father-inlaw. When his misbehaviour threatened the safety of her girls and herself, Gangabehn decided to take her children and go back to her parents. Once again, life was miserable working on the land, and caring for three children under four. Her brother, the head of the family now, was married with his own children. He already carried the burden of one sister who was widowed and destined to be taken care of by him throughout her life. Now the other widowed sister had turned up, with three extra mouths to feed! He found it difficult; stress turned into annoyance. His wife was not happy with the situation and squabbles occurred every now and then.

Gangabehn went to work in the fields once again, leaving early in the morning after feeding her babies. Toiling through the day, she hardly had time to eat. She returned late in the evening, once again to make sure her babies were fed. Half the night was spent in looking after their needs, as they took turns at being sick, demanding and needing the nurturing only a mother could provide. How she wished she could take care of them through the day! Her body ached from her toil, her mind ached with tribulation she was subjected to by society. There were men working in lands near the fields whose comments would make her shrink in fear. At times they would take hostile steps towards her, and she could only ward them off by threatening to report to the village elders. She always managed to safeguard herself by remaining in the midst of the other women, but they would also sneer at her. She was dependent and did not have a husband to support….

No end in sight

Life was not easy. Her hands were no longer a woman’s hands… they had hardened. Blisters appeared, and there were days when she had to bandage them before continuing to work. Sometimes she could not use her hand to eat. Life continued, the toil and tribulations continued, demands exceeded means and her capability to meet them, but despite it all she worked on, simply for the sake of her children…… *****

A reward for sacrifice

This mother, who raised her two girls and a boy through her hard work is now in Australia, under the loving care of her children. It did not happen overnight, and the journey was long and arduous. She educated her son to be a Chemical Engineer. The two girls did not have the opportunity to study beyond a certain stage, but it was their sacrifice which helped their brother become successful.

They did not understand the wailing and beating of breasts among relatives, nor why they were not allowed wear coloured clothes, why they could not play as they liked….

But despite it all, Gangabehn Rangoonwala brought up her children to have good values, to realise the need for hard work and to be resourceful. The girls learnt to make the best rotis in town, and even today, they are well known for their culinary expertise. They married, moved out of India, made a life for themselves. Today, Gangabehn stands dignified, strong in her silence, her forehead etched with lines from several years of suffering. Her hands are still strong not from working on the land now, but assisting in whatever way she can with the household cooking. She is loved, respected and her sacrifice and the challenges of her life are remembered with reverence and pain, as Tara Surti, her youngest daughter tearfully recounts her mother’s story.

Peace and contentment, at last Every mother goes through life and its several trials. However, mothers like Gangabehn stand out from the crowd. For almost all of her life she has been wearing white. She has worked with hands that have hurt. Pain and social exclusion has been her lot. But she has borne all this with fortitude, so that her children would grow up to enjoy their lives someday. The ears of suffering have taken their toil and her face hardly lights up into a natural smile… It is not only her children who are in tears, but all of us because her story strikes a raw nerve in our emotional network. We think about our mothers at that moment, wishing to see their faces breaking into joyous smiles….

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