“Let them talk!”. That’s easier said than done in insular communities where social acceptance is valued over and above personal aspirations. In such cases, the sad reality is that many of us have lived and perhaps even continue to live with the fear of judgement, gossip and ‘badnam’ (a bad name).
The song I am sharing today (Kuch Toh Log Kahenge) is one that I grew up hearing. Years before I was even introduced to this socially constructed notion of female shame, the film ‘Amar Prem’ starring Sharmilla Tagore (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amar_Prem) portrays the life of a shunned woman, Pushpa. Although she pleads and begs her husband to let her remain with him even with the status of a servant, Pushpa’s husband and new wife are cruel, abusive and finally throw her out of her own marital home. With tattered clothes and scarcely any belongings, Pushpa returns bare foot to her village where her mother’s disappointment adds to her sense of disgrace. A woman’s value is highly dependent on her marital status, so if she is in a marriage, regardless of how abusive or unhappy, she remains a ‘respectable woman’. If she outlives her husband, she is seen as a curse who does not deserve to live with any luxury or adorn herself with anything remotely beautiful. If she can’t have children, well then she is simply not worthy as a wife or an individual in her own right. With this level of stigma, it’s no wonder a woman in that context would beg her husband to live off the scraps of food he throws away. If this is denied, it is no wonder so many women of that era committed suicide which was seen as a more noble act than continuing to live their life.
Following the disgraceful return to her village, Pushpa is tricked and sold to a brothel by her uncle. This is not uncommon when faced with poverty, young naive woman are often forced to trust male relatives who betray them. As a courtesan, Pushpa eventually falls in love with the one and only Rajesh Khanna (who can blame her for that?). She also befriends a little boy (neighbour) whose vindictive stepmother physically and emotionally abuses him. Pushpa makes up for not having her own children by nurturing the little boy, mothering him and finding great joy and comfort in attending to him. Sadly, when the boy is forbidden to spend time with a ‘shameless courtesan’, Pushpa allows her tears to flow.
On seeing her hurt and pain, on hearing the villagers speaking ill of this ‘fallen disgraced woman’, who is ‘polluting’ the neighbourhood where supposedly ‘decent folk’ live, Rajesh Khanna consoles her through this song. “Some people will talk” he sings “It’s their business to talk, leave all this lest the whole night passes in these useless things. It is the nature of things, that there is night after every day. You’re nobody here, even the Goddess Sita was slandered here. So why do your eyes go moist hearing the words of this world?”
Funny to think that long before I was born and before you, the reader were born…many women fought internal battles against the social construction and narratives about a woman’s worth. Perhaps some managed to outwardly challenge or fight against these norms. Some chose to end their lives, some chose to live submissively, others chose to rebel and became labelled as ‘witches’ burnt at the stake or confined to asylums.
I wonder how much has actually changed. I think we sadly have a long way to go before we can accept our self worth based on our own values. I’ve had to travel some rather painful journeys to now separate myself from the community where I once felt a sense of belonging. The way the world perceives us will change. The woman considered a misfit in this generation may be branded as genius in the next. All we can do for now is embrace our own truths, value our own beliefs and learn to critique the norms which create social judgement. Acceptance and Commitment Therapy is an interesting approach which looks at our values and encourages individuals to head towards the direction of our own values. When thinking of our lives in this way, we can look at ourselves and each other through compassionate lenses, and acknowledge that we are all on our individual journeys, some only beginning whilst others have travelled long distances towards their destination.
There are many versions of ‘Pushpa’s shame’ in this world even today. I hope one day every Pushpa will be able to hold her head up, respect her struggles and own her own truth without needing social validation or even a hero like Rajesh Khanna to console her. When I hear my daughter speak her mind and critique gender inequality despite her tender age….I pause and feel a sense of hope that indeed we are heading towards a future where women like Pushpa will be celebrated as heroes and valued as friends.
A Psycho-Social Perspective on South Asian Music 