About once every five minutes an incident of domestic violence is reported in India, under its legal definition of "cruelty by husband or his relatives"- The BBC 2014.
I go down to the beach every morning and every night. Small Vagator in Goa. It is one of the more secluded beaches of Goa, boasting beautiful sunsets and pristine waters. I like to roll out my towel or sit in one of the beach chairs and order a mango lassi.
Every day women come around persistant on selling you bindis, henna, threading, coconuts, jewels, sarees... pretty much whatever you want. Sometimes I pretend that I am sleeping so they won't question me because I really don't want any of their trinkets. Other times I have to say "no" quite aggressively, if it seems like they are swindling. This was not the case with Kali.
All of these women are working very hard. Most of these girls come to the beach for the season from their villages, for the "on" months. They sell things, perhaps even set up a shop, while their husbands work as labor hands nearby. The ages of these vending ladies is generally between 18-34, I did a bit of research. I have worked with three beach vendors so far, one gave me henna, another a foot massage and lastly Kali and her crew who would have threaded off all of my hair if I let them.
I chit-chatted with all of them, and though their stories were unique, there was a stroke of familiarity in them all. Arranged marriages, abusive husbands, alcohol and no say in the matter. Kali's story hit me the hardest.
It's really interesting that this girl's name is Kali. Kali means "She Who Is Black” or “She Who is Death” in hindi. It also means breaker of ignorance. Kali is a goddess with many arms and who wears a belt of severed heads around her waist. The point though, is that she is the breaker of ignorance. Although you will not see posters or statues of Kali in temple, she is one of the most worshipped goddesses in hinduism.
The first time that I met Kali she was very skiddish. I said that I wanted to get my eyebrows threaded and that I had never done it before. She happily obliged, but would get up and walk away every few minutes. I quickly realized that there were patrol men walking the beaches and that her actions were connected to theirs. The lassi walla told me that there was no solicitation allowed on the beach, that was why Kali was running around. These women were offering their services illegally. Though the punishment of 1200 rupees ($20) and an hour being lectured didn't seem that bad to me, this is a lot for them.
In between her occasional disappearances I got to know her a bit better. How old she was: 27, arranged marriage: yes, kids: 3, happy: debatable. She explained that she was able to provide these services of threading and hair braiding, but if she herself were to have any of these things, she would be disowned by her husband and village. Sadly, Kali disappeared and didn't come back. A bit later, and a bit concerned, I learned that she had been taken by the patrol. I paid her friends what I felt was reasonable and asked them to give her the money.
Today I went back to the same spot, hoping that Kali would be there. I felt partially responsible for her getting into trouble. Thankfully Kali found me at the beach. She remembered everything that I told her. My name, what I was doing, why I was there. I knew that I was not the first customer that she had wooed but it didn't matter. I actually enjoyed talking with her. I let her finish her job, she insisted saying that she could hardly sleep knowing that she had only done half the work. I told her it was fine, and that I was just glad that she didn't get into too much trouble.
After Kali was done with the work, she sat at the end of my beach chair and hunched over my legs. She placed a bindi in the center of my eyebrows, indicating that I was married. She told me how she wished that she could wear a bathing suit on the beach, she wished she could shave her legs and do her eyebrows. She told me how she wished her skin was whiter and how she hopes that her daughter will get to choose her husband. I asked her again if she was happy, she proceeded to tell me that she lived a hard life, but it was for her children. She said "...every woman in my village has the same or similar story, we have no voice. We do what our husbands tell us, and they leave us for other women, but we can not go, we can not say anything. I have to be happy." Kali was only 16 when she was arranged for marriage. Kali is the same age as me. She said to me "My body is the same as yours, maybe a little bit different color, but I should wear the same as you if I want." Of course when I suggest that she do that, she told me she would be killed and laughed. Kali says she has to be happy, I interpret the alternative is that she would be absolutely miserable. Despite the hard lives that these women live, they smile, they laugh and they dance.
I asked Kali, if there was one thing in the world you could do, what would it be? She answered quite simply: "Choose my husband." Such a smart girl, speaking english quite well and so beautiful. When she showed me the scars on her head and her arms that her husband gave her with a broken glass bottle while he was drunk, I shuddered. I simply pulled her into my arms and told her I was sorry. She asked if I would bring this photo of us to the market tomorrow. I promised I would buy something from her shop.
Normally I don't pay any mind to beach peddlers but Kali was kind, and clearly was doing this not only to earn some cash, but to learn about the ways of the world that exist outside of her small village in Maharastra.
In other places like Central or South America I just wave them away, because normally they are men and they are not interested in anything but your money. In Goa, it feels different. The women are charming and of course their success depends on it. However, even after a transaction, they expect to sit and chat with you for another hour and seem very disappointed when you leave. Your wallet is always still there when you go. These women love to learn! They want to know what the world is like, what your life is like, they want to understand how it is possible to have a choice so that they can teach their daughters. You can see the wonder and enchantment in their eyes. Things are changing if it is up to them.
After I left Kali I started to ponder more the question of how could I help. Would ignorant Western thinking of divorce and self-defense or women's rights only make her more vulnerable to attack by her village and her husband? I don't know. I have to think about this some more.
I knew there was a lot of domestic violence in India, but it seemed so distant from the Sadhus and yogis in Rishikesh, or the colorful sarees and fragrances of Delhi. There are lots of people working hard to empower women, to educate women and to help them understand their fundamental human rights. The most difficult feat in overcoming this issue is reach. Some places are so remote and so technologically disconnected that it takes so much longer to relay any message. Tradition, dowry, machoism and arranged marriage are alive and well in the remote villages of India. I hope that Kali's story will help more to understand. She was the breaker of ignorance for me.
I go down to the beach every morning and every night. Small Vagator in Goa. It is one of the more secluded beaches of Goa, boasting beautiful sunsets and pristine waters. I like to roll out my towel or sit in one of the beach chairs and order a mango lassi.
Every day women come around persistant on selling you bindis, henna, threading, coconuts, jewels, sarees... pretty much whatever you want. Sometimes I pretend that I am sleeping so they won't question me because I really don't want any of their trinkets. Other times I have to say "no" quite aggressively, if it seems like they are swindling. This was not the case with Kali.
All of these women are working very hard. Most of these girls come to the beach for the season from their villages, for the "on" months. They sell things, perhaps even set up a shop, while their husbands work as labor hands nearby. The ages of these vending ladies is generally between 18-34, I did a bit of research. I have worked with three beach vendors so far, one gave me henna, another a foot massage and lastly Kali and her crew who would have threaded off all of my hair if I let them.
I chit-chatted with all of them, and though their stories were unique, there was a stroke of familiarity in them all. Arranged marriages, abusive husbands, alcohol and no say in the matter. Kali's story hit me the hardest.
It's really interesting that this girl's name is Kali. Kali means "She Who Is Black” or “She Who is Death” in hindi. It also means breaker of ignorance. Kali is a goddess with many arms and who wears a belt of severed heads around her waist. The point though, is that she is the breaker of ignorance. Although you will not see posters or statues of Kali in temple, she is one of the most worshipped goddesses in hinduism.
The first time that I met Kali she was very skiddish. I said that I wanted to get my eyebrows threaded and that I had never done it before. She happily obliged, but would get up and walk away every few minutes. I quickly realized that there were patrol men walking the beaches and that her actions were connected to theirs. The lassi walla told me that there was no solicitation allowed on the beach, that was why Kali was running around. These women were offering their services illegally. Though the punishment of 1200 rupees ($20) and an hour being lectured didn't seem that bad to me, this is a lot for them.
In between her occasional disappearances I got to know her a bit better. How old she was: 27, arranged marriage: yes, kids: 3, happy: debatable. She explained that she was able to provide these services of threading and hair braiding, but if she herself were to have any of these things, she would be disowned by her husband and village. Sadly, Kali disappeared and didn't come back. A bit later, and a bit concerned, I learned that she had been taken by the patrol. I paid her friends what I felt was reasonable and asked them to give her the money.
Today I went back to the same spot, hoping that Kali would be there. I felt partially responsible for her getting into trouble. Thankfully Kali found me at the beach. She remembered everything that I told her. My name, what I was doing, why I was there. I knew that I was not the first customer that she had wooed but it didn't matter. I actually enjoyed talking with her. I let her finish her job, she insisted saying that she could hardly sleep knowing that she had only done half the work. I told her it was fine, and that I was just glad that she didn't get into too much trouble.
After Kali was done with the work, she sat at the end of my beach chair and hunched over my legs. She placed a bindi in the center of my eyebrows, indicating that I was married. She told me how she wished that she could wear a bathing suit on the beach, she wished she could shave her legs and do her eyebrows. She told me how she wished her skin was whiter and how she hopes that her daughter will get to choose her husband. I asked her again if she was happy, she proceeded to tell me that she lived a hard life, but it was for her children. She said "...every woman in my village has the same or similar story, we have no voice. We do what our husbands tell us, and they leave us for other women, but we can not go, we can not say anything. I have to be happy." Kali was only 16 when she was arranged for marriage. Kali is the same age as me. She said to me "My body is the same as yours, maybe a little bit different color, but I should wear the same as you if I want." Of course when I suggest that she do that, she told me she would be killed and laughed. Kali says she has to be happy, I interpret the alternative is that she would be absolutely miserable. Despite the hard lives that these women live, they smile, they laugh and they dance.
I asked Kali, if there was one thing in the world you could do, what would it be? She answered quite simply: "Choose my husband." Such a smart girl, speaking english quite well and so beautiful. When she showed me the scars on her head and her arms that her husband gave her with a broken glass bottle while he was drunk, I shuddered. I simply pulled her into my arms and told her I was sorry. She asked if I would bring this photo of us to the market tomorrow. I promised I would buy something from her shop.
Normally I don't pay any mind to beach peddlers but Kali was kind, and clearly was doing this not only to earn some cash, but to learn about the ways of the world that exist outside of her small village in Maharastra.
In other places like Central or South America I just wave them away, because normally they are men and they are not interested in anything but your money. In Goa, it feels different. The women are charming and of course their success depends on it. However, even after a transaction, they expect to sit and chat with you for another hour and seem very disappointed when you leave. Your wallet is always still there when you go. These women love to learn! They want to know what the world is like, what your life is like, they want to understand how it is possible to have a choice so that they can teach their daughters. You can see the wonder and enchantment in their eyes. Things are changing if it is up to them.
After I left Kali I started to ponder more the question of how could I help. Would ignorant Western thinking of divorce and self-defense or women's rights only make her more vulnerable to attack by her village and her husband? I don't know. I have to think about this some more.
I knew there was a lot of domestic violence in India, but it seemed so distant from the Sadhus and yogis in Rishikesh, or the colorful sarees and fragrances of Delhi. There are lots of people working hard to empower women, to educate women and to help them understand their fundamental human rights. The most difficult feat in overcoming this issue is reach. Some places are so remote and so technologically disconnected that it takes so much longer to relay any message. Tradition, dowry, machoism and arranged marriage are alive and well in the remote villages of India. I hope that Kali's story will help more to understand. She was the breaker of ignorance for me.
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