Through this award-winning novel, the author has attempted to illuminate a lesser-known chapter of Meerabai’s life
Meera
By Debasree Chakraborti
Place: Chittorgarh
Inside the Chittorgarh Fort stands Bhavanamasi’s house. In the upstairs room of the stone-built house, Saanjh is standing by the window. Beside the window is a huge banyan tree, wrapped with red threads—clearly showing that the people here worship this tree as a deity. The tree seems to stand as a symbol of this ancient fort and its inhabitants. The presence of the black stone house beside the old banyan creates the image of a primal painting. The red threads shine brightly on that ancient canvas as symbols of the hopes and desires of the present-day people. From Bhavanamasi’s house, one can see almost the entirety of Chittorgarh.
Masi entered the room with tea and said, “Here’s your tea, and I’ve also made some achar-flavored chilli pakoras—see how you like them.”
Pratap was sitting in one corner of the room on a spread-out mattress. Masi placed the food on a wooden stand in front of him and sat down.
He said to Saanjh, “Beti, go ahead, taste it and see how it is.”
As she ate the pakoras and sipped her tea, Saanjh asked, “How long have you been here?”
Bhavanamasi replied, “It’s been at least eight hundred years. Probably more. I’ve heard the women of my family went with Queen Padmini in the act of self-immolation.”
Saanjh asked, “And Meerabai? What happened during her time?”
Bhavanamasi said, “Every family in this fort has recorded the history of Meerabai. My father’s family and my in-laws both lived inside this fort. For several centuries, both families have been witnesses to this history. You eat, and I’ll tell you about one special day in Meerabai’s life. Listen carefully.”
Meerabai’s influence on the women of Chittor was immense, because she was the first woman of the royal family who sat beside common people and……encouraged them. Among the girls of our village, many stories and ballads are still in circulation. Through these tales, many conversations between Meera and the common women of Mewar emerge. Each day, she would discuss a different topic. Rani-ma had such knowledge that even among present-day Rajput women it is rare. When asked about it, she would say that she had received her scriptural education from her grandfather, Rao Dudaji.
Right there, in Atabagh beside the Kumbhshyam Temple, Meerabai would sit with the women. One day, they were discussing marriage—how the institution of marriage came about, what its necessity was. Meerabai said that before the age of the Rigveda, there was no such thing as the marriage system. “Vivaha” means “to carry in a special way”—vi joined to many verbal roots, combined with ghanj. The institution of marriage was born out of two people living together in unity. In the bond of marriage, man became the controller of woman. But in tribal societies, the matriarchal system prevailed. In these matrilineal communities, there is also no permanent system of marriage. Women can choose their partners as they wish, and their children are known by their mother’s lineage. But in order to have permanent ownership over children and property, patriarchy arose in our society through marriage.
We have never considered these tribal people to be more advanced than ourselves, nor have we given them a place alongside us. Instead, we have oppressed them, defeated them, and relegated them to the lowest ranks of our society. And those among them who did not wish to accept our subjugation fled to take refuge in the deep forests of the mountains. The time for keeping them away with hatred is over. For the sake of our country, we must give them equal status in our society. In the name of Shri Krishna, we must unite.
Bhavanamasi paused for a moment, then said, “At that time, not only the women from various villages of Chittorgarh but also tribal girls from surrounding regions would come to the fort to hear Meerabai speak.”
Pratap said, “Behind each of Meera’s statements, there was always a deep ideal at work. From within society, she sought to remove the divisions of caste…”…wanted to. Otherwise, why would she even talk about the system of marriage? She understood that if all forms of caste discrimination were erased and Hindu society were united, it would become much more cohesive. And it was for this reason that she adopted this noble means of protecting India from foreign invasions.
Saanjh asked, “Masi, what else did Meerabai say about the institution of marriage?”
Bhavanamasi replied, “Meera’s ideas were far more advanced and modern than those of our own time. Every one of her words is still recorded in every household here. She used to say that the greatest problem in a woman’s life is childbirth—because the child must be a son. Even today, our society gives no place to girls. The birth of a daughter has never been celebrated in the scriptures. In matters of childbirth, a woman’s opinion holds no value. Here, a woman is not seen as a person but as a machine for producing sons.
Putrāt kriyate vāryā— ‘A wife is taken for the sake of a son.’
The scriptures also contain many provisions for abandoning a wife if she cannot bear a son. For two and a half thousand years, women have been used in this way. The Aitareya Brahmana says that the definition of an ideal woman is one who pleases her husband, gives birth to a son, and does not contradict her husband’s words. Again, in the Apastamba Dharmasutra, we find similar statements. It says that if a wife gives birth only to daughters, she may be abandoned after twelve years; a childless wife may be abandoned after ten years; and one whose children die in infancy may be abandoned after fifteen years. This is nothing but the politics of a patriarchal society. They have spread the poison of slavery into every pore of a woman’s being.”
The men of ancient times had already ensured that a woman would have no control over her own body.
They could almost see before their eyes the scene of Meerabai conversing with the women. Saanjh saw Meera fall silent for a while, as if lost in thought. Then she said, “In the Brihadaranyaka Upanishad, the sage Yajnavalkya has left many instructions for a man on how to keep his wife under control in married life:
Sa ced asmai na dadyāt kāmam evānam avakrīṇīyāt.
Sa ced asmai naiva dadyāt kāmamunā ṣaṣṭhyā bahā na pāpam iti atikrāme.”
Its meaning is that if a woman does not respond to the man’s sexual desire, he should try to win her over with gifts; if even then she does not respond, he should bring her under control by striking her with his hand or with a stick.
From this, it is clear that the men of ancient times had already ensured that a woman would have no control over her own body.
Seeing one girl crying, Meera said, “What’s the matter, Tithi? Why are you crying?”
Crying, the girl came to Meera, pulled aside her veil, and showed her shoulder. Meera saw a dark bruise there. The girl said, “You’ll find marks like this all over my body. Didn’t you just say that I don’t even have rights over my own body?”
Meera said, “Tithi, today itself you will go to the vaidya and start treatment. Such things should not be left unattended for long.”
The girl went back to her place. By this time, afternoon had passed and a gentle breeze was blowing. In the shade of the trees, people’s faces seemed to turn into little maps. Meera felt that if all these faces were joined together, they would form the map of all of India. Amid so much diversity, a single harmonious note was still playing.
Meera paused for a while and then said, “Even in our system of marriage, there exists male dominance. The custom of kanyadan that prevails in this society emphasizes the transformation of the girl from a person into an object. The father, as the representative owner, hands over this object in the form of a daughter to the prospective owner—the groom—complete with clothes, ornaments, and dowry. In this lies the hidden aspect of the girl’s social identity changing from daughter to bride.
Even in the marriage mantras, we have no right to utter them; all the mantras are recited only by men. This is a deep insult to us. But before these scriptures were composed, both men and women had the right to choose their sexual partners according to their wish. Even if a child was born from such a union, there was no concern about paternity, because children were known by their mother’s name.
Once, the sage Uddalaka’s son Shvetaketu saw a Brahmin approach and, grasping his mother’s hand, try to drag her away for sexual relations by force. At that moment, the son of Uddalaka…Shvetaketu became extremely angry. Then his father said to him, “My son, do not be angry—this is the rule; it is the eternal dharma. Women of all castes are like unclaimed land, open to all.”
From that time onward, Shvetaketu established the injunction of marriage and declared that a woman is solely for the enjoyment of her husband, and no one else has the right to enjoy her.
But the man’s right to keep multiple wives remained—he could take as many wives as he pleased. That is why the scriptures say:
“Samṛddham yasya kanīyāṃsa vāryā āsan bhūyāṃsa paśavaḥ”
—meaning, the man whose number of cattle exceeds the number of his wives is fortunate.
This society also gave men the right to have intercourse with as many courtesans as they wished. But where did so many courtesans come from? Even in present times, there are many courtesans—were they only the daughters of other courtesans, or did illegitimate daughters also become courtesans? Even otherwise, a daughter’s status was far below that of a legitimately born son. But if a father died without a son, the daughter was given the duty of rescuing the family by providing a son. In this way, the daughter’s son became the putrikā-putra (appointed son) of the maternal grandfather who had no sons.
As early as the first age of the Rigveda, there were scriptural provisions for this:
“Śāsadvahniduhitur nyaṅ gād vidvā ṛtasya dhīdhitaṃ sarparyan |
Pitā yatra dahituḥ sekam ṛjñanta saṃ śaghnyena manasā dadhanve”
I will now present to you two incidents from the age of the Ramayana. In present times, when a daughter is born, she is often abandoned. The same sort of thing happened in the Ramayana’s time. Sita was found by King Janaka in the furrow of the earth—this clearly means she was abandoned after birth. Many of you may not know that Rama had an elder sister named Shanta. After her birth, she was given away to a sage, in whose care she grew up. Later, she was married to another sage.
In his desire for a son, Dasharatha sought the help of his daughter Shanta. After eating the payasa (milk pudding) given by Shanta’s husband, Dasharatha’s wives became pregnant. I hope you can understand what the “payasa” signifies in this context without much difficulty… No. The very daughter whom Dasharatha had once abandoned was the one he later turned to in the hope of obtaining a son.
An elderly woman said, “In ancient times, girls had the right to choose their husbands. Through the svayamvara custom, she could select her own spouse.”
Meera said, “Even in our system of marriage, there exists male dominance. The custom of kanyadan that prevails in this society emphasizes the transformation of the girl from a person into an object
Meera smiled faintly and said, “The svayamvara custom was just another name for deceit and farce. The girl’s father would set certain conditions, and whichever suitor could fulfill them would become the girl’s husband. Here, the girl’s own wishes held no value. Many times, girls were even abducted from the svayamvara ceremony itself. In the Mahabharata, Amba loved King Shalva and wanted to place the garland around his neck. But Bhishma, arriving at the svayamvara, abducted the three daughters of the King of Kashi—Amba, Ambika, and Ambalika—and brought them to Hastinapur for their brother Vichitravirya. The wishes of the daughters were given no importance here.
There are many such incidents. After a groom was chosen in the svayamvara, the girl was handed over to the victorious groom along with numerous gifts as a form of varadakshina (bride price). A son born from the mother’s body grants his father immortality, but nowhere in the scriptures is it said that he can grant immortality to his mother or repay a “mother’s debt.” This is because doing so would increase the power and honor of the mother. Woman has been portrayed as a form of maternal power whose sole role is to bear sons, without enjoying any rights. In truth, it was to immortalize patriarchy that the authors of the scriptures declared that a father gains immortality through his son.
How daughters were degraded can be learned from the story of Yayati, Galava, and Madhavi in the Mahabharata. I always tell you to read the scriptures, and my reason for doing so is simple: these texts carry within them the history of their time. Reading them makes it clear that our social system has not changed in the least. Even now, to protect her father’s realm, a daughter may be forced to marry an old king. In the sacrificial fire of such marriages, thousands of dreams burn silently. No one can pay the price for those dreams and tears. Now, let me turn to the matter of Madhavi. Madhavi’s father, Yayati…
Unable to give the twenty-four thousand horses that Sage Galava had demanded, Yayati gave Madhavi to Galava, telling him that in exchange for Madhavi, he could collect the required horses from other kings. Galava sent Madhavi to three different kings. By each of them, Madhavi bore a son, and only then was she granted her freedom. In return for enjoying Madhavi, these kings gifted horses to the sage.
From this, it is clear that the right over a daughter’s body belonged to the father, not to the daughter herself. Yet no scripture condemned either Yayati or Sage Galava. What Yayati did was seen as the authority of his manhood, and as a woman, accepting it was considered Madhavi’s duty.
After her release, when Yayati told Madhavi to marry, she refused and instead went away to perform penance. But Madhavi’s story did not end there. When Yayati was on his way to heaven, he found that he had slightly less merit than required, so the gates of heaven would not open for him. Then, taking a share from Madhavi’s store of merit, Yayati was able to enter heaven.
From all this, we understand that for ages, women have been viewed as objects. Many of you are married and were wed without even knowing the meaning of the wedding mantras. Within those mantras too lies the humiliation of women.
In the Rigveda, regarding Surya’s marriage, there is a verse:
“turīyas te manuṣyajyāḥ” — “This man is your fourth husband.”
The original mantra is:
“Somaḥ prathamo vivide Gandharvo vivida uttaraḥ
tṛtīyo agniṣ copati turīyas te manuṣyajyāḥ”
Which means: Soma first married you, then Gandharva married you, your third husband is Agni, and the man who fathers your children is your fourth husband.
There is another mantra:
“Somo dadad Gandharvāya Gandharvo dadad Agnaye
Agnir mahyam atho imām saha putrai rayiṃ ca”
Which means: Soma gave the woman to Gandharva, Gandharva gave her to Agni, and Agni gave her to me along with wealth and sons.
Now you see why I tell you to become financially independent. For thousands of years, society has kept women at the level of livestock, and the first step to breaking all the chains of that society is… Financial independence. The next step is education. When a person is educated, they can understand the cause-and-effect behind every tradition and work to uproot it. The third step is to become skilled in the use of weapons, to be able to directly step forward in defense of the motherland.
That afternoon, after lunch, Bhavanamasi took Pratap and Sanjh up to the roof terrace. Sitting in the shade of a banyan tree, they gazed at the beauty of the whole of Chittor.
They were all lost in deep thought when Bhavanamasi began telling a story again.
She said, “I am speaking of something that happened almost five hundred years ago. Rana Sanga was marching to war against the Lodi Sultans of Delhi, and with him were the young men of every family in this fort. On that bright sunny day, thousands of soldiers stood with yellow turbans on their heads and swords in their hands. Each stood beside his horse, waiting. At the front stood Rana Sanga and the crown prince, Kunwar Bhojraj.
From the jharokhas of their homes, the women of the fort looked at the men they loved, knowing that soon they would have to bid them a final farewell. A final farewell indeed — for this was war against the Sultan of Delhi! The chances of them returning alive from such a terrible battle were almost nonexistent. With heavy hearts, they were saying goodbye to their husbands and sons.
At that moment, the sound of horns and kettle drums echoed from all sides. From the temple of the royal family’s kuladevi came the blast of the conch shell. The royal mother, Ratan Jhali, approached with her attendants and applied the victory tilak to the Rana’s forehead. After the Rana, she placed the victory tilak on the crown prince as well. Following the queen mother, the royal consorts — Kunwarbai, Dhanbai, and Karmetbai — came in full royal attire, performed the aarti for the Rana and the prince, and adorned them with the victory tilak.
Lastly came Mirabai. That day, Mirabai looked like a new bride — a head full of vermilion, a red lehenga, in her hands a lamp lit with ghee and camphor, a platter of fruits, and a small bowl of sandal paste and flowers. She stepped forward, applied the sandal paste of Giridharji to the prince, performed the aarti for him, and gave him Giridharji’s tulsi leaves and prasad.
That day, every woman in the fort saw fear in Mira’s eyes. The dark, ominous shadow of danger… Clouds had gathered on her face. It was as if she had received some premonition. She felt as though, just before going to the pyre, she was seeing her husband for the very last time.
When the welcoming ceremony was over, Rana-ji slowly set out on the path of war with his vast army. The sounds of the nakara drums and the war horns mingled together, echoing like a fierce battle cry.
Passing through Jorla Pol, Ganesh Pol, Bhair Pol, and Parlo Pol, they finally reached Gambhiri Pol. Beneath this gate flowed the Gambhiri River, and across it marched the massive army. On that day, it seemed as if every gate of Chittor was draped in the fortress’s banners.
That day, night’s darkness descended upon the fort of Mewar unusually quickly. In the dark of night, the clusters of stars in the sky seemed like Chittor’s soldiers. Every woman searched for her beloved among those stars.
At that moment, the sound of singing drifted from Meera’s palace. Hidden within that melody was the deep pain of separation. Meera began to sing:
“Sakhi, mero neend nasani ho,
Piyo ko panth niharat sigari,
Rain bihanī ho,
Jyu chātak ghan ku rote,
Machharī jimi pānī ho,
Meera bayakul birahani,
Sudh-budh bisrani ho.”
Meaning: O friend, sleep has left my eyes. All my time will pass waiting for my beloved, just as the pied cuckoo longs for clouds, and a fish longs for water. Thus, Meera, restless in separation, has lost all sense and awareness.
On that day, Meera’s song seemed to wrap the entire Chittorgarh in sorrow. After all, everyone’s loved ones had gone to battle. So each heart wept in grief.
What a magnificent melody that was — Aunt Bhavna found herself softly humming,
“Sakhi, more neend nasani ho…”
She left, singing as she went.
Pratap said, “Saanjh, if you can, spend a night in this fort, because a family like this—one that has witnessed the ongoing flow of Mewar’s history with their own eyes—can give you a wealth of information. Besides, spending a night in such an environment has a charm of its own.”
Saanjh had been used to travelling alone since childhood. During her school and college days, she had gone on many educational trips, and later too, driven by the urge to learn, she had rushed from one end of India to the other. So, she readily agreed to the idea of spending the night at Bhavna Masi’s house.
Saanjh said, “You should stay too—then it could be an extraordinary journey of the historical mind.”
Pratap said, “That would truly be wonderful. Over Bhavna Masi’s exceptional cooking, we could wander through an unknown chapter of history.” (Continues)
Click here for Part-1, Part-2, Part-3, Part-4, Part-5, Part-6, Part-7, Part-8, Part-9, Part-10, Part-11, Part-12, Part-13, Part-14, Part-15, Part-16, Part-17, Part-18, Part-19, Part-20, Part-21, Part-22,
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Debasree Chakraborti is a renowned novel writer of Bengali language. Based in Kolkata, West Bengal, India, she has done Master’s in Modern History from the Kolkata University, and authored some thirty books, mostly the novels, with historical perspective and themes. Her novel is ‘Maharaja Dahir’ that covers the history of Sindh from 662, the year of first attack on Sindh by the Arab armies till date, was published last year and translated by Nasir Aijaz into Sindhi language.
