The Black Sheep

(Day 100 of 112)

Warning: Long Post

That’s me. Thank you very much. About an hour back, the uncle, aunt and grandmother would willingly have traded me for a more obedient, docile and annoyingly white sheep, whom they could have herded as they wanted. Unfortunately for them, they’re stuck with me – the kind who refuses to go where they want and insists on straying outside the boundaries.

So what I have I done that makes me black?

I asked…ask questions. Have been doing it since I was not more than 4 feet tall actually. But what else can I do huh? Nobody gives me satisfactory answers to my questions and I absolutely refuse to accept “don’t ask questions and do what we say” as suitable.

That my questions are most often to do with the ritualistic practices and blind acceptance of what the holy man says, is what troubles the family most. Even as a child I couldn’t do something unless I understood the logic and reason behind it. And so I questioned everything I was asked to do, right from the prayer (and if anybody understood the pandit mumbling away at full speed) to why I had to take the prasad in the right hand and even why, when someone passed away, did the women not go to the cremation grounds (this was generally met with a lot of shushes and frowns). And these are the milder questions I asked. I’m not even getting into the whole position of women in religion issue!

Today the blackness in me came to the surface because of the issue of death. Someone we know passed away (after a long illness and at least 80 years on the planet). Today was the 12^th day and the grandmother and aunt went to pay their respects etc. When they came back, they were carrying steel boxes (the kitchen-use kind) –one for each of them, and one for me (apparently getting married entitles me to all these kinds of things)! Additionally, I was also given an envelope with cash in it – in place of the usual saree that all the other women were given. Needless to say, I was thoroughly confused and more than a little embarrassed. I mean, someone had died. And there we were getting gifts and cash/sarees? Why? This was question one.

Next, the grown ups spent quite a bit of time (today and in the last week that I’ve been here) discussing how the deceased woman’s older son did not shave his hair off and how the younger one was doing it everyday, thus making it more of a fashion statement. I asked the question in my head (obviously) – What’s the big deal? Why the fuss about such a small thing? How does it matter? What’s the logic behind it anyway? The answers I got? (a) it’s what society expects (b) it’s been happening in our community forever (c) that’s what marwaris do (d) you talk too much (e) what’s the logic behind using a rolling pin to make rotis? (f) something about people not making fun of them by seeing a shorn head and knowing they are in mourning (this I refused outright because hair grows back and no one is as insensitive as to make fun as soon as someone dies).

Sigh. So yes. Dinner today was accompanied by a cynical and understandably bemused (and slightly frustrated) me. I mean, none of these people question what they do for even a moment. They just continue with what people have been doing for generations, irrespective of whether it makes sense in the 21^st century or not. All in the name of religion. From a doctrine and a philosophy, the religion is being turned into a ritualistic circus which no one understands. And worse, no one wants to understand. They just find it easier to follow the practices blindly without sparing a single thought to the why of it.

Anywhoo. I can go on and on about it, especially since I’ve just encountered several mumblings and grumblings from the grandmother about how studying psychology has ruined me, and how this was probably why girls weren’t educated too much.

I think my grandfather just had another heart attack in heaven.

PS: This rant seems appropriate for a momentous event like writing 100 posts in a row na?