Love, Sex aur Dhokha

Finally finished reading Madhorubaagan by Perumal Murugan (‘One Part Woman’ in English). Yes, the Tamil book for which Perumal suffered a stinging smear campaign that hit the national headlines.  It set the nation’s conscience on fire and its self-ordained conscience keeper(s) ‘wanted to know’ if the freedom of speech and expression that the Indian Constitution granted its every citizen remained an unfulfilled dream.

An avoidable and unfortunate episode that Perumal agonisingly admitted, ‘killed the writer in him’! 

(Here's an article in the Caravan magazine that gives a good review of book and the controversy surrounding it.)

Four years after its publication in Tamil and an English translation later, a caste-based group in Namakkal (a small town in south Tamil Nadu) suddenly woke up to the contents of the book and accused the author of hurting the sentiments of their community. The group threatened him to withdraw his work from the public domain and burned copies of his book in public.

So, why was Perumal’s work catapulted into a cauldron of controversy?

Based on his research of oral traditions, the author states that a century back, there was a practice in the areas around Thiruchengodu (a temple town in Namakkal district) whereby a woman, on failing to mother a child through her husband, could bear a child through consensual sex with another man, a stranger, on the 14^th day of the car festival of the local temple. A child born through such an union would be accepted by the woman’s husband and his family as a child of the God.

Set in the cultural milieu of the early twentieth century, Madhorubagan is the story of one such loving ,but childless couple, Kali (husband) and Ponna (wife).  Twelve years into marriage and stung by the repeated taunts and cruel words of the other villagers on her inability to bear an offspring, Ponna decides to take the last resort to give Kali a child.  

It was this concept of consensual sex or niyoga that was at the crux of the controversy, with the protestors claiming that it showed women in bad light and was trying to ‘basxxxxise’ their community.

But is it really as blasphemous as it is made out to be?

In defence of Ponna and Perumal

Niyoga is not new to our society.   

It is common knowledge that it finds mention in the Mahabharatha. Some of the key characters in the epic – Karna, his brothers, the Pandavas, their father Pandu, and his brother Dhridharashtra – were conceived in this manner.

(In fact, the Mahabharatha is replete with examples of extraordinary births including those of Drona – who was conceived in a pot from Sage Bharadvaja’s semen , Kripa & Kripi – who were born among river reeds as a result of joyous ejaculation by Muni Sharadwan, Jarasandha – the evil king who was born in two halves to two mothers, the Kauravas- who were cut out from a lump of dead flesh their mother Gandhari delivered, and Dhristadyumna and Draupadi, who emerged from the sacrificial fire.)

Now, we could either choose to accuse Sage Veda Vyasa (or Perumal Murugan as in this case) of being a pervert, or we could celebrate him for his unparalleled imagination and his empathetic approach to human frailties. So, what is our pick? 

I think the answer lies in understanding the importance fertility and child-bearing have been given in our traditionally agrarian society.

Right from the days of the Indus Valley (or Indo Sarasvathi) Civilisation, Indians have expressed their awe of the life giving capacity of a woman. (Seals that depict a tree growing out of a woman’s womb have been unearthed in these sites.) Celebration of a woman’s fertility has thus remained an integral part of our culture through the ages. Even today, in most parts of India, puberty is a much-awaited milestone in a girl’s life and an occasion for grand celebrations among families.

Our fascination with procreation doesn’t stop there. Marriage ceremonies in this country are replete with fertility rituals and symbols. A simple thing as the ‘sindoor’ that the husband applies to his wife’s forehead, is one such explicit symbol, the colour red denoting fertility.   <Reference: Fertility rituals in Hinduism>.    

According to ancient Indian astrology, ‘bahuputra yogam’ or the fortune to bear many children was a key desirable in a woman. Conversely, inability to bear more children is also one of the reasons why a widow’s status is low in the socio-cultural hierarchy.

It turns out that ours is the only culture other than ancient Greece, where Gods are associated with sexuality, and also bear progeny. Lingam signifying the male creative power is manifested in the form of Shiva and the Yoni representing the female creative power is manifested as Shakthi in the Hindu pantheon.  In the Kamakhya temple in Guwahati, Assam, the Goddess appears in the form of Yoni, the female genital through which all living beings enter this world. In what is celebrated as ambubachi mela, this temple actually shuts down for three days in a year, when the Goddess is believed to be menstruating and needs her privacy.  

Even the presiding deity of Thiruchengode temple, after whom Perumal’s book is titled (Ardhanarishwara translates into Madhorubagan in Tamil), is a composite androgynous form of Shiva and Shakthi, a symbol of the sacred union exalted as the root of all creation.

Moreover, unlike many other cultures, which dictate celibacy for Godmen, ours actively propagated marriage and procreation, even among the men of God. The story goes that the eminent sage Agastya once found some men hanging upside down from a cliff on a high mountain. When he questioned them on their pitiable condition, the sages replied that they were actually his ancestors and were confined to this terrible fate because he, Agastya, had not embraced Grihasthashrama, the life of a householder. The sages requested Agastya to marry and beget sons, which was the only way the reverend sage could fulfil his duties towards them.

Child-bearing has thus been considered an essential duty to be rendered by every member of our society.

And one compelling reason for the significance attached to progeny and perpetuity in our society lies in our economy, and how it has evolved over the ages.

Farming and trading, the twin arms of our economy, have evolved as dynastic enterprises, which thrive on familial perpetuity. In an agrarian society, land ownership passes from father to son.   World over, societies have experimented with practices of polyandry (one woman in a relationship with many men) and polygamy (one man having a relationship with many women) with the intention of preserving dynastic succession.  Polyandry is still reportedly prevalent among some tribals (Todars of Ooty) in India, in parts of Nepal and even in some areas in India that border Nepal.

In my opinion, cognizance of this social milieu alone can help us appreciate Ponna’s predicament in the story and the solution her society offered her. To his credit, the author shows enormous sensitivity in portraying the grief of the protagonists and what inability to produce a progeny would have meant in an agrarian set-up.  

The protestors apparently wanted to hear none of this and confined themselves to questioning the wisdom in unearthing what they thought were defunct practices. They couldn’t have been more inaccurate!

Niyoga hasn’t disappeared from our society at all. It has only taken a new avatar - that of donor insemination. 

So, in all fairness, if the protestors found this method of conception objectionable, then they should well be staging dharnas outside all those fertility clinics in Namakkal that provide this treatment. (BTW, do these purists know that India is the largest destination for surrogate tourism in the world?)

In any case, the protests have only served to popularise the book. (I, for one, wouldn’t have read it otherwise.) The controversy has actually helped unearth a hidden gem in Perumal Murugan.   

The verdict

It’s a ‘Must Read’, a fine work on a socially relevant topic. Those who can’t relish it in its native language, go for its English translation (One Part Woman). It is available with all online retailers.

(The author has also brought out two sequels to this book; waiting to read them as well.)

BTW, wondering what, in heaven’s name, this blog has to do with its title, borrowed from Dibakar Bannerjee’s 2010 Bollywood flick? Well, I think these four words aptly capture Kali’s range of emotions in this book :)