The Week Magazine....Lifestyle

April 23, 1997

The Married Widows

These unfortunate women in Bihar have been dumped by their husbands, families and society. But some are fighting on

FORTY years of pain and misery flash in Manarauti Devi's eyes. She is 55 and the harsh winter of life promises no respite. In her dull existence the only colour is provided by the sindoor, the vermillion that streaks through her hair. It symbolises her hope. And her humiliation.

Manarauti is a 'married widow' of Rohtas district. One of the many women of the backward areas who have had to pay for the misfortune of being abandoned by their husbands.

Married off when she was barely 15 to Ram Bilas Singh of Sikarian village, young Manarauti slid from one calamity to another. A month after her wedding, she was informed by her in-laws that Ram Bilas had died in a train accident. As per custom, she was told, his shradh (funeral ceremony) was performed on the 13th day. Manarauti did not believe them: she had a hunch that Ram Bilas was alive. "I protested about the ritual but I had to succumb to pressure from the family," she says.

For the past four decades her family and villagers have treated her as a widow and they want her to live like one. She refuses to oblige them. Over these years Manarauti has continued to wear sindoor, earning the wrath of her family and village elders. They call her a badchalan aurat (characterless woman).
"My husband's younger brother tortured me for using sindoor," she says. "He was after my husband's property." She filed a case in the civil court at Sasaram and won a favourable verdict three years ago. She later sold the 25 bighas, her husband's share, and moved to her father's village in Gamahrian.

Manarauti claims that her husband returned to her three years ago, at Sikarian. "He came as a yogi to beg grain and clothes to achieve his 'final liberation' " She says. She persuaded him to shed his yogic existence and live with her, but he still takes off now and then. Her brother-in-law refuses to acknowledge Ram Bilas's return. "He is not my brother but a fraud," says Hira Singh of the man who returned. "She made him stay with her only to fulfill her sexual desire."

Manarauti is one to the hapless women of the Gangetic plains of eastern Uttar Pradesh and western Bihar whose husbands deserted them to become yogis. Motijhari's husband Raghubansh Tiwari left home in Karmanin village of Rohtas after coming under the Gorakh cult's charm. He returned to her five years ago to beg for alms, she says. "He requested me for alms so that he could achieve his 'liberation'," says. "I pleaded with him to come back to me but he refused."

Tiwari's nephew Girija Nandan is flabbergasted. He says his uncle died 30 years ago and his name has long been deleted from the voter's list. Asked about Motijhari's claim about meeting her husband, Girija Nandan says, "When I asked him he told me that he was not my aunt's husband." Sriram Tiwari of Karmaini adds another twist to the strange story. "Raghubansh was my childhood friend and the yogi who came to the village for begging was none other than he," he says.
LIFE is tough for the vivahit vidhwas (married widows). Shunned by their family and ridiculed by the villagers they cling to fading memories and a hope that they will one day be reunited with their husbands.

The men often walk out of their homes because of domestic disputes. "My husband was tortured by his brother because he was an educated unemployed youth," says Manarauti. Adds Motihari, "My husband worked as a casual labourer in a colliery. One day he told his father that he wanted to start a business. He was chided and left the house to become a yogi."

The yogis wander the Gangetic plains in orange robes, carrying the sarangi, astringed instrument, and describe the world as maya (illusion). Each yogi is supposed to roam the villages and beg for alms for 12 years. "In the final week of the 12th year he has to collect alms from his wife, addressing her as 'mother'. One who succeeds in getting alms from his wife achieves salvation," says Chandan Kumar Pandey who deserted his wife nine years ago to become a yogi.

Chandan was a class nine student when a thrashing by his father provoked him to leave the house. "I was married at the age of 10," he recollects. "A yogi came to my village. When I narrated my woes to him he suggested that I become a yogi."
Abhay Chaudhary had similarly left his family 35 years ago. "I was married at the age of 14," he says. "I used to watch football and neglected the farms. One day my elder brother beat me up and I left the house in protest." Ten years ago Abhay returned to his wife-not for alms but as a family man. "I was happy to learn that she had married off our only daughter," he says.

People of the area consider the yogis disciples of Lord Gorakhnath who had preached that salvation could be attained only by leaving one's family and surviving on alms. As per the cult's codes a yogi must deposit 450 kilos of grain, cloth and metal collected as alms to its head-quarters at Gorakhpur in Uttar Pradesh. "One has to deposit all these within 12 years; those who fail will be condemned to beg all their life," says Chaudhary. The cult prohibits yogis from staying in a house while begging in the village. "We have to sleep under the sky," says Chaudhary. Most yogis are a hit with women who assemble in large numbers to listen to their melodious songs. Some of the women are so overwhelmed that hey give their gold and silver ornament to the yogis.

"Most of the [yogis] sell whatever they collect and lead a colourful life," charges Alakh Rai of Nokha village. According to him some of them even practised black magic and hypnotised the audience. "I am looking for a particular yogi who got my daughter killed by practising black magic," he says. While the yogis lead a life of their choice, the women they have abandoned are hit the hardest. "In my husband's absence I had to face a number of problems," says Devmuni Devi of Khairahi village whose husband Jagannath Rai deserted her in 1972. "My in-laws were bent on declaring him dead after he left and asked me not to use the sindoor. I refused to oblige them because I knew he had left the house after his father refused to give him money to start business."

Manarauti Devi suggests that instead of harassing the abandoned women, the society should help them get remarried. 'I desperately wanted to be a mother but my desire was never fulfilled," she says. Vindhyachal Singh of her village is opposed to the idea. "It will be against the Rajput custom to allow a woman to remarry," he says. Villagers like him are influenced by the story of King Bharathari Hari that is regularly dramatised. The drama details how the king was made a yogi by Gorakhnath and begged for a dozen years to attain salvation.

Villagers like Vindhyachal Singh may be zealous to guard a tradition but Mahant Avaidnath, the head to the Gorakh cult (which he prefers to call the Nath sect) calls these yogis frauds. The Mahant, who is a BJP member of Parliament, is certain that some Muslim men are out to make a fast buck and to lure vulnerable Hindu women. "Some of them know beautiful songs of the Hindu religion. Women whose husbands have deserted them are falling victim to such yogis," claims a disciple of Avaidnath.

The Mahant gives a warning: "These people have nothing to do with the cult. I have instructed my men to beat up such yogis if they are seen in the around Gorakhpur," He also said that not a single yogi had deposited a kilo of grain or other material at the headquarters. Some villagers consider the Mahant's views politically-motivated. Says Ram Ekbal Rai, "It is rubbish to say that all the yogis are Muslims." He alleges that the Mahant has been benefiting from the material deposited by the yogis at the ashram in Gorakhpur.

Abhay Chaudhary too is furious at the mahant's claim. "I have personally deposited the material with Avaidnath several times. There is a register with him in which our deposits are listed." He adds that there are 14,000 yogis in the village around Gorakhpur. He himself knew hundreds of them. "No one is a Muslim."

The arguments and counter-arguments will continue. The mahant may even score a few political points. But the married widows of Rohtak are not interested in the rhetoric. They only want their husbands back.

KANHAIAN BHELARI

Not just star struck
This 35-year-old expert systems programmer of astrological software is a diviner with a difference

Did you know that Newton spent the last decade of his life studying astrology? Or that Maharishi Parasara, the author of the classical book on astrology, knew before-hand that if he had sex with a woman at a certain woman at a certain time he would beget a son of extraordinary intelligence? Interestingly,he, a Brahimin, made love to a boatman's daughter. The offspring was the sage Vyasa of Mahabharata fame.

E.K. Dhilip Kumar, an astrologer 'with a difference', has many such stories on file. "These just go to show the hoary traditions of Indian astrology," said Dhilip, 35. Dhilip doesn't believe he can predict the entire future of an individual with full accuracy. "At best, astrology is like a road sing. It prepares you for the road ahead," he said. "Those who read the road sign are always at an advantage. Those who don't might still survive but won't have a smooth ride."

This is not the only thing that sets Dhilip Kumar apart from others of his ilk. His predictions, which depend a slot on his computer, are all about the 'minutes of calculation' and rarely involve face reading. The clients are more often than not informed of the prediction by post.

Instant predictions can only be very general but these are popular because most of the clients are impatient, he said. "More detailed predictions take time." Astrology was never Dhilip's first choice of profession. Born in Kannur, Kerala, and brought up in Chennai, he is the son of a baker and restaurateur. his father was quite knowledgeable in astrology and used to make predictions free. "His mental calculations were done even faster than a computer," recalled Dhilip.

But this initially didn't rub off on his son, who had doubts about whether astrology was 'a rational science'. He still believes that astrology is only a guide and not a 100 per cent predictive science. "Astrology is only a road sign on the pot-holed road of life."

After finishing his M.Sc. in Botany from Presidency College in Chennai, Dhilip started dabbling in palmistry. meanwhile, he enrolled for a diploma course in NIIT, where he excelled in his batch. This landed him a job with the institute in 1985 and proved to be a turning point. "NIIT posted me at Tiruchi, where the manager happened to have Linda Goodman's book on sun signs.I devoured the book and made some small experiments of my own," said Dhilip.

For instance, he learnt that the air signs Gemini, Libra and Aquarius are very intelligent signs. "While assessing the tests turned in by the students, I found it to be quite true," said Dhilip. "I felt more and more that there was some logic behind it." He also read books like Hindu Predictive Astrology by astrologer B.V. Raman.

Soon Dhilip acquired 'local' computer software and after practising making the astrological charts of his friends he set up a commercial establishment in 1989, which offered computer printouts of horoscopes. "When people came to get their horoscopes printed, they would ask me for some impromptu readings and I would oblige,' he said.

Dhilip then began applying the rules of astrology as stated in the classical book Brihat Parasara Hora Sastra by Maharishi Parasara. By repeated trial and error he rejected the rules that did not work. He believes that astrologers who go just by the date of birth and nakshatra (star) of a person are ignorant of the rules in the Parasara Hora Sastra. He maintains that forecasts using only the birth date and star only give general characteristics like appearance, behaviour, etc.-something which might be common to those born on the same day.

Some specific rules, he said, applied only to certain individuals and not universally. Why this was so might have been forgotten along with a lot of our astrological traditions. "If the disappearance of the guru-shishya tradition resulted in many gaps in the knowledge that came down the ages, the cryptic Sanskrit in which the classics were written only added to the difficulty."

India astrology has four main sources- Brihat Parasara Hora Sastra, Jaimini Sutra, the presna system and Krishnamurthy padathi. Jaimini Sutra, authored by Maharishi Jaimini, dates back to Mahabharata times and deals with problems relating to marriage, profession and children. "By combining the Parasiri and Jaimini systems, one can give an accurate picture of the future possibilites," said Dhilip.

The presna system is based on the horoscope cast when a question is put by the client and the Krishnamurthy padathi was founded by the late Prof. K. S. Krishnamurthy. "In terms of practical application, three theories of life can be distinguished. One, life is predetermined. Two, it is determined by one's own free will, and three, the middle path, which is favoured by Indian astrology," explained Dhilip. He believes that astrology only indicates potential and cannot give exact predictions except when all the planetary indications point to the same possibility.

DHILIP went professional in 1994, though he had earlier started writing regular columns in astrology magazines like Raman's The Astrology Magazine. He wrote the monthly prediction column for a year from September 1994. But he was not very happy doing it since "it had to be too general". Around this time Dhilip got the opportunity to visit Maharishi Mahesh Yogi's ashram in Holland. He was more disillusioned than delighted with the exposure. "The emphasis was on costly pariharams (atonement rituals) than on astrology per se," he said.

Back in India this expert 'systems programmer of astrological software" opened the DIPA (Dhilip's Institute of Professional Astrology) to teach astrology through correspondence, both to beginners and to the initiated. The institute, which has one of the largest astrological computer programs, offers a three-month certificate course and a one-year diploma course.

Dhilip has two MBA graduates to help him out with the business consultations, which form a major of his work, and a couple of part-time astrologers. Dhilip's wife Kalpana is the proprietor of DIPA. "My charts indicated that I would never be successful if I started any business, while my wife's horoscope indicated that she would be very successful in business," he explained.

Dhilip has two children - six-year-old Deepak. "I have never cast the horoscopes of my own children because I feel I will be very subjective," he said. But there is nothing subjective about the data bank of more than 7,000 horoscopes he has build up. At present he is busy collecting horoscopes of people belonging to different profession and researching the question why certain planetary positions make a person act in a particular manner.

Dhilip is guided a little by numerology is not a fool-proof science, but can certainly improve thins," he claims. "For instance, my phone number, 4330764, adds up to 9, which is the lucky number of my wife," he said. "And the business has been very successful." he also believes in the maxim, 'Well begun is half done.' "So one should seek out the good muhurtam (auspicious time) before one starts on a new venture.

Another area in which Dhilip has faith is gemology. Lucky gems do have a meaning, according to him. "Let's say mercury, which denotes activity, is weak for an individual. If he wears an emerald (which is the stone for mercury), the planetary vibrations are induced, and the person becomes more active. Colours do have to say in our lives," he insisted.

Right now his priority is to build up his institute and encourage research into the various aspects of astrology. He has also started a library which boasts a collection of 150 books on astrology, numerology, palmistry, gemology and also spirituality. And when he is not at his computer he has a huge correspondence to get through.

E. VIJAYALAKSHMI

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