Walking out of the bed and taking a look at my mom’s face, I don’t need a clock to guess the time I woke up. Today morning by the time I entered the dining hall rolling my eyes hard, I foundmom busy inspecting and arranging varieties of seasonal fruits on large plate that made me imagine a colourful fruit stall from any tropical country.
While she appeared to be quiet at my sight, I knew her mind was full of two things – the microscopic details of the chores to be performed exactly where and when over the day and her frustration with my waking up late for the past 26 years.
Honestly, I don’t think of any good reason has been spared by me in all these years to say in my defence. Though I don’t hope any standard piece of logic will work on her, and turn the table around me, I simply pulled a chair for myself. While my first attempt at munching on three-four fat grapes was treated with kind silence, I took the risk another time.
There Mom lost all her control, ‘Have you seen the time you woke up? Who do eat without washing their face? Have you any idea what’s today?’
Well, there’s no point, I am not getting a fruit salad bar for guessing the occasion right.
‘Don’t you know these are going for Savitri Puja? When did I raise you to be a girl like this? Even if you don’t care or understand the sacred traditions, at least show some respect to a day like this. Each married woman in every household is celebrating it today, I am keeping day-long fast for your Dad, have you lost faith in what all the society believes in? Savitri went after the Death, and brought her husband back to life. Now that’s how you keep faith and hold courage.’ Mom vented out her complete disappointment over a daughter like me.
Dad appeared and looked at me with a face that can be associated with presidential pardon, while stupid brother blurted out in his inimitable style, ‘She doesn’t need all these, her husband would like to be dead any day than surviving her for a lifetime.’
I can’t help wonder if there exists one Satyaban who I would love to follow in the face of Death. Maybe, he has been already captured by Death on his way, because honestly, I haven’t met one so far. Except the two three Bollywood dudes who write their partner’s name in Mehandi on their palm, post it on Instagram, tweet about their fasting plans for their wives in order to break the age old patriarchal celebration called Karwachauth which is equivalent to Savitri where women are expected to fast for their husband’s longer life.
In ancient times, I am sure Savitri then didn’t know the fun and thrill of being a woman in 21st century, with or without a husband. She didn’t have self-love or self-worth quote set as wallpaper to stay strong, independent, and believe in a life, say beautiful life even after the husband is missing.
She didn’t have a million followers on social media to keep her world still over-populated. She didn’t have Instagram to show the best version of herself to the world against all the odds. She didn’t have access to Twitter to make her voice heard by the world, and to feel wanted, desired, and respected as a widow even.
She didn’t have old friends connected through Facebook to stand by her in needs. She didn’t have the aim and urgency to live life, to check WhatsApp once in a while. She didn’t have tinder to try a better match in this birth itself.
She didn’t have Myntra and Naykaa delivered happiness at door step. She didn’t get enough notifications of cheap Europetour package for single women to get over anybody in the world. If Savitri lived in today’s time, this day would have been celebrated in a new way, different way, in a more equal way.
In a moment I am growing conscious imagining what if Mom reads my mind and gets a hint about my faith – with a twist. Today’s Savitri 2.0 needs Satyaban 2.0,a real progressive gentleman;who doesn’t have to fight against Death to claim her woman’s life back but to protect her woman from his own toxic masculinity; who keeps a day-long fast for his partner; longer and breaks the patriarchal traditions and fixed gender roles;who seeks not his woman’s submission before him, happily bows before her drive for world domination.
Or as I say, who just asks you not to follow him anywhere in this scorching heat even if he is taken by Death, and makes sure the air condition is working and his two user Netflix subscription is updated, food is delivered at the doorsteps; who like Gerry, before his death, leaves ‘Do This Do That P. S. I Love You’ letters for Holly to find hope, energy and positivity in life without him also.
Or, who asks his Savitri not to follow him but her own heart.
(Komal Sikha is a newbie in the writing world. She is born in Kolkata, lives in Bhubaneswar and holds a Master’s degree in English and Comparative Literature from Pondicherry Central University. She currently works with the Government of Odisha. (komal.sikha@gmail.com)