In India, a recent incident in Rajasthan state of a young widow’s ritual self-immolation upon her husband’s funeral pyre has raised before the public eye burning issues of the individual’s rights in a democratic society. Do democratic governments have the power or the right to legislate thought? Are there no circumstances, for instance, when an adult may select death over life and obtain society’s consent to depart from this world?
Indeed, terminally-ill patients in Holland are granted the right under specified circumstances to opt for a voluntarily-induced death, a practice known as euthanasia. And California is preparing for a statewide public referendum in which euthanasia, popularly called ‘the Right to Die’, is one of the issues left for the voters to decide.
But in present-day India, considered to be the world’s largest democracy, matters are decided differently. The nation’s modern-educated elite, long sensitive to foreign (especially Western) opinion and values, reacted to 18-year old Roop Kanwar’s act of conviction and the subsequent ground swell of public support in Rajasthan on her behalf with their own campaign attacking sati as the age-old option for Hindu widows is called.
To the accompaniment of great political fanfare and harsh rhetoric in the nation’s English press, Indian Parliament with virtually no debate last December passed the Sati (Prevention) Bill. This draconian piece of legislation, openly formulated to stifle dissenting opinion and compel mass obedience, has since been stirring doubts even among the community of women’s rights activists who were the first to clamour for harsher anti-sati measures. Especially frightening to the central government is the spectre the affair has raised of state and village-level resistance to Hew Delhi’s authority to legislate social laws contrary to established religious beliefs at a time when separatist movements in the Punjab and elsewhere are already straining India’s national integrity.
Kanwar, by all accounts a devout Hindu, was by Indian standards well-educated and had been married to Mal Singh only eight months when Mal abruptly took ill and died. Roop Kanwar is reported to have been engaged in her daily prayers at the moment when her husband’s lifeless body was brought before her. With no outward show of sorrow, she completed her prayers before calmly revealing her intention to grieving family members; to unite her soul with that of her husband’s.
Her relatives wished to dissuade her, but she would not listen to them. A number of village elders and religious specialists came to test her. According to Hindu texts seldom is a widow empowered with the truth, or sat, that makes her a sati. Convinced by her inner presence and conviction, they gave their consent with blessings, and withdrew.
That September morning, Roop Kanwar slowly changed into her ‘bridal finery and toured Deorala village for the last time, walking at the head of her own funeral procession. In her hands she held a coconut, symbol of life. For fifteen minutes, she circumambulated the pyre. Said one witness, emoted In an Indian newsmagazine: “We kept telling her that it was getting late and the police might arrive but she signaled us to be patient. Then she climbed on to the pyre and her husband’s head was laid in her lap.”
Awed by Roop Kanwar’s courage and conviction, hundreds of her friends and neighbors paid reverence and stood back as Mal Singh’s 15-year old younger brother stepped forward to light the pyre. According to witnesses, her expression remained serene even as flames were enveloping her. Within hours, it was all over. But the controversy ignited by this heroic and idealistic woman continues to burn, and is unlikely to be soon forgotten.
The incident might have attracted but little attention in India, where sati, although technically illegal, enjoys wide respect among this nation’s half-billion or so Hindus. But urban-based women’s rights groups raised a public outcry and pressed the authorities to take drastic action.
Their concern, a genuine one, had to do with documented abuses in the past when in some instances widows were alleged to have been forced either physically or by social pressure to mount their husband’s funeral pyre. By all accounts, the plight of widows in India is a sorry one, and newly-formed women’s groups have taken the lead in a struggle for justice.
The authorities hesitated for two fateful weeks, by which time nearly a half-million Hindu pilgrims had quietly ‘voted with their feet’ by visiting Deorala village to pay respect to the spirit of Roop Kanvar, who is popularly considered to have attained the station of a goddess. Said one witness quoted in the Indian press; “She was a woman who believed her husband was a god and there could be no life for her without him.” Another, a widow who was present at the sati, reflected thus: “I often wonder why I didn’t go with my husband ten years ago. This is because she had bhakti (the power) and I didn’t. The call comes from God.”
The gulf separating popular belief and modern-educated opinion could scarcely be greater. To grass-root village Hindus, the sati of Roop Kanvar was a further confirmation of scripture. But to the nation’s Western-oriented elite, it appeared as a “ghastly practice” that “brought shame to the entire country”. Allegations circulated in the press that the whole incident was a hoax staged to cover up dark misdoings, with the added incentive of favorable publicity and eventual profits.
To demonstrate that it meant business, the Government rounded up nearly 100 people from Deorala and vicinity, from the boy who lit the pyre to the barber whose ritual task was to shave the heads of male family members in mourning, and put them into jail or juvenile home. Roop Kanwar herself, however, was already beyond the reach of the law.
After a brief, one-sided debate, Indian Parliament on December 15, 1987 passed the Sati (Prevention) Bill, which mandates:
Most disturbing of all, the bill contains a “special provision” so that the burden of proof is shifted from the accusers to the person accused.
In other words, those people who are merely accused under the new bill will be considered guilty until they can successfully prove themselves innocent.
The authorities here have had to drop charges and release all those held in association with Roop Kanwar’s Ball, since it was observed by India’s Supreme Court that they had been held under laws that had been passed only after the incident occurred. Perhaps there is yet hope for truly democratic institutions in India. But few are daring to speak out.
Trust in majority rule is the foundation-stone of democracy. It is precisely for such democratic ideals that millions of young people the world over, including women, have willingly laid down their lives, all to the great respect of the societies that they died defending. We Americans of the post-Vietnam era tend to forget this sometimes.
Motivated by an earnest desire to ‘keep up’ with the rest of the world, especially the governments of the elect in the so-called ‘Third World’ often end up throwing out the baby with the bath water in their drive to modernize. In the process, age-old cultural treasures are lost, including the very ideals that gave the society its cultural identity.
In a certain sense, even the highly-educated of India personally view America as a kind of rich and powerful heaven-on-earth, while publicly they scorn her. What things have we done to deserve such esteem?
Perhaps there is something for India to learn from the examples of Holland and California. And perhaps we Americana would do well to learn from Roop Kanwar’s example of living idealism. Our own integrity as a nation, and India’s as veil, could lie in the balance.