The saddest picture before me is Varalu in her bridal finery. Flowers in her hair, a dozen bangles in each hand, in a beautiful pink saree. Looking way younger than her thirty years.
She has been in finery since her husbands death, ten days ago. All of which will be rudely wiped away on the devasam function this Sunday, after which she will never be allowed glass bangles, or kumkum, or flowers in her hair.
Before her, I told her mother, Chinapaapakka that she needed to refuse to permit this. That in towns all this has now been bypassed. That to put her through this at her age was a crime. he mother was tearful, but she was firm that in a village it is not permissible. But she discussed with other women quoting me, and though they agreed with the logic, they said it would never be acceptable.
India has a long long way to go. In life Varalu' husband was of little use as he drunk away his life. But in death also he leaves her will many many permanent labels and marks.
In the personal and political the women's struggles are long drawn. Common collective struggles.
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