by Bhakti Bapat Mathew
-India-
Motherhood has always been idolized in India. In most Bollywood movies, the mother of the protagonist is an ocean of love and sacrifice. She is usually portrayed as a sexless figure, (despite evidence to the contrary!), proud of her son and worshipped by her progeny. Postpartum depression was virtually unheard of in India until fairly recently. This was not because Indian women had superpowers that saved them from post-baby blues, but having a baby – strictly after marriage – was supposed to be the dream of every woman. It was unfathomable to India’s patriarchal society how a woman could be depressed after such a wish had come true.
The cover of Of Mothers and Others.
A new book published earlier this year seeks to redress this one-sided view of motherhood in India. The anthology Of Mothers and Others: Stories, Essays, Poems (Publisher: Zubaan India), edited by Indian author Jaishree Misra, was conceived at an event organized by the nonprofit Save the Children. At this event, Misra was presented with what she describes as “shocking pictures about the ongoing issue of maternal and child mortality in India.” When asked to make a pledge to their campaign, Misra promised to write a book that would highlight the problems faced by many mothers in India.
In the anthology, the celebrated feminist publisher and single woman Urvashi Butalia talks about her experience of being constantly asked about marriage and motherhood. Another author tells the story of the death of her child. And another describes the pain of being childless and the worrisome anticipation she endures. Of Mothers and Others explores issues of identity, abuse, surrogacy, and adoption.
Some of the essays in the anthology emphasize the disappointment, heartache, and betrayal that can accompany motherhood, while others reaffirm the unconditional love a mother or a grandmother can give. Many of the essays read like a piece of advice or a reassuring account shared by a friend. These essays are not merely pedantic, but intensely personal, and the publishers have made sure that readers will find the book deeply memorable.
The different voices and stories are perfect for generating greater awareness and for reaching out to a wide array of people, and not just mothers. In the following e-mail exchange, Jaishree Misra shares with me the genesis of the book and the wide range of personal stories detailed in it.
Why ‘motherhood’ and why now?
When each of us was asked to pledge something to [Save the Children’s] campaign, I promised to write a book that would highlight the problems faced by many mothers. Upon further consideration, I realized this would probably be a rather boring book, so I decided to pick the brains of the several author-friends I now have and produce an anthology on motherhood instead. That would mean much less work for me and a great way to explore the many different facets of this fascinating subject. Admittedly, the book that has emerged speaks largely from an educated, urban view, especially in the personal narratives, but fictional pieces like those by Kishwar Desai and Nisha Susan, as well as academic and journalistic essays by Humra Quraishi, Jai Arjun Singh and SAMA provide a much wider perspective. It’s largely an alternative look at motherhood, covering many subjects that are often left out of the general discourse around this subject.
How has your own experience been editing the book?
It was far more enjoyable than expected, actually. At first, I was apprehensive about working as an editor alongside such experienced and well-established writers as Manju Kapur, Namita Gokhale and Shashi Deshpande, among others, but everyone took on my request with an enthusiasm that was both exhilarating and touching. Even better, as pieces started coming in, I found that most were already so polished and perfect that I barely needed to do anything to them at all. I also had the very professional editorial support of Anita Roy at Zubaan, so, once the copy-editing was done, I relaxed completely, safe in the knowledge that professionals were in charge of the proofing, formatting and production. It was a great way to spend a gap between my own books, taking me into genres and subjects that I have so far shied away from. Best of all was the participative and interactive nature of the endeavor, so removed from the solitary, self-indulgent business of novel writing.
The book features the experiences and thoughts of well-known names like Shabana Azmi, Namita Gokhale and Shashi Deshpande. How did you and Urvashi Butalia go about gathering such an articulate group of authors?
Urvashi and I pooled our telephone books, essentially. I’ve made friends with a number of writers over the years, thanks mostly to the easy camaraderie of lit-fests. And Zubaan, obviously, has worked with many terrific authors over the years, many of whom Urvashi and Anita have nurtured themselves, so we had quite a glittering list of ‘possibles’ at our very first meeting. A small number of writers couldn’t manage the deadline because of their own writing commitments but, in that first week, we had about twenty affirmatives, after which we were joyfully on our way.
Could you describe some of the stories/experiences mentioned in the book, in brief?
The book is a delicious mix of fiction, non-fiction and poetry. I see it as a luxury box of assorted chocolates, each one carefully hand-crafted into a work of art. You finish one almost with reluctance to end it and then find you have yet another marvelous one awaiting you. All authors had been given free reign to choose their own genres and, initially, I was a bit surprised at how many who are renowned for fiction chose to write essays and personal narratives instead — perhaps something to do with the emotional ‘pull’ of a subject like motherhood. The most moving narratives for me were Manju Kapur’s, who wrote from her own experience of losing a child, and Shalini Sinha’s, who wrote about the tender relationship between her son, who has Down’s Syndrome, and her recently deceased mother. They must have been incredibly difficult pieces to write, but both writers recognized the importance of acknowledging the heartbreak motherhood sometimes encompasses.
Have you had any interesting experiences after the book’s publication, such as readers coming up to you with their own stories?
Our most successful piece was the one written by Urvashi about childlessness that went viral a few weeks after the publication of the book, finding a seemingly huge following among people who have made similar choices of remaining childless (or ‘child-free,’ as someone called it). The cyber-chatter on this subject was a real eye-opener to me regarding how far Indian attitudes have changed in the years I’ve lived in the West. I’ve received a number of emails from readers thanking me for this book but, of course, that gratitude should be firmly redirected to the writers who contributed such brilliant and unusual pieces.
In India, 200 mothers die out of every 100,000 live births annually. Why are our children and mothers so neglected?
It’s a more general issue, I think, afflicting societies in which tragedy is commonplace. I’m reminded of that line in ‘Hamlet’: ‘When sorrows come, they come not single spies but in battalions.’ It kind of explains to me the reason why we get inured to such ghastly statistics in India while, in the West, the death of a single child can occupy the media for days on end. We need to shock people out of their complacency and hopefully this book will go a small way in doing so.
How do you think India as a nation can go about improving the lives of mothers and children?
When I think in vast sweeping national terms, I feel helpless and inadequate. Especially when government agencies seem to do so little and non-government organizations appear to be fighting a rising tide with diminishing resources. One of my first jobs when I moved to the UK was with a Child-Care/Child-Protection Social Services team and I remember spending most of that first year in a state of amazement at how hard some of my colleagues worked to protect that one child or save that one family. It was a humbling lesson in dedication and in learning to keep my goals small and achievable. If each of us did a certain amount to help improve the lives of those around us who are less privileged, our country would be doing far better than it is now.
About the Author: Bhakti Bapat Mathew is a freelance journalist based in Bangalore, India. Bhakti holds a postgraduate degree in management studies from the University of Mumbai. She currently writes for international publications such as Women’s e-News (USA), The National (UAE) and Hortibiz (The Netherlands), and Indian ones including Business Standard, The Hindu, Mint, Good Housekeeping, Deccan Herald, and New Indian Express. Her website is www.bhaktiweb.com.
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