By Cassandra Syiem
The image of woman attracts poets, composers, painters, sculptors, writers, philosophers and even in political arenas, usually considered to be male bastions. The truth is that she is an elusive creature, with paradoxical qualities imbibed in her being. She says “no” when she means “yes” and “yes” when she means “no”; and she starts any topic in the middle portion, instead of starting from the beginning. At one time, a perplexed professor in a girls’ college rebuked the students with the words: “You laugh when men cry; and you cry when men laugh”. Indeed, Woman is an Enigma. But can Man do justice to her? Let us travel down memory lane, ever keeping the Present in mind.
It was a bright, sunny day in the spring time. The hills and valleys wore the young green colour by a divine ordinance, to please men and women in their earthly existence. But the solid ray of joy and gladness hovered on a little girl who, with her parents on a family picnic, romped over a hillock, spreading her chubby arms to welcome the breeze, experiencing the exhilarating hope and strength, seeing her dreams for the future, singing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”. Yet as time passed by, this chapter slowly closed forever for it was only a “Song of Innocence”.
The little girl grew into a young woman and like all “little women” she had to adapt herself to societal norms of her era. But this is the world we live in, a world torn between War and Peace. In times of war, many of the norms were broken. During World War I, and World War II, young women were compelled to join the Women Auxilliary Corps (WAC), wearing pants in certain units, with full military uniforms, braving death in the face. Among other women recruited, were young lady doctors, paramedics, nursing matrons and junior nurses, ward-girls and pharmacists.
Society, in those days, was shocked. Woman was no longer protected and nurtured like a baby. She became independent. It could not be helped for “Necessity is the mother of Invention”. Yet she was also a human being and a victim of World War, balancing on a tight rope between Life and Death, anytime, anywhere. Thus it was mind-boggling for a woman in crisis at home or in the war front, to choose between a Life Instinct or a Death Instinct as Ayn Rand emphasized in her novels. How could she? When towns, cities and villages were being bombarded night and day, that even rats in the city of Berlin were in extinction! Thus women in World War times had to drink the cup of life, one day at a time because the Death Instinct stared them in the face. This is War! This is the “Song of Experience”.
The two World Wars has certainly shook and rattled our beloved hills, where peace is usually taken for granted. Thus, if “Mot Phran” in Shillong, is honoured in remembrance for the Khasi and Jaintia heroes of World War I, justice should be done in any form, to preserve the memory of Khasi and Jaintia heroines of the Women Auxilliary Corps, posted anywhere in the world during war; the matrons, young nurses and ward girls who were transferred to cities, towns and jungles of allied countries, working in dilapidated hospitals where a huge red cross was painted on roof tops. International authorities appreciated the efficiency of this group, considered to be one of the best in the world. Surviving members of this group even rendered invaluable service to the wounded crowds in several parts of the country during the partition of India and Pakistan. These were the women of our beloved hills, who sacrificed their own lives, to heal the wounds and check destruction those two World Wars brought along. They were the soothing balm, when the whole country was in the throes of agony. Had they been alive today, they would be the only persons who could understand the depth of the song “Heal the World”, on account of their heroic deeds. Alas! They were only WOMEN.
Life goes on, stepping into an era of peace. The new young Eves happen to be born in a land of diversity, where unity suffers bouts. On the national level, these little women get married either happily, unhappily or rebelliously, depending on customs, traditions and circumstances. The general view is that one group finds happiness, while another group ends in mental institutions on account of being unable to tackle with mental and verbal abuse; another group keep on their toes, running to and fro, to cater to the needs of ever fault-finding husbands, while another group lands in emergency units looking like burnt rags; yet another group hold their hips, flex their muscles, wag their fiery tongues, driving their sheepish husbands to the pen. What a mixture of colours! Who is right and who is wrong? Nobody knows, for in this ancient land, such matters are generally considered to be “private” – so, so.
In our so-called Christian state, a woman is a “Lukhimai”, a creation made out of a man’s rib bone, taken from nearest his heart – a symbolic reminder for men to love and respect women, dealing with them as equals, for women have a dignified role to play, in advising, building and strengthening a family and society. How come, men here and there, ill treat women so much instead of cuddling them? When it comes to raping young women (thankfully, not old, tottering women) the major condemnation is on the vulgarity of clothing. Yet how man turns out to be so cold and callous that his conscience deadens, while raping a six months’ old female baby, or a one or two year old girl? Can the blame be put on diapers and baby frocks? Come to think of it, only a woman suffers a heartbreak!
Only one thing, every citizen of this hill state should remember: A woman is a Life Force. She gives life to a string of generations. She is the daughter and sister, the wife and mother, the grandmother and even the great grandmother.