Widow sans marriage
SARADA
LAHANGIR
·
Lakke Pushika, 70, sits in the veranda of her
home in Khajuri village staring vacantly at her surroundings. Her marriage was
fixed when she was 10 but the alliance broke when she turned 11. Since then she
has been living the life of a widow. (Credit: Sarada Lahangir\WFS)
·
Tangiri Wadeba, 40, belongs to the Dongria Kond
community, a primitive tribe in Odisha. After her marriage broke, the boy went
on to marry someone else but tribal customs have forced her to live without
companionship or hope. (Credit: Sarada Lahangir\WFS)
·
Dase, Rupli and Kurmi Wedekka. While Dase, 20,
still can't believe that the young man she fell in love with had spurned her
just before marriage, Kurmi, 60, is finding it difficult to make ends meet
without any support. (Credit: Sarada Lahangir\WFS)
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Tangiri
Wadeba, 40, has never been married but lives like a widow. Her head is clean
shaven, and she wears only light-coloured cotton saris and no ornaments.
Tangiri, who lives in Railima village in the Niyamgiri Hills of Odisha’s
Rayagada district, can never forget the day her father told her that her
marriage had been called off, and that she would have to live alone all her life.
“I was
15 when a young man proposed marriage. According to the customs of my Dongria
Kondh clan, wine and buffaloes were exchanged between the families, and my
father threw a lavish feast for everyone,” she recalls. Everything went as
planned until, one day, the groom’s family simply decided they did not want
their son to marry Tangiri. “I don’t know what happened but our alliance broke.
He went on to marry someone else, but tradition demanded that I live like a
widow,” she sighs. She knows her former fiancé will never come back, but “our
customs have forced me to wait for him, forever”.
Tangiri
now stares at a future without companionship or hope, something that Lakke
Pushika, 70, is familiar with. Lakke spends hours in the veranda of her small
home in Khajuri village, staring vacantly at her surroundings. She doesn’t even
remember the name of the man who was once betrothed to her. “I was only 10. My
parents had fixed my marriage with a boy from the neighbouring village. Even
then I did not really understand what was happening, I just saw that my parents
were really happy. One year later, when I was 11, my father came to me and said
that from then on I was to only wear white saris. It seems like forever now,”
says Lakke, her eyes brimming with tears.
Tangiri
and Lakke share a fate that is common to over 200 women across Railima,
Khajuri, Khambeshi, Kurli and Kadragumma villages in the Niyamgiri Hills
region. They are Dongria Kondhs, a sub-section of the Kondh community, a
primitive tribe that has traditionally resided in this area. According to the
Dongria Kondh Development Agency (DKDA), the Dongrias number 8,613, and live in
102 villages. Average literacy rate in the community is less than 20 per cent,
with female literacy rate at a dismal five per cent. The Dongrias commonly
practise polygamy but ensure that marriages don’t take place within the same
clan. Earlier it was common for a Dongria to either capture or force an
alliance, but in recent times, marriages are formally negotiated, as in the cases
of Tangiri and Lakke.
The
tribe has an interesting tradition aimed at facilitating alliances between
youngsters. Every Dongria village has youth dormitories. When unmarried boys
and girls attain puberty, they are packed off to the separate dormitories for
boys and girls, located at the far end of the village.
As in
any club, the youngsters sing, dance, and share experiences with each other. In
what could be termed as a ‘modern’ move, girls and boys are allowed to forge
relationships, including sexual ties, with those from other villages. The hope
is that their ‘affair’ will end in marriage. The boy usually proposes marriage,
and his family gives the girl’s family wine and buffaloes as offerings. If his
feelings are reciprocated by the girl, her family sends some ‘gifts’ along with
wine and buffalos to consolidate the union.
Unfortunately,
not all liaisons have happy endings. Dase Jakasika, 20, still can’t believe
that the young man she fell in love with spurned her just before marriage. Even
now, her beautiful face lights up as she recalls their courtship, “We met in
the youth dormitory on the outskirts of my village, Khambeshi. He used to visit
the girls’ dormitory along with his friends. We were together for about two
months and then he proposed to me. One month later we were supposed to get
married but he left me all alone to lead a miserable life.” Dase is still young
and longs to dress up, but custom forbids her from doing so. Also, she is no
longer allowed to go to the dormitory and participate in dance or musical
programmes during festivals. Ramesh Chandra Nulla, an activist with the DKDA,
has worked in the community for several years. “The youth dormitories are a way
for the Dongrias to educate the young in their traditional ways. Girls are
taught social taboos; they listen to the myths, legends and stories around
their culture. But Dongria girls who face rejection are not allowed to stay in
the dormitories,” he explains.
Considered
‘rejects’, life becomes tougher as they grow older and struggle to make ends
meet without support. Kurmi Wadeka, 60, is a case in point. “All my siblings
got married and they are staying separately with their families. As long as my
parents were alive, I did not face any problem. I used to go to the forest with
my father and collect minor forest produce. We also had a small patch of land
where we grew pineapples. However, after he died my brothers distributed the
land equally amongst themselves, leaving me out. I am a woman and that too one
who has been rejected. At least I still have my hut to live in. Earlier, I used
to work in others’ fields to earn but now I am old and can’t do hard labour, so
I have no option but to live on alms,” she says, her voice barely above a
whisper.
Women
are not allowed to seek a second marriage alliance if the first one fails. The
Dongria Kondh tribals have zealously clung to such traditional practices
despite many development projects initiated by the State. Even the educated
zealously cling to traditional practices.
Some,
like Ghasi Kadraka, head of Khajuri village, do not agree with this custom but
find it difficult to raise their voice against it. “If we try to marry the girl
elsewhere, there could be a big fight between the villages. It becomes a matter
of prestige and dignity. My own daughter is a victim of this practice. She is
25 and stays with me for now, but I am worried about her future. After I am
gone, how will she survive? I know the consequences of this practice but am
helpless to do anything about it. I dare not go against my community,” says
Ghasi.
Rayagada-based
researcher Uday Chandra Panda says primitive tribal communities are getting
depleted by the day, and the Dongrias are no exception. “Practices like this
are now posing a huge risk to their very existence and the Government and civil
society need to make the community aware of its negative impact.”
— © Women's Feature Service
(This article was
published on August 22, 2013)
Keywords: Dongria Kondhs, primitive tribe, Niyamgiri Hills, Odisha, women, widow clothes, broken marriage alliances,
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