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| Old Woman in village Kustana, Odisha. For more info on this pic, please visit here |
This week I remembered Buri Maa again.
She was a character. Somewhere in her 70s,
she worked in my house when I was a kid in Kolkata. I think she worked for 3-4
years. She was from East Bengal (present day Bangladesh) and had a distinct
hard-to-understand accent in her Bengali. She was short, maybe around 5 feet.
She was a widow and unlike other widows, she was particular about wearing white
and shaving her hair. She never wore a blouse. Her wrinkled skin showed on her
bare brown shoulders. No, she did not have teeth either. And yes, she was
hunched, not fully but perceptibly.
I remember her walking across our corridor.
I remember her bringing in our rations for the week. I remember her seated on
the floor near our sink doing the dishes with ashes and Mother’s concoctions for
dish cleaning. I remember her cackling to me. I don’t remember what she spoke,
I just remember how that voice sounded—sharp, shrill, like a character out of
the books. Her face was thin and more long than round. Her hair was in small
grey spikes. She was our domestic help—a woman in her 70s.
Mother says she had given good advice on
parenting and when my brother fractured his arm, she had realized that the boy
needed to be taken to the doctor immediately. Mother says she loved a good milk
tea. And that she slept at our house in the afternoon for some hours. And that
she had a son and his family. That she lacked food and peace at home. That she
worked in a couple of houses to make her living. And that she was very
religious.
I remember that day when we, mother and I
opened our front door and spied on her from the top of the staircase. She was
seated below. In her hands, bags with our ration for the week-some rice and
sugar. And then we saw. She opened the bag of sugar, scooped some and put it in
her own little pouch (or was it a bag or was it her anchal, sari ends?). We saw
her steal.
I do not remember what happened after that
except that mother confronted her. And that she confessed to stealing then and
many times before. And that she was sorry. Hadn’t mother taken good care of
her?
And then I remember that she died a week
later. She worshipped Sheetala Maa—the Goddess doctor who removes diseases. In
Bengal she was often worshipped during chicken pox and other such diseases.
Buri Maa had dipped in the lakes, carrying her offerings, walked in that wet
sari, over the railway tracks, to where the image of the Goddess had been placed,
fell before her and never rose again.
Mother felt that she was doing penance for
stealing. I feel she had lost the desire to live and desire anymore.
For in the larger scheme of things, here
was a woman, who in her 70s had no one to take care of her, who still earned
her living by working as a domestic help, who in spite of losing her husband
and being uncared for by her son, and being discarded by the society, still desired—if
nothing, then at least for that rich cup of milk tea. She was old, but never
dead. Until she died.
I dedicate this post to all senior women
who work as domestic helps and other menial labour jobs.
[A Note on Aging and Ageism: In 2008, I had
the opportunity to lead a volunteer project at a senior care centre in
Albuquerque. As part of the process, I spent time talking and listening to Prof.
Dr Virginia Shipman, who specializes in Aging Studies at University of New
Mexico. These are points from her conversations and from the seminar conducted
by Feminist Research Institute in March 2009 on Aging and Ageism:
·
A person above 60 is not old.
The actual decay of bodily processes happens after 80. The issues at 60+ are
related to health problems. Thus 60-80 age group folks are considered young
seniors and 80+ are the senior seniors.
·
Old folks are not fragile
vulnerable people. They are survivors—they have survived epidemics, accidents,
diseases, addictions, catastrophes and wars. Thus compared to young folks, they
are seasoned in the art of surviving.
·
Old folks are not losing their
brain functions. They simply use their brains differently. For example, when we
drive as a young person, we use certain aspects of our brain to gauge our
surroundings and make decisions. When we grow older, we use other parts of our
brain to make the same judgments. But our traffic rules and signs do not accommodate
this change in brain functions and we want seniors off the roads. Dr. Shipman recommends
retraining seniors to appropriately use the altered brain function to drive
more effectively.
·
Old folks are not stubborn and
conservative. In fact since they have managed to live through the test of time,
they tend to be more accommodative and understanding. A certain acceptance and
forgiveness sets in with age. I had a student once in her late 60s who had begun
to enjoy metallic rock and would share them with me and the class. Her class
presentations were worth watching! In fact my closest friends tend to be 55 and
above and my best friend is a woman in her 60s. I have never felt more understood
and accepted than with her.
·
It is important not to disable
and disempower old folks by treating them as a person with no voice or agency.
When accompanying them to doctor or hospital—let them speak to the doctor
themselves and let them ask the questions. Do not speak for them. Do not treat
them as weak persons. For example, my dad is 78 and he is a proud man. I never
hold his hand when crossing the street. Instead I walk slightly ahead and
ensure the cars stop so he can cross at his own pace. I do not stop him from
going anywhere although I request him to use more comfortable means of
conveyance. He still fills up my bottle of water and keeps a fruit on the
table. He likes it that way. I let him. For I would never ever want him to feel
less than who he is. My mom, on the other hand, loves a bit of pampering. She
loves her hand held. She loves to be given things and worried about. But she
does not like me taking over her kitchen. I don’t. Even if it means that I
sacrifice my food habits and tastes for her. For I always want her to feel
strong and empowered. And I always go
gaga over her simplest dishes which gives her enormous joy. You need to let
your seniors know that they are admired and adored. They are not just a
bag-of-bones, they are full humans—productive and useful like rest of us.
·
This point is from Elango
Rangaswamy, former panchayat leader in Kuthumbakkam. I had asked him about
issues of seniors in villages. He said that unlike cities, seniors do not feel
as lonely in villages. Community bindings are strong. But they feel less
productive as they cannot work in the fields or at other jobs as before,
although there is never a specific retirement age. Men specially suffer from
this sense of inadequacy. He suggested that there should be small
microenterprises geared for the seniors. Like coir making enterprise, where
seniors can thread coir fibres into ropes. Such enterprise will not only give
them money and a sense of being productive, it will provide an opportunity to
interact and be with others for a good amount of the day.
·
For more info on myths about
aging, please read WHO document here and other pamphlets/one pagers here and here.
There are many groups and
foundations that support senior citizens like Dignity Foundation
and Helpage India.
If you know of other groups who are doing good work, please note them in the
comments section below.
This is the fifth post in the Sa Ham- I am She navratri series. For other posts, please click on the links below:
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