India just celebrated 66 years of being a Republic based on the Constitution that grants to its citizens, among many other wonderful things, a network of rights — both individual and group. The Constitution recognises the centrality of equality, liberty, fraternity and dignity of the citizen in the making of a democratic India. However, many aspects of life in India do not subscribe to these constitutional tenets. Living in a democracy, citizens have the right, and indeed it is their duty, to invoke constitutional provisions to ensure that these distances are bridged.
It is in this context that I would place the ongoing judicial battle with regard to the ban on entry of women and young girls within the age group of 10 to 50 years to the Ayyappa temple at Sabarimala. The recent developments in the Supreme Court, with regard to a petition filed by the Indian Young Lawyers Association and five women lawyers seeking a direction to allow entry of women into the Sabarimala temple without age restriction, is by now very well known.
The court wished to know the basis for the ban and did not take a very sympathetic view of the justification of the ban invoking traditions and respect for the celibate status of the deity at the temple. This raises the question: Whether this ban on the entry of women of a certain age group violates the rights of Indian citizens as guaranteed by the Constitution?
Rights are precious; they, however, acquire life and validity only in the context of a particular society, with its specific history and culture. For instance, many of the rights granted to the Indian citizen under Part III of the Indian Constitution make sense only in context of the caste-based prejudices that are peculiar to Indian society. Another significant fact about rights is that they are never doled out by a magnanimous state to grateful citizens.
On the contrary, citizens have had to fight for their rights and wrest them from the state. This is true for all democracies; every struggle for expansion of rights has resulted in the expansion of democracy. This petition filed to assert the rights of women, irrespective of their age, to enter Sabarimala should be placed in the context of struggles for the widening of the circle of democracy by fulfilling the promises of the Constitution.
In a democracy, the best results are produced when the impetus for change is supported by a large citizen base for the proposed change. In this instance of revoking the ban on women’s entry to the Sabarimala shrine, we are yet to see that. Sections of Kerala’s society, including enlightened intellectuals and writers (some of whom happen to be women, like the poet Sugathakumari) remain unconvinced about the move to revoke the ban on women entering the shrine.
The issue of unequal access to public places of worship is not of limited relevance to Kerala, but has a resonance for the rest of the country as well.
Democracy, by nature is always a work in progress. Societies are by nature dynamic.
A democratic society would be capable of absorbing and reflecting the changes in society, but this process is never smooth sometimes vociferous campaigns have to be undertaken and at other times persistent petitioning does the trick. For instance, in Maharashtra, activists of Ranragini Bhumata Brigade led by Trupti Desai were prevented by police presence and barricades, when they attempted to forcibly enter and worship on the sacred platform at the Shani Shingnapur temple. Whereas in Kerala, we see that the campaign is comparatively muted.
In liberal democratic societies, the legal route is often explored to nudge the process of change. It is this process of dialogue, debate and deliberation that results in democratic change. The questions raised by the current controversy about admission of women to temples such as Sabarimala or Shani Shingnapur should be welcomed as an opportunity for the Indian Republic to introspect, reflect upon and critique its democratic ethos.
I, however, do believe that the legal campaign for constitutionally-guaranteed equality needs to be supplemented with constructive and not shrill engagement with public opinion. It would be useful to demonstrate the dynamic nature of traditions and conventions. After all the practice of Sati and child-marriage were also a part of our traditions. It would most certainly be useful to remind ourselves of the numerous instances when egalitarian and democratic beliefs have been blockaded by cultural and religious practices.
Bold and imaginative campaigners, in alliance with democratic institutions, have ushered in some of the most dramatic changes in the Indian society. Change is, more often than not, painful, especially when it involves existing beliefs and practices. However, liberal-democratic societies are characterised by their willingness to introspect and accept the need for change. In a democracy such as ours, the state and its institutions would be expected to show the path not in isolation, but in tandem with the energies of the people seeking equality and fraternity.
It is not my contention that such battles need not be fought — indeed each of these skirmishes show us again and again the stranglehold of hierarchical social structures. The petitioners in the case of Sabarimala and the activists in the case of the Shani temple, serve a very important purpose, i.e., drawing our attention to the essentially gendered and, hence, inevitably unequal nature of pilgrimages and worship practices.
In this, the Sabarimala or Shani Shingnapur temples are not exceptions. There are, of course, instances of pilgrim sites and ritual positions that were exclusively for women. Shrines such as the caves of Eileithyia on Crete, Greece, dedicated to fertility goddesses allowed only female pilgrims.
Famously, the oracles of Delphi, Greece, were only women. In Kerala, the Pongala at Attukal temple is exclusively celebrated by women. But a crucial difference lies in the fact that in the above instances, men were not excluded because of deep-seated societal taboos and mistrust. Instances of Jewish and medieval Christian pilgrim sites that disallowed or had strict segregation of sexes are to be found, and in many of these instances, the segregation emanated from scepticism about women pilgrims. In fact, the Spanish proverb romera ramera captures these prejudices very well.
Haj, of course, has its own restrictions on women, as also the Haji Ali Dargah where the inner sanctum is now off-limits to women. The discomfort with women asserting their autonomy, with women being in public places as opposed to their rightful place at home, the nervousness vis-à-vis female sexuality — are some of the possible explanations for excluding women from certain pilgrimages and ritual practices.
The Sabarimala pilgrimage is undoubtedly an occasion for men to come together on a largely egalitarian footing; everyone is addressed as swami irrespective of caste, religion or class. However, women find no place in this community. Scholars have noticed the intensity of emotion and unity of purpose that converts the trek to the temple into a unique homosocial experience.
The male camaraderie and bonds formed during the pilgrimage and worship seem to have, in recent years, become a very essential part of defining masculinity in Kerala. Women joining this pilgrimage would pose a threat to this carefully-crafted masculinity of Malayalee men, just as women worshipping Shani on the sacred platform at the Shani Shingnapur temple of Maharashtra might challenge the local construct of masculinity in the Ahmednagar district of Maharashtra.
While the legal process will take its own due course, for campaigners of rights, the legal challenge is only the beginning, for at heart the question is not about this or that shrine and the entry of this or that group of people. The question is of equal access, and this question cannot be limited to access of some women who wish to worship at the Sabari shrine or at the Shani temple.
It has to be linked with access of dalit students to good education, of the poor to quality healthcare, of the old to safe and caring environs, etc. To isolate one instance of hierarchy and prejudice would have limited results, however, to place it in the larger context of marginalisation and mistrust might yield richer and more meaningful rewards.
