THE HINDU
Weekly edition  
Date: 17-03-1996 
Cl: Sociology

The invisible women of Kerala
KALPANA SHARMA
-----------------------------


        WHEN  you visit Kerala, you feel as if you  are  entering
another country.  In this pre-monsoon period, when most parts  of
the country look parched and bone dry, Kerala still maintains its
mantle  of  green.  When, in other states, the  hallmark  of  any
small town is open gutters, piles of dirt and pigs, chickens  and
assorted  animals wandering on the streets, the equivalent  urban
centres in this state look as if they have just been swept with a
strong broom.  And the children  rarely do you see such a  bright
and well-scrubbed bunch.

        Yet,  there is something missing.  You drive through  the
streets  of  a town and you see clusters of men, young  and  old,
hanging  around as they would in any other town.  But  where  are
the women?

        Apparently at home, doing their ``homely duties.''  It is
one  of the paradoxes of this most advanced state in  India  that
the status of women, despite the high levels of literacy, remains
surprisingly low.  If you ask people involved with movements that
are  attempting to change social attitudes why this is  so,  they
have no clear answer.

        U.  Janaki is a retired teacher who is also president  of
the  Kalliasseri panchayat in Kannur district in Kerala.  She  is
one  of four women in the 11-member Panchayat.  Kalliasseri is  a
model  panchayat  in  many ways where  many  innovative  ways  to
enhance  the  developmental process are being  implemented.   For
instance,  the Panchayat Development Society, a larger body  than
the  panchayat,  has undertaken to map all the resources  of  the
area  under  its jurisdiction.  This is the first  time  such  an
exercise  has ever been undertaken.  This knowledge has  equipped
them with the tools to decide how best to use these resources and
where to make fresh investments.

        I  asked  Janaki  why  women were  not  more  visible  in
leadership positions in politics or within different movements in
the state.  ``They have the burden of house work,'' she said  and
then added, ``Most of the husbands don't let them go.''  Although
things  were beginning to change, she concurred that the hold  of
tradition  was  stronger.  The only women who could  go  out  and
participate  in activities such as panchayat meetings were  those
old  enough to have a daughter-in-law who could perform  all  the
``homely  duties.''But Janaki was hopeful that the generation  of
her  daughters might see some difference.  However, she  admitted
that,  despite education, even women doctors had to give  dowries
in order to find a good groom.

        The  situation  in Kerala gives reason for us  to  pause.
For  decades now, health care and education were seen as the  two
magical inputs which could alter the position of women in  Indian
society.    Yet,  in  this  most  advanced  state  where   social
indicators  of health and literacy compare favourably with  those
of  many  western  nations, women are  still  crushed  under  
the
deadweight of tradition which relegates them to the home and  the
kitchen.   If they go out, it is within limits accepted  by  this
conservative society.  So women doctors, nurses and teachers  can
be found in abundance.  But women journalists?  Hardly any, I was
told.

        The subject of the status of women in Kerala has  invited
much  research.  I can recall a decade ago a friend of mine  from
Kerala  arguing that education by itself did not enhance  women's
status.  She gave Kerala as an example.  Her statements then were
usually greeted with disbelief.

        It  is  only  of  late  that  this  situation  has   been
documented  in social science research.  Also, it is the  absence
of  women  in progressive movements which have set  a  nationwide
example in other fields that has drawn attention to this lacunae.

        The Kerala Sastra Sahitya Parishad (KSSP) is probably one
of  the  most  remarkable  movements  in  this  country.   It  is
democratic and independent.  It holds elections every two  years.
No person holds a post for longer than that.  As a result,  there
are  few  ``names''  that  one knows as  KSSP  leaders.   Of  its
membership  of over 60,000, only a handful work  full-time.   All
the rest are volunteers.  Regardless of their senior positions in
government,  as scientists or in the educational system,  all  of
them introduce themselves merely as ``KSSP activists.''

        Yet  in  KSSP, which has been responsible  not  only  for
inculcating   a   scientific  temper  and  a  love   for   books,
popularising alternative technologies and spreading environmental
consciousness  across the state of Kerala, there are  hardly  any
women in prominent positions.  The women who are working with  it
are generally quiet and reticent.  You are unlikely to hear their
views  at a gathering unless you go out of your way to  speak  to
them and draw them out.

        When  asked why this had happened, KSSP  activists  admit
that  this  is  ``tragic''  and wonder  aloud  whether  there  is
something wrong with the education system.  Still others  suggest
that one of the reasons for the lack of participation of women in
KSSP could be the time at which meetings are generally held.   As
most  members  are  volunteers  holding  full-time  jobs,   their
meetings can only be held at night.  But this is exactly the time
when  women have to be at home.  They can only step out  if  they
have  another woman who can do their work.  And women in  such  a
position are few.

        Is there no way out of this dilemma?  Clearly there could
be if enlisting women and drawing them into leadership  positions
was  a high enough priority of the KSSP. Then whether it  is  the
time  at  which  meetings are held, or  the  kind  of  activities
organised  to  enlist members, the needs of women  would  find  a
primary  position.If  the  stranglehold of  tradition,  which  is
holding  women  back  despite education, has to  be  broken  then
wishful  thinking  is  not enough.  There has  to  be  deliberate  p73
strategy to do this.

        Nothing  illustrated the Kerala paradox more vividly  for
me than a visit to a beautiful old traditional Namboodiri home in
the  heart of Palakkad.  It is set in the midst of several  acres
which include a paddy field, a sacred grove, dozens of mango  and
jackfruit  trees already groaning with fruit and a  private  pond
with   steps   leading  into  it  much  as  you  see   in   Adoor
Gopalakrishnan's  films.  The house itself, two stories high,  is
cool,  its  black oxide floors a comfort to walk on.   There  are
four women in the home, of three different generations.  Yet  the
person doing most of the talking to the visitors is the only  man
in the house.

        The third generation, consisting of two extremely bright-
eyed  young girls, have their own agenda.  On the  surface,  they
maintain  a polite demeanour.  But once outside the  confines  of
the home, they decide for the visitors what they should see.  And
language, or the lack of a common one, is no barrier.  Will  this
generation change the situation?  Or will they too, after such  a
promising  start,  be  married into homes  where  their  ``homely
duties'' will take precedence over all else?