Teej is, no doubt, a male-constructed practice as Arun Gupto argued in his recent article “Teej for my student” on Republica. To it, let me add more and take away some at the same time. Indeed, the religious metaphors of sacrifice, sacredness, and spirituality have exalted the status of Teej as a premier festival of Nepali women. In the ancient days of scripture-writing, epic creation, public discourse, oral folklore, and other male dominated activities of intellectual pursuits in Hinduism, women played no significant part to a large extent. Of course, exceptions exist but they cannot be construed as normative, since they are either too few, not well-researched, or prominent enough. Hence, in a heavily patriarchal past, stories of Parvati fasting and gaining favor in marriage to Shiva through her piety, devotion, and love, and thus earning a revered status next to the elusive Lord, are not surprising. Notice that Parvati attained her place “next to” Shiva (a symbol of equality) only after enacting the austerities associated with Teej. It can be inferred then that prior to this, she was not yet Shiva’s equal. With women having little say over how these stories were constructed, the notion of a good husband as a prize for intensive physical and emotional labor was created from the culturally-entrenched vertical power relations between a man and a woman. With little opposition, it is easy for anyone to claim the status of lord and master and with many of these in power and in number, it becomes easier to inject their version of such stories into the social mores.
Let us vindicate men for once. While the ideology of Teej was born out of patriarchy, it is certainly the women who have nurtured, perpetuated, and over time, expanded its practice.
Where are the stories or traditions in which men have to undergo similar rigors to get a good wife? Why were they not crafted by the wise sages, the learned men, the traveling minstrels? Or is a good wife not a prize of equal value as a Shiva-like husband and instead is simply dispensable?
But let us also vindicate men for once. While the ideology of Teej was born out of patriarchy, it is certainly the women who have nurtured, perpetuated, and over time, expanded its practice. In her article “Fast and Furious” in The Kathmandu Post, Bhawana Upadhyay recounts instances of how pregnant women are forced to fast on Teej by their in-laws, mostly women. Young girls are socialized by their mothers to conceptualize the significance of Teej and its rituals as a means to gain good husbands or to keep the current one(s) by praying and fasting for their well-being. In most cases, the austerities are observed not necessarily out of genuine devotion but through a sense of fear and compulsion – it is therefore just another exercise in social conformity. Just imagine this – being pushed and pulled in all directions amidst a horde of people, drenched in sudden rain, worried about the gold ornaments (tilahari, mangalsutra, and other valuables), delicately balancing the basket full of offerings on an empty stomach, and painfully craning your neck to get a glimpse of the gigantic Shiva linga in Pashupatinath. The person is least likely to come away feeling genuine gratitude and good fortune at having a good husband. What compels them to make that trip, perform such rigors – is it truly devotion or is it the dread instilled by the women in a woman’s life that teaches them to elevate men and subordinate women? Has that dread morphed into what is called “tradition”? Most likely.
Teej is the crowning glory of women’s masochistic tendencies, again perpetuated by women themselves. Here’s an example: A woman that I know of, and I am sure there are many like her, fasted, visited Pashupatinath temple at 2 am and did everything else that typifies Teej. For whom? Her husband - who physically batters her on a regular basis, forces himself on her sexually despite her protests, refuses to be identified in public as her husband and father of his two children, and has married her alongside another wife in his village. Despite being financially independent and moderately educated, she refuses to leave the brute. Instead, she basks in all her redness on Teej – for him. Her decision to stay is supported by her mother and the co-wife who instead encourage her to revel in the festivities, chiding her for any complaints against the man. This example is not uncommon and signifies the dread that is misconstrued as devotion and promoted by women. This kind of behavior exists across the board, regardless of class, caste, and education. Blaming the tradition on patriarchy does not do it full justice.
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