Modern urban families are typically nuclear. Husband and wife. Both work, their jobs keep them away from home. Who stays at the house? The domestic help; sometimes a gardener, a driver. Neighbors drop by now and then. That’s it! The boy is busy, the girl is too. Very busy. They meet in the evenings. Some playful banter, occasional outings together, shared meals, falling asleep. That’s how it goes, isn’t it? The boy’s parents live in the village home, or somewhere else. This is how modern people live their fluttering sparrow lives.
At some point the boy is no longer just a boy—he becomes a father. The girl is no longer just a girl—she becomes a mother. Then what happens? The girl takes a few months of maternity leave. Then it’s back to the office. The time spent with the little one shrinks under the weight of busyness. Their child grows up in the hands of the domestic help, the gardener, the driver. The neighbors shower affection too. For most of the day, except for the parents, everyone else dotes on the child. They’re busy, after all! There’s no shortage of love, but there are all the other accompaniments. But how does a little person survive without affection? Let’s say they have a daughter. A little doll of a girl. With wondering eyes, she discovers the world bit by bit each day in her own way. Playing with mirrors, she grows a little each day. Walking on tiny feet, growing up while touching the world around her with hands soft as bird feathers. She understands nothing. In the morning, her parents kiss their little fairy’s eyes and leave; she wakes up later and waits until evening for a bit of affection. When they return from the office, they bring so many things for their little darling! All the most expensive material affections money can buy within their means—things that can be bought, touched, and even thrown away. This is how corporate parents raise their corporate child in corporate culture.
These things happen. What else happens?
She’s a small, helpless human being.
She stays home all day. Every day she grows a little bit bigger. When she’s old enough for school, she goes to school, comes home from school. What does she do when she gets home? Watch cartoons, break toys, make little demands of the maid. Sometimes when the maid scolds her, her heart shrinks small, her lips turn inside out and she starts crying in soft sobs, and after a few moments of sadness she forgets everything and goes back to playing by herself. That’s it! What does she understand about the difference between boys and girls? She stays alone. She’d be happy just to have a playmate, wouldn’t she? She wants no one to scold her, wants someone to buy her chocolate, wants no one to say anything even if she breaks her toys. She doesn’t know herself, has never had the age or need to know, that she is a girl. Girls can’t do everything. But how would she understand any of this? The adults around her understand everything, though. They understand that her corporate parents aren’t around, that it’s not hard to ‘manage’ the maid. They know the price of a chocolate is very small. With just that little bit, so much can be ‘obtained’ so easily! They shower her with affection, far too much of it. Girl children are more valued, the affection unbearably excessive. Who are they? The teenage boy next door, his friend, his brother, the house gardener, the driver, the ugly teacher, relatives near and far or even non-relatives, family friends and all the familiar old-blooded men of the same kind. How would the girl know why she’s so precious to them, how precious! The girl has no little friends of her own, so no playmates either. Adults are her playmates. Adults play, at games. These things continue. Can sensual pleasure be bought for less money than this? Sometimes when they get unexpectedly intense pleasure, in their joy they might want to spend much more money next time and might have to buy a Barbie doll. That’s all there is to it! What else is there in the world that’s more easily available for consumption? Easy, isn’t it? The girl won’t understand either. Even if she ever does something that shows she understands, there’s no problem. A child that small won’t be able to tell anyone anything out of fear; or rather, she doesn’t yet have the intelligence to understand that it’s something worth telling. No one will ever know; not even her husband after marriage. These are things that cannot be spoken of. They must be pressed down and kept inside the chest in silent suffering. So with her, whenever they want, whatever they want, they can do. Free sensual pleasure, an easy spread, an endless marketplace of satisfaction. Everyone can see it, yet no one is watching.
Mother won’t even notice. Father will consider not noticing as his responsibility. They’re terribly busy, after all! Where’s the time to check on her? She’s growing up, isn’t she! The little doll is growing right before their eyes. But how is she growing? The day’s exhaustion; tomorrow’s office work needs to be organized too. There are other demands as well—biological or otherwise. The girl seems perfectly healthy, chattering away about what she did all day, how the teachers at school smile, how they talk, how they scold—she tells it all so neatly. But who keeps track of whether something’s wrong with her body! I know of one mother who learned about her daughter’s first period two days after it started. After hearing about a teenage girl from the neighboring flat getting pregnant, she angrily interrogates her own eight-year-old: “Hey! Nobody’s done ‘anything’ to you, have they!” The girl says, “No, Ma.” What else could she say? If she told the truth, she might even get beaten. Mother is happiest hearing lies. Such a busy mother! Who wants to invite trouble by trying to understand? Must work, work! Must climb higher and higher. Who wants to lose in this rat race? Can’t ask husband for money. Ask for money and husband starts his endless interrogations about everything under the sun. Is she a beggar? Did she study so hard to remain dependent on someone else? She has her own social circle too. She has to maintain so many things as well. Like her husband, she has her secrets too. Young mothers’ hearts are vast oceans of secrets. If she doesn’t ask husband for money, he doesn’t poke around her secrets so much. Women have the advantage of being able to work. Husband has even more secrets! Let there be some secrets! A little of this and that exists! Two people continue their skillful performance of happiness in their own way. They’re like two banks of the same river. There’s a bridge too. There is a bridge—that’s the only consolation. They couldn’t build the bridge; the bridge built itself out of the necessity of its own existence. That bridge is not well. She’s growing up in a world of not-well things, day by day. Only the bridge’s toys are well. Alas! Even better off are the dirty adults for whom the bridge is a toy. The careerist couple has no time to think about this. So much work. Must strengthen the bank balance. Keeping the bridge sick while arranging various healthy things for her sake. The bridge exists, keeping the two separate banks separate—no one understands a thing, everything is quite fine this way! Everyone looks and thinks, ah, how happy they are. To get along in society, this acceptability is what’s needed. Termites are eating into the bridge. Those termites are thousands of years old! No time to notice that. The bridge is gradually becoming shaky with rot. Before the wrong time arrives, no one has any time. Corporate households woven in dreams of neon lights. Under the neon lights, elegies for dead fireflies are being composed century after century. The fireflies’ hearts are heavy; they are so very dead today.
This is how so many little girls are growing up. Working couples, have you ever really thought about this? Your little doll’s world revolves around her, doesn’t it? God has sent the most beautiful doll in the world, crafted with such care, to your small home. Why should this most precious gift lie so neglected? Children grow up. Do they only grow in body? Do you think your little treasure is truly happy just because you buy her expensive fruits, milk powder, dolls, clothes, and toys? That picture book you bought her—have you ever had the time to notice the few drops of tears from your little doll that have dried and died on its pages? Why do you think so well of the adults around her? Were you never small once? Have you never been the victim of silent sexual abuse? Have you forgotten all that? Or are you forgetting? Or do you want to forget? Or have you learned to pretend to forget? Or is there simply no time to think about yesterday’s discomfort in today’s comfort? Or is thinking little about little things the fashion these days? How long will this ‘little’ remain just little, have you ever wondered? When little suddenly becomes too much one day, thinking too much then will be of no use.
The market for arranging life lies far more inside the home than outside it. At least sit with your child for evening snacks and dinner. This increases love. Let her grow in love. You will reap the benefits when she grows up to brighten your faces. When her body falls ill, she spends the entire day crying and staring at the door, thinking, when will Mama come home, when will Mama come home! By nature, children search more for their mothers. The price of her tears is a million times more than any job’s salary in the world. The one for whom you’re running breathlessly, giving up food and rest—the day she suddenly runs out of breath from being unaccustomed to living-by-holding-breath and writes her name in the register of the no-longer-here, will you be able to pay the price of that infinite regret?
I’m speaking to the men in our society. If a wife seems useless to you when she doesn’t work outside the home, then why don’t you take on even a small share of the responsibility of raising your own child! You’ll understand then what real work means! I can say with certainty that compared to your full-time job, this part-time job should pay at least five times as much—that’s how it will feel! Raising a child is one of the most difficult tasks in the world. If husbands aren’t responsible and sensitive about the role their wives play in the household, then even if there’s happiness in that home, there’s no peace. Prosperity might sometimes bring happiness, but peace is entirely a matter of the heart. If, due to various family realities, a wife must work outside the home, then the husband must take on her share of the household work. If there were wages for housework, those wages would be at least three times higher than wages for outside work—this can be calculated and proven. If the lion’s share of credit for raising a child goes to the mother, then the mother undoubtedly deserves the lion’s share of the father’s earnings’ true purpose, and the sum of those earnings plus the deserved wages for performing other household tasks is many times greater than the father’s income! This means that in the family, the mother earns more, whether the father works a job or runs however big a business! If you feel proud saying “my child” when your child does something good, then before that, you need the mentality to take at least some share of the responsibility for making your child capable of doing good things. Your child’s insecurity is exactly the measure of your own future’s insecurity—nowadays, it’s not enough for only mothers to understand this. From the moment a mother conceives a child, through all the pain she endures to keep the child safe, even if the father had to bear the entire burden of the child’s security from the time the child grows up until becoming completely self-reliant, that pain wouldn’t amount to even a quarter of the mother’s pain in giving birth.
I’ve observed that because a patriarchal social system exists in Bangladesh, when a wife’s success in the workplace exceeds her husband’s, with few exceptions, this impact usually falls negatively on the children in most cases. This is what we generally see. I’ll leave the socio-economic explanation, analysis, and solutions to the sociologists. Girls will study, grow up to have jobs and careers, become self-reliant. At the same time, we must first think about ensuring that the innocent child who has been brought into this world regardless of their wish or unwillingness has a healthy and safe childhood. At the age when they should be living in a fairy-tale realm, playing with toy sports cars or teddy bears, thinking of the world around them as a dream kingdom—at that age, they shouldn’t witness the ugly, corrupted face of the world. And if the child is a girl, it can be said that a girl’s feminine problems will never be understood by a father as well as by a mother! Fathers haven’t been given that capacity. You might say, let the husband sacrifice his career for the child instead! Where, when, has any Bengali father successfully raised children in his wife’s absence? Can you give an example? Generally, men are naturally indifferent and clumsy in this matter.
Still, some things remain to be said. The few that come to mind right now, I’ll share:
# In this piece, I haven’t said anything that undermines women’s freedom. Why would I? Even if I don’t possess great knowledge, watching my mother since childhood has taught me this much at least—that so much depends on the domestic, social, and civic freedoms of the wife in a family. But to tell the truth, women’s freedom won’t be established in Bangladesh until it becomes natural and acceptable for wives to work outside while husbands manage the household. In Bangladesh, women want to be free while riding on men’s shoulders. How is that possible?
# I’ve spoken about an ugly, distressing problem in society. This needs serious consideration. Closing our eyes won’t make the catastrophe stop. An uncomfortable truth is that this problem affects not only girl children but boy children as well. Acknowledging this, I must say that for girl children, the problem is alarmingly frequent and horrific. In both cases, a child’s healthy psychological and physical development is severely damaged. Remaining indifferent out of habit, becoming numb to what we see and endure, won’t make this problem vanish.
# One thing needs clarification. I haven’t said it’s wrong for women to work. I’ve said they should keep their children’s safety in mind. Don’t go saying again that I’m showing more concern than the mothers themselves. What I meant to say is that this ugly problem is such that you might not understand it even if you see it, that it happens beyond your awareness, that victims themselves suppress what happened to them. Another thing. Many times this problem occurs even when mothers are home. I know of a girl’s case. At a young age, she endured ‘filth’ disguised as ‘affection’ from a music teacher for a long time. Her mother was an under-educated, simple, decent woman who spent her days absorbed in household cooking, rituals, and social obligations. The girl would go alone to this perverted teacher’s house to learn music. There, under the guise of teaching music, vile sensual gratification took place. I heard through conversation with a friend the tragic story of one of his close relatives. One evening, many guests from the village came to the girl’s house (she was 10 or 11 then) for some kind of arbitration meeting. The girl’s mother (a housewife and purdah-observing decent woman) sent her to the neighboring house, thinking, “My daughter often stays there anyway. Let her play with those children upstairs—she doesn’t need to be around all this adult business.” By chance, some recently returned from abroad perverted pedophile was visiting that house that day. So what was bound to happen, happened. While this enormous crime was taking place in some room of that big house, the neighbor woman was busy in her own room watching movies with her children. The girl’s family didn’t go to police or court proceedings. But the girl suffered from clinical depression. In both these cases, the mothers never set foot outside their homes without husbands or close male relatives, let alone work in offices. But they couldn’t provide any safety for their daughters. Countless children become victims of secret sexual abuse by their own uncles. In such cases, whether the mother works or not plays no role whatsoever.
# My Mother
taught at a kindergarten, and also tutored some students at home privately. Why did she teach? For money? Yes, that was part of it, certainly. But it wasn’t entirely about financial necessity—it was about self-respect. My mother felt awkward always asking my father for money. But don’t get the wrong idea—my father never refused to give her money. When we were little, we’d ask our mother for money at various times. Why only when we were little? Well, as I grew older, I developed a passion for buying books. I’d buy loads of books, often for no particular reason. For some reason, I felt embarrassed asking my father for money. When I asked her, my mother would give it to me either from her own earnings or by getting it from my father. Money in women’s purses and toothpaste in tubes—both are alike. They never seem to run out completely; you can always squeeze out a little bit. My mother still tutors students. Why does she teach now? Why did my mother teach students then? My mother has taught many people for free as well. The joy of teaching can never be bought with money. How grown-up they’ve all become! They’re doing well for themselves. They still remember my mother. My mother loves teaching dearly. My mother is alone. I don’t have a sister—we’re two brothers. Who would my mother chat with? That’s why my mother likes to teach. Time doesn’t pass easily for my mother, it never did before either. To spend time pleasantly, my mother taught students then and teaches now. It keeps her spirits up. She has less time to gossip about others. The feeling of being self-reliant gives everyone immense joy. Now the question is, how did my mother manage everything in the household alongside tutoring students? Through tremendous mental and physical effort. My mother’s world was small! Her wants and needs were few. Husband, children, family, and some books, songs, movies—this was my mother’s little world. Her sons’ happiness was her happiness. Before our exams, she’d sometimes stop tutoring and teach us herself. She’d always take us to our teachers’ homes. My father was very shy by nature. My mother would talk to all the teachers. I doubt she got even five hours of good sleep each day! If women can pay such attention to their homes, what’s the problem with them having jobs? My mother received complete support from my father in this regard. Just as we call our mother “Ma,” we call our father “Baba” too. Children don’t belong to the mother alone.
# Life’s Necessities
Livelihood. That much is fine. But livelihood shouldn’t become life itself out of necessity. So much gets lost that way, doesn’t it? Love is lost, happiness is lost, affection is lost. The family could be more beautiful, but it isn’t. Problems that remain unspoken and cannot be spoken keep growing. Women go to work out of household needs. In such cases, the man too must make many compromises. Household duties must be shared. It’s for him or his family that the woman can’t pay proper attention to the children, isn’t it? Both parents have roles to play in this regard.
What is life like?…………
Wherever you are, however it is! That’s just it! I mean,
life has so many, many, many colors beyond
what I write here. Those colors have a much broader spectrum. In families where there’s no father,
or where the father is there but absent,
the mother has no choice but to step out
to hold things together. Just because a family requires the wife to work doesn’t necessarily mean
the children will become unsafe.
The number of working mothers who are caring
is certainly not small. God created women with
an extraordinary mental framework. The way women can adapt so beautifully to time and circumstances—
mastering that art is beyond
even men’s capability. To give children security and a healthy, normal childhood and adolescence,
what’s needed most is awareness and, in some cases, a measured degree of suspicion. For the sake of a safe
childhood and adolescence, the closer parents can be to their children, the better. The lure of extra money through investing extra time often initiates
additional troubles in life.