Heralding Motherhood

A Pregnant woman in Ayurvedic parlance is called a dowhrudhuni the one with two hearts. And one takes extra care and caution to warm the cockles of not just one but two hearts. Mangoes, fresh ash, exotic dishes, bitter concoctions and sometimes even pieces of chalk there is no telling what the expectant mother would desire. The family is only too pleased to lblige their little girl who has now grown up to be a mother herself. There are two important caremonies conducted for the pregnant woman by her kith and kin. In the fifth month, comes the poo-choottal caremony or decking with flowers, arranged by her parents. For this an exotic plait with fresh flowers is twined into her braid. For the function, the expecting mother is clad in black silk to ward off evil-eye. Sandal And turmeric is applied on her hands followed by the women folk decking dozens of colouful glass bangles on both her hands. Flowers in hair, loands of tinkling bangles. smug happiness and a swollen stomach-that is the pretty picture she makes. After poo choottal ususally a photograph is arranged for in a nearby studio. Nowdays, this bangle decking caremony is clubbed along with the seemandham. The seemandham is a slightly larger function arranged by the girl's inlaws, in the eighth month. After the caremony the pregnant woman is taken back to her paternal home for delivery.

The word seemandham literally means the hair parting just above the brow. It is believed that the Goddess of Wealth, Lakshmi, resides in that parting.(That is why the practice of applying kumkum on the parting, as a manner of propitiating Lakshmi stated there.) And when a woman delivers a child, she is considered the mbodiment of Goddess Lakshmi herself. During the seemandham ritual amidst raising holy chants, a porcupine quill is mildly scratched on the hair parting of the pregnant woman, symboliclly cleaving the delivery passage open for easy downward movement of the child. That is not all. Two youngish girls are called upon to grind aala bud, grains and cow's milk. The concoction is then squeezed into the preganant woman's nose. This is believed to receive the child inside. Small children are made to chant Boy-Girl, Boy-Girl, Boy-Girl. The pregnant woman is made to bend and gentle pounds fall on her back with chant Boy-Girl, Boy-Girl. Depending on where the pound finishes, one guesses if it would be a boy or a girl. (Usually, the pounding is deliberately stopped just when the word Boy falls at the end of the incantation.) It is an interesting exercise to see, on what basis people make their guesses about the yetborn baby's sex. This is much before sex-determining scans were done. "You look so ugly since pregnancy, surely it must be a boy inside you." Or "these days, your face has bloomed. It is glowing. You have Lakshmi inside you." In some households, there is the practice of tying some white kozhukattais and brown appans in the saree folds. Small children are called upon to dip into the saree pouch to pick the white or the brown sweet. If the child picked out a white kozhukkattai, there was much jubiiation as a baby-boy was ensured. But my grandmother Sitamma had a sure shot way of gauging what child it would be. Sitamma had her four cows. In an incredible coincidence, at least one of the cows would be pregnant too whenever one of her daughters got pregnant. If the cow delivered a female, then according to Sitamma, her daughter would deliver a son. If the cow begot a male, then it would be a grial arriving. Believe it or not, this logic has never failed. While on one hand, the poo choottals and seemandhams have been performed with religious meticulousness and unbroken fastidiousness for ages, it is strange how basic things like a doctor's assistance during delivery has been overlooked.

My own grandmother Sitamma, delivered many a child within the house premises, many a time withour a proper doctor waiting on her. The starting fact is that, many in the house knew the baby had arrived only after the baby announced itself with its lusty cry. Sitamma had not even whimprered. "What did you want to prove, by not even whimpering? I ask angrily. Sitamma Shuffles away. But I know what her answers would be. "Men folk should not know your pain," she would have said, if he was not so wary of my peroration, which she knew would follow. But frankly, it is a miracle that women like Sitamma have managed to give birth to fives and tens of children in alarmingly nonantiseptic surroundings and are still going strong. When her daughters were arriving for delivery, Sitamma gave them, all she did not have as an expectant mother. Regular check ups with a doctor, rich food and undisturbed sleep. Wheather malnourished or well looked after, wheather assisted by a doctor or not, there has been one underlying commonality amidst most pregnant women in our country. They all wanted their first born to be a son. The climate is such, the psyche is such. But perhaps today we are learning to value a beautiful healthy baby for itself-and wish for only health and happi ness for our child no matter what the gender. And value the little baby girl who will, after all be the mother of future generations...