In one of the cases that came up for adjudication before the Madras High Court on the issue of succession, the facts of the case was that the plaintiff/appellant claimed to be the wife of the deceased man and according to her, he died leaving behind the plaintiff/appellant and the children as his heirs to succeed to the properties mentioned in the schedule. The case of the respondents was that the plaintiff was not the wife of the deceased and the children were not born out of lawful wedlock. The court elaborately considered the materials available and observed that the main question that arose for their consideration in the appeal was whether there was a marriage between the plaintiff/appellant and the deceased. The fact that the latter belonged to “Devadasi” community and that there were no witnesses alive to speak about the alleged marriage between them was admitted. In this context, the court considered it relevant to refer to the status of a “devadasi” woman. It drew reference to the Madras Hindu Religious and Charitable Endowments Act, 1951, which defined “Devadasi” as follows: “For the purpose of this section, “devadasi” shall mean any Hindu unmarried female, who is dedicated to a temple.” Consequentially, it was held that it is clear that there was a practice prevalent in this part of the country prior to 1948 dedicating women as “Devadasis” to Hindu deities, idols and temples, and they were incapable of entering into a valid marriage and the factum of invalidity of marriage was a ratio decidendi (reason for deciding), which formed the basis of the judgement that dismissed the appeal. A careful reading of the facts and reasoning in the judgement reveals the extent of the social and economic injustice that has resulted from this practice. Although Tamil Nadu, Karnataka, Andhra Pradesh and Maharashtra have enacted specific legislations prohibiting the Devadasi system, the abolition has remained largely symbolic, with little real impact. It is in this significant context that Arun Ezhuthachan라이브 바카라 Sacred Sins, a comprehensive research and study on the condition of Devadasis in contemporary India, assumes great relevance.
The book takes us through an extensive journey undertaken by Ezhuthachan over seven years in the exploration of truth across the breadth and length of the country. A conversation heard in Karnataka led the author to Andhra Pradesh and a story heard in Mumbai urged him to go to Ujjain or Puri to learn more. It was his article ‘What have we done to be made Devadasis’ featured in Malayala Manorama (February 2, 2014) about Devadasis being initiated in Uchangi that drew the attention of the Supreme Court, setting in motion the government machineries to look into the conditions of Devadasis.
An investigative study following an announcement in 2008 to shut down dance bars in Mangaluru led the author to research the lives of women who had lost their livelihoods, particularly as the government had made no effort to rehabilitate or reintegrate them into mainstream society. Surprisingly, the research uncovered a disturbing practice in Uchangi, located 30 km east of Davanagere in western Karnataka. On the full moon night of the month of Magha in the Indian calendar, devotees gathered at the Uchangi temple, and thousands of young girls, after being blessed by the moon, were taken to the sanctum sanctorum and declared as Devadasis. The book systematically explores how the marginalised sections of society are exploited in the name of religion by those in power.
In many cases, whether in Haranapalli, Rajahmundry or Davanagere, poverty and unbearable living conditions forced marginalised families to give up their daughters, either willingly or reluctantly, in exchange for the promise of two square meals a day. In some instances, the girls initially begged at the temple or took on odd jobs for survival, but in most cases, upper-caste men or landlords conspired to create fear in the name of religion, coercing the girls to surrender their bodies in the name of faith. The book also exposes a shocking reality as to how some of the temples maintained outhouses that were rented by devotees to spend the night with Devadasi women before proceeding for morning darshan to pay obeisance to God. This revelation highlights the collusion between religion, patriarchy and the caste system, which manipulated customs to suit the needs of powerful men, camouflaging these practices in the guise of divine sanction.
It is also narrated as to how, before the ban in 1988, ‘bhoghmelas’ were conducted in places like Rajamundhry, and what began as classical dance and music shows soon gave way to sexually-laden performances. The festivals most often ended with landlords inviting the women to their chambers. The plight of Radhas of Vrindavan, who in the name of God are compelled to see Krishna in his supposed human avatars, the jogammas at Saundatti, the mujra dancers of Ujjain and the entrapped women of Kamathipura are testimonies of deep-entrenched inequalities perpetrated by the caste system and patriarchy.
The book, in all honesty, underlines the raw truth that despite the legal frameworks, the Devadasi system continues to exist, albeit in hidden forms, operating as an institutionalised form of exploitation of women. It raises critical questions regarding the rights of children of devadasis, their access to education, legitimacy and inheritance. The girls who are coerced into sexual partnerships by men in the name of this custom often end up on the streets, falling into deeper exploitative situations, and as they grow old, they become more vulnerable. The narrative also sheds light on the efforts of dedicated social workers to improve the condition. However, the magnitude of the issue demands more than just individual efforts. India has witnessed significant transformation since the 1990s in terms of globalisation and economic opportunities. Equally important has been the changes in the legal landscape brought about by the amendments in criminal law and the enactment of new legislations to ensure quicker trial and enhanced punishment with respect to crimes against women. The intervention of the Supreme Court is a historical measure—framing the guidelines in Vishaka Vs State of Rajasthan. The setting up of the Justice J. S. Verma Committee, which ultimately led to the enactment of the legislation, Sexual Harassment of Women at Workplace (Prevention, Prohibition and Redressal) Act, 2013, affirming India라이브 바카라 commitment to the United Nations Convention on Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women; the enactment of the Protection of Children from Sexual Offences Act; the amendments in Bharatiya Nyay Sanhita, which prescribes stricter punishments, are all positive steps towards transformation. Recently, the Supreme Court in Aureliano Fernades Vs State of Goa reaffirmed its commitment to the guidelines laid down in the Vishakha judgement. A plethora of these legislative and judicial measures cohesively aligns with the Directive Principles of State Policy. However, the sense of urgency created by this book is also that of the need to bring about legislative and judicial measures to ensure the inclusivity of these marginalised sections of society. As rightly articulated by Ezhuthachan, the need is to focus on the question of livelihoods to bring about a positive and sustainable change. He believes that Sonagachi and Kamathipura can be banned in a day, but in that case, girls like Charu, who had to abandon their revolution in the name of hunger, and Diya, whose parents sold her off, will have to sell their bodies on the streets. We can pretend not to see them, but they will continue to exist.
A significant work of translation from Malayalam, Sacred Sins has been masterfully translated by Meera Gopinath. These untold stories of Devadasis throw up more questions than answers. However, it also offers a much-needed beacon of hope, serving as a catalyst for greater change.
(Views expressed are personal)
Smitha Sehgal is a poet and legal professional
