This isn’t a male-bashing story. Neither is it a story about a 30+ woman and her passive-aggressive quibbles. The story is pretty simple. I am an over-excited new mom and it was time for my son’s Annaprashan. A few days over 5 months, my boy needed to be fed solid food for the first time. Bengal, the much revered and adored state I come from, regards this day as one of the biggest and most important in a child’s life.
Plus, I don’t mind the can’t-be-finished-ever amount of food and desserts this day demands. Naturally, I wanted to do it for my son.
The funny thing, however, was the fact that I was told I needed his Maama (Maternal Uncle) to do the holy ritual of feeding him. Apparently, the gods wanted it that way. Well, I don’t agree.
I don’t think the gods wanted anything else other than the child to move on from latching onto my breasts every time he is hungry and try some real food for crying out loud. The gods have also willfully and quite generously gifted me with a brain along with a conscience that is perfectly capable of telling crap from gold.
I do not have a brother. Therefore, my son doesn’t have a Maama. He, however, has a Maashi with two good hands that can feed him exactly the way a Maama would. Voila! Problem (non-existent) solved.
If I say I broke a tradition that’s been going on since the Vedic age, I might get looked at as a feminist who refuses to follow misogynistic practices and does what she thinks is right without caring about some relatives/ people who might raise eyebrows or even get hurt.
The truth is I am exactly that and also quite unequivocal when required. I refused to go looking for a substitute distant cousin or Dharam Maama and gave my sister the right she was born with. The right to call my son her own the way a Maama would. And if in the process someone did get hurt, I am sorry but honestly, not sorry.
Meanwhile, stay safe, stay healthy and share this story if you like it. It might bring upon just the right kind of inspiration and reassurance we all need from time to time.