Grandmother’s legacy: Celebrating daughters

Dr Navkiran Kaur Panesar

My grandparents were over the moon when I was born, the first girl after three generations of men, and jubilantly told friends and acquaintances that their family was now complete. Needless to say, I was the apple of their eyes, especially my grandmother’s, who had always wanted a daughter.

My grandmother’s birth had also been celebrated with much fanfare, which was quite unusual in the 20th century when girls were largely thought to be “burdens.”

She was born in 1940, in an era when the birth of a girl disappointed parents as women were believed to be liabilities. Thankfully, people’s mindset has changed in the 21st century, and women, too, have smashed glass ceilings in almost all fields, proving that they are in no way inferior to men.

The story of her birth was one of the many stories she regaled me with at my request. On returning from school, she was my first port of call as both my parents were busy with their teaching jobs at Guru Nanak Dev University (GNDU) and she always had a fascinating story or anecdote for me. Now, back to the story of her birth.

My great-grandparents, who already had three sons, welcomed my grandmother, whom I call dadima, with all the ceremony and pomp usually reserved for a long-awaited son.

My great-grandparents rewarded the Muslim midwife, who supervised dadima’s birth, with a pair of gold ear studs and ₹101, a princely sum in those days. Sweets were distributed among all neighbours and her first Lohri was also a lavish affair. “It was grander than my brothers’ first Lohri,” she would say with pride.

The midwife, dadima told me, migrated to Pakistan after the Partition of India in 1947. Years later, when she came to visit my great grandparents in Batala, the first thing she did was, ask about the whereabouts of her “lucky charm,” which is what she called my dadima. “Where is my daughter, who to me is more than a son?” she had asked.

No wonder dadima always wanted a daughter of her own!

Just before my father’s birth, she had written to my grandfather, who was abroad at the time, to bring a pink dress if the newborn was a girl, but as a boy was born, a blue outfit was duly purchased for him.

After two sons, my dadima wanted to try for a daughter, but my grandfather, a votary of the slogan, ‘hum do, hamare do’ overruled her.

Dadima’s prayers were finally answered when I was born, four years after my brother.

When she took to bed, fighting many morbidities, I was always by her side ensuring that she took her medicines on time. She passed away a few weeks ago, and mine was the last name she uttered before falling into a slumber, never to awaken again.

THE MUSLIM MIDWIFE, WHO SUPERVISED GRANDMOTHER’S BIRTH, WAS REWARDED WITH A PAIR OF GOLD EAR STUDS AND ₹101, A PRINCELY SUM IN THE 1940S