Served the breast-tax

The day before the history exam (Social Studies), it was my mom who studied the whole book and taught me what was in each chapter. I tried to note down the years and the crucial events, believing that I would fail for sure, and only god could help me. But somehow, I landed on the margin of the pass mark, and I moved on to the next class. This was my way of learning history. I still wonder how I passed just by listening to my mother's recitations. I bow down to her strength and patience to sit down with me without raising her voice, with endurance and confidence as she prepared for my exam.  

It was an era when the Mahabharata and Ramayana were broadcast on Sundays on the Doordarshan channel. I always stuck to the story of Ramayana as it was simple, while the Mahabharata had too many characters and too much to handle. But it was always the travel that intrigued me. The history behind the monuments, palaces, caves, and many others. The stories shared by travel guides, the movies, books, and stories of our ancestors. If not everything that I could recall, there was always something that struck my mind.

One such act was the practice of Sati during historical times, where a Hindu widow immolates herself on her husband's funeral pyre. The cruelty of a ritual carried out under the banner, 'the ultimate sacrifice.'

It was when I started watching a Tamil movie called "Aadai" that I realized I had never even heard of a sacrifice, both compelling and striking. 

Over time, the tales would have evolved from true stories to fiction, or perhaps they were never in the books, or maybe a story with different narratives, scripts rewritten, or passed down orally. I don't know, but if someone told me it happened, I wouldn't say, "I don't believe it!"

I found it interesting and thought it would be worth writing it down here, a glimpse of the event that unfolded and created history. 

The Tamil movie, Aadai( meaning 'dress'), led by a female character, Kamini, focuses on the impact of creating pranks as part of the job to gain traction on social media, ultimately leading to a loss of touch with reality. It starts with a thrill, and you find Kamini, who is bold and daring, stuck in a building with no clothing, and how she carried on until the end, facing the consequences that follow, revealing the plot. It is an interesting watch. 

But what really caught my eye was the story that was played before the actual movie began. 

The story of Nangeli

In the early 19th century, when India was under British rule, various taxes were in effect. One notable category was the "breast tax," not imposed by the British but by the upper-caste authorities of Travancore, a kingdom in southern Kerala, India, well-known for its high literacy and progressive state. 

At the height of caste discrimination and untouchability, the breast tax, known as Mulakkaram in the language Malayalam, was imposed as a means to differentiate social status and hierarchies. The importance of highlighting where one's position belongs and stands. The upper-caste women were allowed to cover their breasts, while the lower-caste women were to display their bare breasts to keep them uncovered outside the house in public. The purpose of representing the lower caste and shaming them with the use of power to exploit. The wealth and prosperity worn by the upper caste on every path to rule. It was even said that there were measures taken to calculate and weigh so as to charge based on the growth in size, which doesn't seem unbelievable. The cruelty was explicitly placed to show power and inequality at their worst. 

To revoke the "Breast Tax" levied on the lower-caste women in the land of Travancore, a rebellious woman arose ferociously and created a historical mark. Already aroused by the differences in the caste systems. One fine day, she, Nangeli, chose to cover her bare breasts with a cloth and stood upright, facing the storm. Nangeli, who belonged to the backward caste, Ezhava, was married and lived with her husband in the town of Cherthala at that time. No one in the lower-caste had any power but to follow the rules set out by the upper-caste administration and authorities. When confronted by the village tax officials, she stood by her rights, bold and courageous, holding on to her right to cover her body and raising her protest against the injustice and the feudalistic structure.

Threatened by the groping hands, eyes, and voices to seize her, she struggled her way and emerged her way out with valor and a roar, holding the curved knife, 'Aruvaal', up high in the air as an aggressive cry. Representing a symbolism, as the curved knife was specifically used to cut and carve out the coconut head to fulfill one's thirst. 

With a stroke of a pulse, she cut both of her breasts right in front of everyone and placed them in the green plantain leaf to serve. Presenting the rigid, implausible rules set by the oppressive caste system. She lay down in victory of serving the interminable breast tax.

Shocked by the sight, the thick blood bursting onto the floor spewing into the eyes of the devious, there was chaos around when she took her last breath, which ultimately led to the revocation of the breast tax in the state of Travancore, from then on. History was marked at her funeral when her husband took his life by jumping into the funeral pyre. The first time I ever heard a man sacrifice.

Although the caste system persists and differences still exist beneath, every story weighs the voice that protests against injustice and inequality. The call and cry for belonging and human rights, continues to fight.

Somewhere deep down, it feels like everything comes down to the mere fact, "It's a girl."

And yet, the pride in women hails in the fierce stand taken with a breath of calm sighting the storm that no one can defeat. 

The name Nangeli, meaning "beautiful one," marked a remembrance in history, and the place where she died was called Mulachiparambu, the land of the breasted woman.

As I scroll through some more histories that flash my mind with this challenge, I would like to end with a note that now, I love the Mahabharata more than the Ramayana. Every chapter deciphering the character is amazing to venture into. It is very rare to find a child named 'Duryodhan,' as it is believed that the name carries misfortune and lots of negative traits, given the Mahabharata. But Duryodhan actually  means 'difficult to conquer.'

As and when I observe, I see myself in every aspect, the play of the Mahabharata within. I think it hasn't left out even a single crumb of life as it offers every experience. It has only shown a way to walk the path forward.

History becomes astounding when narrated in a way that the ears can't walk away, but to learn and share with a tinge of insight brewing within. Counting every step of travel, the talk of the town delights even more, reflecting on the histories of the world, still leaving me on the tracks to wander and wonder. 

Why didn't I find history class interesting? 

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For refe: https://www.theindegenous.org/post/breast-tax-story-of-nangeli

https://en.themooknayak.com/bahujan-nayak/nangelis-sacrifice-channar-revolt-a-legacy-of-resistance-against-caste-based-oppression-in-kerala

https://gnomemag.com/breast-tax-in-ancient-india/

Movie: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt8944398/

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