The Color Red
(CONTINUED FROM PAGE 37)
had a long talk about spiritual values
that stayed on my mind afterward. I
thought, ‘Maybe that’s why the others
are nice to me.’”
She’d been surprised to learn some-
one in the group would give her ani-
mals she could raise, earning the first
income in her life. More surprising was
the idea that she would eventually pass
on that favor to another. “I had given
away some vegetables once, but never a
big thing. This was a new idea for me. It
gave me new energy for living.”
Menuka’s mother-in-law also found
herself energized by the workshops,
as first they tackled sanitation and
nutrition, then gender and caste. She
decided Menuka should come to meet-
ings, too. “The discussions made us
start thinking about how women treat
other women,” Menuka said. “The fact
that widows carry shame. It’s women
who make their daughters follow these
rules.” Her mother-in-law agreed.
Talking about unspeakable things had
caused her to think about what was
hers, to keep or to let go. “Girls wear
bright colors and bangles before they
get married,” she reasoned. “So being
happy is not just a privilege of mar-
riage. My son is dead. But my daughter-
in-law is not.”
Menuka was every inch alive as we
sat waiting for the Women’s Togeth-
erness ceremony to begin. Fourteen
women who’d earned income from
their goats would now pass on the
offspring to newer members. The do-
nors wore red saris; the new initiates
wore lavender. The whole village had
turned out. I felt hope rise, and soon
was crying like a child, because Dhana
Bishow-Karma, whose old untouch-
able hand I’d wanted to hold, was now
standing, throwing her shadow over
everyone, holding her gift: a lop-eared
goat wearing a necklace of marigolds.
She walked toward her chosen recipi-
ent, another poor widow belonging to
the highest caste in the village. Last
year Bishow-Karma couldn’t have en-
tered the woman’s (CONTINUED ON PAGE 74)
