Escaping the World: Women Renouncers among Jains 9780415500814, 9781003157274, 9781138662391

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Escaping the World

South Asian History and Culture Series Editors: David Washbrook, University of Cambridge, UK Boria Majumdar, University of Central Lancashire, UK Sharmistha Gooptu, South Asia Research Foundation, India Nalin Mehta, Institute of South Asian Studies, National University of Singapore This series brings together research on South Asia in the humanities and social sciences, and provides scholars with a platform covering, but not restricted to, their particular fields of interest and specialisation. A significant concern for the series is to focus across the whole of the region known as South Asia, and not simply on India, as is often the case. We are most conscious of this gap in South Asian studies and work to bring into focus more scholarship on and from Pakistan, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Nepal and other parts of South Asia. At the same time, there will be a conscious attempt to publish regional studies, which will open up new aspects of scholarly inquiry going into the future. This series will consciously initiate synergy between research from within academia and that from outside the formal academy. A focus will be to bring into the mainstream more recently developed disciplines in South Asian studies which have till date remained in the nature of specialised fields: for instance, research on film, media, photography, sport, medicine, environment, to mention a few. The series will address this gap and generate more comprehensive knowledge fields. Also in this Series ‘How Best Do We Survive?’ A Modern Political History of the Tamil Muslims Kenneth McPherson 978-0-415-58913-0 Health, Culture and Religion in South Asia: Critical Perspectives Editors: Assa Doron and Alex Broom 978-81-89643-16-4 Gujarat beyond Gandhi: Identity, Confict and Society Editors: Nalin Mehta and Mona Mehta 978-81-89643-17-1 India’s Foreign Relations, 1947–2007 Jayanta Kumar Ray 978-0-415-59742-5 Land, Water, Language and Politics in Andhra: Regional Evolution in India since 1850 Brian Stoddart 978-0-415-67795-0 Scoring Off the Field: Football Culture in Bengal, 1911–1980 Kausik Bandyopadhyay 978-0-415-67800-1 Religious Cultures in Early Modern India: New Perspectives Editors: Rosalind O’Hanlon and David Washbrook 978-81-89643-18-8

Escaping the World Women Renouncers among Jains

Manisha Sethi

LONDON NEW YORK NEW DELHI

First published 2012 in India by Routledge 912 Tolstoy House, 15–17 Tolstoy Marg, Connaught Place, New Delhi 110 001

Simultaneously published in the UK by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, OX14 4RN

Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business

© 2012 Manisha Sethi

Typeset by Star Compugraphics Private Limited 5, CSC, Near City Apartments Vasundhara Enclave Delhi 110 096

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the publishers.

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

ISBN: 978-0-415-50081-4

Contents List of Plates and Figures List of Tables Acknowledgements Glossary 1. Introduction

vii ix xi xiii 1

2. Theorising Renunciation: Possibilities and Limitations

20

3. Nuns and Temptresses: Representing Women in Jainism

51

4. The Making of a Sadhvi: Claims and Counterclaims

87

5. Ethics of Care: Individual and the Institutional

131

6. Idealised Lives: Biographies of Two Iconic Nuns

191

7. Some Concluding Thoughts

200

Appendix Bibliography About the Author Index

221 226 232 233

List of Plates and Figures Plates 5.1

Newspaper reports announcing the diksha of three young girls in Agra in the summer of 2002 141 5.2 A banner announcing the diksha of Preeti Jain, April 2008, New Delhi 146 5.3 The diksharthi Preeti Jain being taken around the neighbourhood in a shobha yatra 147 5.4 Preeti receiving instructions from a senior monk 147 5.5 The newly initiated sadhvi turns towards the samaj and offers her greetings 148 5.6 The newly initiated sadhvi is received by her guru behens and guruni at the conclusion of the diksha 148 5.7 Preeti’s guruni plucks out a tuft of hair behind a sheet of cloth 149 5.8 A Terapanthi nun with her vessels 157 5.9 Invitation card to the programme celebrating the entry of Sadhvi Dinmani in Jaipur to spend her chaturmas, 2002 182 5.10 Frontispiece of a commemorative volume for Sthankavasi Sadhvi Mahasati Sundardevi ji 189 6.1 7.1

Frontispiece of the graphic volume Agnipath par Badhte Charan

193

Photographs of two young girls prior to their diksha in Agra, 2002

218

Figures 1.1 1.2

Parivar of Sumangla sri ji (Tapa Gacch, Murtipujak Jain) Parivar of Mahasati Kesar devi ji (Sthanakvasi)

15 15

2.1 2.2

Female monastic hierarchy among the Tapa Gacch Female monastic hierarchy among the Terapanthis

42 44

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4.1 5.1

A Escaping the World

Worldly and spiritual lineage of Sumangla ji (Sthanakvasi Jain)

108

Comparing Hindu and Jain transactions

162

List of Tables 4.1 4.2 4.3 4.4

Census of the Jain mendicant population 87 The distribution of 1,000 of each sex of various communities according to their civil condition as per 1931 Census 88 Occupational backgrounds of sadhvis’ worldly families 95 Distribution of educational standards of nuns 125

Acknowledgements This book has had a long career through which I accumulated many debts, but above all I wish to thank Prof. Dipankar Gupta whose sound advice and unrelenting insistence upon ‘conceptualisation and categorisation’ rescued this work from lapsing into an unwieldy mass of data and narrative. This project originally began under the guidance of Prof. R. K. Jain. I record with fondness his support in helping me formulate the problem. Several people and institutions helped me during the course of this research in numerous ways. Veer Sagar Jain, Savita Jain and Lokesh Jain introduced me to Jain mendicants and also patiently responded to my queries. Bal Patil was generous in sharing his knowledge of Jain law, especially Jain widow inheritance rights, with me. The secretary of the Atma Vallabh Jain Society and his wife were gracious hosts at the initiation ceremony of a female mendicant at Rohini, Delhi. The Management at Moti Dungri, Jaipur allowed me to stay at their guest house, free of charge. Kunda Kunda Bharati and Anuvrata Bhawan in Delhi could always be depended upon for information. Shagun C. Jain of International Summer School of Jaina Studies was munificent in face of my urgent, last minute clarifications. Friends and family were a source of joy and much-needed distractions — I am grateful for the warmth of these relationships. Special thanks to Tanweer for cheerfully driving me to various sthanaks and upashrays. Earlier drafts of the work were proofed by my friends and colleagues, Sohaib and Deepkanta (aka Toto). Colleagues at Biblio and Jamia took the drudgery out of ‘work’. I am touched by the intellectual generosity of Prof. John E. Cort who commented on my work and offered me encouragement. Above all, the greatest debts incurred are to the Jain nuns who indulged me and my endless questions. This book could not have been written without their cooperation and keen interest in my work. Sincere thanks are due to the copy-editor for reading the draft so closely and diligently — as also to the editorial team at Routledge, New Delhi for overseeing the publication. Finally, the usual disclaimer: all faults of omission and commission rest solely with me.

Glossary aarti abala abhang acharya

adholoka

Agama agrini/agriganiya/agriganini ahara aharadana ahimsa ailaka

akela amantran ammapitisamane ananda anga

aparigraha

the lamp waving ceremony delicate or feeble woman devotional hymns composed by Marathi saint–poets literally ‘teacher’; refers commonly to a title bestowed upon the most senior leader of a group of mendicants, appointed or elected the lower world, the realm of the Jain universe which is the abode of infernal beings and certain demigods canonical literature of the Jains, scripture leader of a group of female mendicants among Shvetambars food ritual gifting of food to mendicants non-violence the stage in which a Digambar Jain reduces his possessions to a single piece of cloth, usually in preparation for embracing the vow of total renunciation solitary invitation comparable to parents pleasure literally ‘limb’; a class of Agamic/ canonical literature comprising twelve texts The vow of non-possession. It is the fifth of the mahavratas (the greater vows) for mendicants and the anuvratas (the lesser vows) for the laity.

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arhat

artha aryika ashcharya ashrama asmita asteya atma

atma kalyana Avashyaka Sutra ayambila

bhajan bhakta bhatisamane bhattaraka

bhava

bhavalinga

bhavana bhavanapunsaka bhavapurusha bhavastri bhikku/bhikshu bhikshachari bhojanshala

Translated as ‘one who is worthy of worship’. It is used as a synonym for a Jina or a Tirthankara. profit a fully initiated Digambar nun wonderment/extraordinary occurrence the doctrine of life stages; religious retreat or hermitage honour, dignity the vow of non-stealing Soul, or that which is sentient. In some mystical Jain traditions, it also refers to an innate pure soul. welfare of the self/soul an early Jain text listing the six obligatory (avashyaka) duties for mendicants a Shvetambar practice of eating one meal a day of bland and sour foods such as barley gruel, boiled rice, etc. hymns of praise devotee like a brother a class of Digambar Jain clerics, who were celibate but non-initiated, linked to pontifical centres feeling, mental attitude or intention that underlies a ritual action such as gifting or worship the psychic characteristics of a sex, including emotions and sexual orientation feelings, state of mind, presentiment hermaphrodite by psychology male by psychology female by psychology mendicant the alms collected by a mendicant kitchen

Glossary A xv

brahmacharini brahmacharya

chaitanya chapati chappal charita chaturmas

Chaturvidhsangha chaumasa chintamani dadaji dana darshana

deva-rina dhanyavaad dharamshala Dharmashastras

dholak diksha diksharthi diksha-path doha

a lower order of female novice among Digambars Celibacy or abstinence from sexual activity. This is the fourth of the five mahavratas and anuvratas. consciousness of the soul Indian bread slippers biography The four-month rainy period when mendicants cease their travels and take up residence in a fixed place. It begins in June/July and lasts till October/November. the fourfold division of Jain society into monks, nuns, laymen and laywomen see chaturmas a precious gem grandfather ritual gifting, as to nuns and monks the reverential viewing of the images of tirthankaras, non-liberated gods and deities, and mendicants; also the soul’s quality of perception debt to gods expression of thanks pilgrims’ rest house A category of texts composed circa 2nd century onwards, generally in verse, laying down social norms. Manusmriti is the most famous example of this class of texts. a small drum initiation into mendicancy a novice the recitation of scriptures during the initiation ceremony a stanza of Hindi poetry

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dravya dravyalinga

dravyanapunsaka dravyapurusha dravyastri dukha dvesha ekavihara Gachh gachhadhipati gahapati gana ganadhara ganadhipati ganin

ganini gochari gorji grihastha grihasthavas gunasthana

gupti guru behen gurudharana

guruni

substance biological genders determined on the basis of primary and secondary sexual features hermaphrodite by gender male by gender female by gender sorrow hatred or aversion solitary wandering a unit which includes both a lineage of mendicants and their lay followers head of a Gacch householder a residence unit for mendicants first mendicant disciples of a Tirthankar the retired acharya among the Terapanthis title of a monk who leads a small group of monks that lives and travels together the female counterpart of ganin term for food gathering rounds of Jain mendicants an honorific used for the Shvetambar yatis householdership see grihastha fourteen stages of spiritual development through which the soul is progressively cleansed restraint fellow female disciple a word or formula given by the guru on which the disciple must concentrate and meditate female preceptor

Glossary A xvii

gyan himsa

jamai japa jhagda Jina jinakalpin jivit satimata jyeshtha kalyana marga kama karma bandhana karmabhumi karman kasaya katha kavach kaya shuddhi kevalgyan; also kaivalya kevalin khhichdi komal komalta kshullika kram labha labhdi

knowledge. It is one of the qualities of the soul. Violence or harming. Jain texts define it not only as bodily harm but also those actions, speech and thoughts that are done out of carelessness and driven by passions. son-in-law muttering prayers or telling beads quarrel, fight spiritual victor; used synonymously for Mahavira a mendicant whose model of conduct is based on the life of Mahavira women who combine wifely and ascetic duties seniority the path which takes one to salvation sensual pleasure bondage; influx of karma realm of action karmic matter passion story shield purity of body Omniscience. It means perfect and absolute knowledge. one who has attained omniscience gruel gentle adjective for komal or gentle a class of Digambar female novice or advanced laywomen series merit accumulated through ritual activities such as dana and puja supernatural powers

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lajja lehenga linga locha madhyaloka madya mahashramana mahattara mahavrata

mahurat maithuna mandala mandapa

mandir mangala path mangalika mann shuddhi mansa manushya gati

maryada masti mastishka matha maya

shame, bashfulness traditional skirt gender; also external sign or emblem plucking of one’s hair by hand the middle abode, where human beings are found wine head of munis in the Terapanthi order a special title bestowed upon senior and learned nuns among the Murtipujaks The five greater vows that mendicants undertake at the time of initiation, and to which they must adhere through their lives. auspicious moment sexual intercourse a unit of mendicants an open hall; a temporary building, shed or pavilion, adorned with flowers, and erected on festive occasions such as marriages and initiation ceremonies temple a formula of auspicious blessings see mangala path purity of mind meat Human destiny, i.e., to be born a human. Jainism conceives of four kinds of destinies or states of embodiments that a soul may be reborn as deva (god), manushya (human), naraki (hell-dweller) and triyancha (plants and animals). the bounds of law and custom pleasurable abandon brain monastery deceit, illusion

Glossary A xix

meena mehendi mittasamane moksha mudra muhpatti

mumukshu

muni nagar namakaran napunsakalinga napunsakaveda navpada oli

nimitta nirdeshika nirgrantha nirgranthi nirjara niryojika nitya sumangali niyama nupura padvi pancha

fish henna like a friend liberation or salvation mystic intertwining of the fingers mouth shields, a small rectangular piece of cloth that is placed in front of the mouth used by Shvetambar mendicants to avoid harm to minute beings an intermediate class of laywomen who have taken the vow of celibacy but not yet ordained into the monastic order; found among the Terapanthis male mendicant city, town conferment of a name hermaphrodite a third type of sexuality Jain festival that last for nine days, twice a year, when adherents undertake fasts. The first one falls in the bright fortnight of Ashwina month (September/October) and the second during the bright fortnight of Chaitra month (March/April). cause, motive, reason chief of a group of samanis see nirgranthi the bondless one the wearing away of karma from the soul, leading to its purification. head of all samanis of Terapanth eternal bride rules of conduct anklet title, rank five

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panchakalyana panchakalyanak samaroh/mahotsav pani-patra panth papa parampara parivar pata pativrata pativratadharma patra pitra-rina prabandha pramukha prana prana pratishtha praneshwar pratigya pratikramana

pratilekhna pratima pravachana pravartaka pravarttini pravesh pravrajya puja pujaka pujaniya

the five auspicious events in the life of a Tirthankar the celebration of these five events hand bowl sect sin/harmful karmas tradition immediate family a low wooden seat a faithful wife who displays the correct attitude towards her husband the law prescribed for a faithful wife bowl debt to the ancestors essay chief vital breath, life; spirit, soul the ritual action of establishing life in an icon/image lord of one’s life vow confession of and repentance for faults that one has committed or for infraction of one’s vows the meticulous inspection of one’s clothes for tiny life forms stages of renunciation for a lay follower of Jainism sermons by mendicants a senior supervisory rank among the male mendicant orders of Shvetambars female counterpart of pravartaka entry renunciation worship one who worships worthy of veneration

Glossary A xxi

pumlinga/purushalinga punya purusa purushaveda raga rajoharana

ramkirtan ratnayatra rishi-rina sadhana sadhutva sadhvi sadhya sahana sahansheelta sallekhana salwar kameez

samani samarpana samayika

samiti sammelan sampradaya

samsamyika samsara

male gender merit; actions that are beneficial or ethical and that cause minimal harm male male sexual orientation desire, passion or attachment a small whiskbroom used by Shvetambar mendicants to sweep the area before sitting or walking singing the glories of Ram the three jewels of Jainism debt to sages meditation the essence of piety, goodness and virtue female mendicant accomplishment of perfection to endure endurance ritual death by fasting Indian woman’s clothing comprising a long shirt and drawers reaching to the feet a higher category of Terapanthi novices, deemed to be partial mendicants to commit or to surrender a ritual in which one strives to attain equanimity or tranquillity of mind by the detachment of the senses from external objects self regulation; organisation conference, function Sthanakvasi mendicant lineage, comparable to the Gacch among Murtipujaks contemporary literally, wandering around the cycle of life and death; commonly also used to denote householder existence

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samudaya

samvegi samyak-charitra samyak-darshana samyak-gyan samyama samyama jyeshtha sangha

sanyasa sanyasi/sanyasini/sanyasin sanyojika sarvakalika satsang

satya saubhagya sautan savattisamane seva shaadi-barbaadi shasandevata shikha lochan shishyaa shobha shobha yatra

Co-arisings or those with common origins. Its contemporary usage implies an independent mendicant lineage within a Gacch. full fledged liberation seeking sadhus, especially Shvetambar correct conduct correct view of reality correct knowledge restraint seniority by initiation into mendicancy Literally a community, but is used in a variety of contexts. First, it refers to the Chaturvidhsangha. Second, it refers to the community of nuns or monks (sadhu or sadhvi sangha). Last, it also refers to the local Jain community. renunciation renouncer head of mumukshus (Terapanthi) applicable for all time an assembly of persons who listen to, talk about, and assimilate the highest truth vow of truthfulness fortunate, auspicious rival wife like a co-wife service ‘marriage leads to ruin’, it is a popular phrase guardian deity see locha disciple beauty, grace, lustre and brilliance; also appropriate a parade held prior to the initiation of a mendicant

Glossary A xxiii

shraddha shravak shravika shringara shuddha shudra

siddha siddhachakra

siddhi singhada sramana stavan sthanak sthavirakalpin

stridharma strilinga strinirvana striveda suhagin sukha

devotion a Jain layman a Jain laywoman adornment pure The fourth category in the fourfold varna order. Dharmasutras and Dharmashastras prescribe servitude as the sole legitimate duty of this category. one who has escaped the cycle of birth and death and achieved his/her goals literally, wheel of the enlightened ones; Jain yantra in the shape of a lotus, each petal representing respectively the five holy beings, the three jewels and right asceticism yogic power a unit of mendicants heterodox; non-Vedic mendicant, usually Buddhist or Jain devotional songs in praise of the Jina residences for mendicants of the Sthanakvasi community The mendicant mode of life which enjoins him/her to live in a community of monks/nuns. This is contrasted with the jinakalpin ideal. the duties of a woman female gender female salvation female sexual orientation/libido a married woman whose husband is alive Bliss. It is one of the three fundamental qualities of the soul, the other two being consciousness (chaitanya) and energy (virya).

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swabhava swadharma swadhyaya tapa

tapas tattva tattvika-gyan thada tijori tirtha

tirthankara tyaga ubtan

upadhyaya upakarana upasak/upasika upashraya

uppravarttini/ uppravartaka upvasa

urdhvaloka

innate disposition or nature individual spiritual aspirations self study extreme austerity and self-discipline that produces heat, which cuts away at the karmas accumulated by the soul see tapa that which exists or is real; the truths taught by the omniscient Tirthankaras knowledge about the existents a unit of mendicants locker In its first meaning, it implies the fourfold Jain community; in its second meaning, it refers to various sacred sites and pilgrimages. enlightened spiritual teachers of Jains renunciation; giving up a paste (composed of one or other kind of meal, turmeric, oil and perfume) rubbed on the body when bathing to clean and soften it preceptor, a teacher who is appointed to teach younger monks aids or accessories religious students in the Terapanth who undertake limited formal vows a dwelling hall located close to the vicinity of a temple where Jain mendicants stay either enroute on vihara or during the chaturmas a mendicant rank found among the Sthanakvasis a voluntary abstinence from particular or all kinds of food and water for specific lengths of days or period the celestial world; abode of the heavenly beings

Glossary A xxv

vachan shuddhi vaid vairagi vairagin vairagya vandaka vandana vandana vyavahara vandaniya vani vaskepa

vastra vastra parivartan vatavarana veda vedaniya vesh vesh-dhari vidya/vidyadevi

vihara virya vrata

vyavasthita

purity of speech traditional medicinal practitioner a man in whom the feelings of vairagya have been aroused a woman in whom the feelings of vairagya have been aroused aversion leading to renunciation one who venerates veneration the manner in which the veneration is performed worthy of veneration voice possessing special divine endowments a mixture of camphor powder, saffron and sandalwood that is used by Shvetambar mendicants for a variety of ritual purposes such as blessing the laity, etc. clothes change of clothes atmosphere sexual orientation karma responsible for mundane experience of pain and pleasure clothes/garb one who is clothed Tantric goddesses who are said to reside in the madhyaloka. They number 16 according to both Jain traditions. travel vigour, strength, power A vow to restrain from certain activities. Both mendicants and laypeople undertake vratas; the vratas for the former are more severe while those for the laity, relaxed and often optional. to organise and arrange

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yajna

yakshi/yaksha Yama yati

yojika yuvacharya

a ritual of worship, prayer, praise; offering, oblation, sacrifice derived from the practice of Vedic time demigods who reside in the lower realm lord of death A kind of Shvetambar quasi-mendicant whose vows of initiation are far less stringent than a full mendicant. They were extremely influential during the medieval period when the number of yatis exceeded that of full monks, but only a few are to be found in contemporary times. head of a unit of mumukshus heir designate of the Terapanth mendicant order

1 Introduction It is a sultry Delhi afternoon. Scattered crowds of women are squatting

on the floor, chatting among themselves, their heavy silks and gold adding to the heat of the basement hall. Many elderly women are wearing muhpattis (mouth shields). A group of young and middle-aged women is singing. Some are carrying little books and diaries, which they consult from time to time for lyrics; there are others on a dholak. These are songs of auspiciousness and bliss, recalling the names of each of the 24 Tirthankaras:1 Omkar mangalam, Adinatha mangalam, Ajitnatha mangalam… Or the vigorously sung: Nokar japne se saare sukha milte hain ! Jaap japo, japte raho. Bandhan katate hain [Chanting the Namaskar Mantra2 grants one bliss/ Chant it, keep chanting; it corrodes your bondage.]

But for the handful of men in the hall who are supervising the arrangements, it is a wholly female audience. The white marble stage starts to be decorated. A length of yellow cloth is hung to provide the backdrop; reed mats and white sheets are spread on the platform. Another stage is being fashioned out of large wooden cots. Two sadhvis enter, their plain white skirts flapping as they walk, white whiskbrooms 1

Tirthankaras or Jinas are ‘spiritual victors’ and the ‘builders of ford across the ocean of suffering’. They are human beings who have attained kevalgyan (infinite knowledge) and final liberation, and have preached the doctrine of moksha (salvation). Though not founders of the religion — rather teachers of a path of liberation — Jinas are often regarded as foundational figures of Jainism. Both Digambars and Shvetambars recognise 24 tirthankaras, beginning from Rishabha to Mahavira. See P. S. Jaini, The Jaina Path of Purifcation, Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1979, p. 2. 2 The fivefold salutation to the holy beings (Jinas, siddhas (the perfected beings), mendicant leaders, mendicant preceptors and mendicants) is considered the most fundamental devotional activity of the Jains. Ibid., pp. 162–63.

2 A Escaping the World

resting on their shoulders. A sudden surge of excitement is palpable: the dholak beats become more rampant, the singing suddenly picks up, the women’s listless banter tapers off. The two sadhvis survey the preparations, give a few instructions and depart. There is renewed excitement when a bright red throne-like chair is carried into the hall. This is the seat for the vairagin.3 Eighteen-year-old Preeti Jain has declared her intention to renounce the samsara (world) and embrace a lifetime of austerities incumbent upon Jain mendicants. She is to take diksha (initiation) as a Jain sadhvi, and this is her mehendi (henna) ceremony. Finally the two stages are set and the hall packed to near capacity. A contingent of munis and sadhvis troops in. A wave of cheer rises from the crowd — the hall now resonates with the singing. Order is restored with some difficulty as the ascetics take their respective places — the sadhvis on the main stage and the munis on the wooden stage on the left. Then arrives the principal protagonist of the afternoon, the vairagin herself. She is dressed in bridal finery, a deep red lehenga, laden with jewellery, her arms and feet displaying tattooed henna designs. But unlike a demure bride, Preeti is smiling and acknowledging the women who are rushing forth to see her. She is flanked by two women, one carrying a large silver tray bearing a mammoth garland made out of currency notes, the other carrying a pot full of mehendi. Those on the dholak begin to beat it frantically. There are loud cries of vairagin Preeti Jain ki jai ho [salutations to the renunciant Preeti Jain]. She walks up to the stage where munis are seated and bows to them, and then proceeds to where the sadhvis are seated and venerates them similarly. It is announced that the sadhvis would like the vairagin’s chair shifted from the corner to the centre of the stage. There is much cheering as the young girl takes her seat finally. A senior monk announces that the ceremony must begin as the propitious hour is about to end soon.4 ∗∗∗ Liberation or escape from the incessant cycle of birth, death and rebirth is laid out as the highest goal in many religions and the path suggested 3 One who has developed a disinterest towards the world (vairagi is the male counterpart). 4 26 April 2008, Atma Vallabh Society, Sector 13, Rohini, New Delhi.

Introduction A 3

to achieve this state of moksha is through a life of rigorous asceticism. This ideally, though not universally, implies the renunciation of wealth, luxury and sexual relations — characteristics associated with householders. However, moksha as an ideal is available differentially to men and women. This book seeks to explore the differential entitlements of salvation for women, even in a religion — Jainism — that institutionally recognises the right of women to seek liberation. The status of women and its implications for their access to spiritual life has been a largely neglected area in the study of Indian society and culture. While Jainism might be a peripheral religious tradition with a miniscule following, the larger significance of this study lies in it providing clues to understanding the sexism that lies at the core of the dominant ideologies that serve to disempower women in both religious and secular domains of life.5 This work will hopefully advance our understanding of the role that social construction of gender plays in Indian social and religious life.

Te Issues Jainism is especially relevant to the study of renunciation in India because the central defining ideals of this religion are the twin principles of non-attachment and non-violence. It comprises a single-minded pursuit of severe individual asceticism and avoidance of harm to even the tiniest of living organisms. What makes this particular religious tradition so central to an understanding of gender and asceticism is its almost unique insistence upon women as legitimate soteriological agents. The recognition of women’s ability to seek salvation through asceticism is reflected in the fourfold division of society — the Chaturvidhasangha — envisaged in Jainism. Classes of female ascetics and pious female lay followers — sadhvis and shravikas respectively — are not only distinctly identified, but are placed on an equal footing with the two male classes: sadhus (or munis) and shravaks, that is, male ascetics and pious male householders. Even more startling is the visible numerical predominance of the female ascetics over the male ascetics, both in contemporary and historical 5 See Robert P. Goldman, ‘Foreword’ to P. S. Jaini, Gender and Salvation: Jaina Debates on the Spiritual Liberation of Women, Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers, 1992, p. xxi.

4 A Escaping the World

times. A census of the Jain mendicant population in late 1990s gave the following figures: Total Jain mendicants: 11,518 Male mendicants: 2572 Female mendicants: 89466

These figures clearly point to the preponderance of female ascetics in the Jain mendicant orders, with the number of sadhvis surpassing that of sadhus by over three times. Sources such as the Kalpa Sutra are clear that on Mahavira’s death, the tirtha 7 that he had founded contained a body of female ascetics two and half times as large as the number of male ascetics and a lay community containing twice as many laywomen as laymen. Not only this, the number of women who are described as achieving moksha also outstrips the number of men. Further, it is also a woman, Marudevi, who bears the distinction of being the first person in the current age to have attained liberation. However, the gender question in Jainism is far from resolved. Indeed, women’s capacity for salvation — and for undertaking severe austerities, on which salvation is premised — has been at the centre of a fierce, and as yet irreconcilable, debate between its sectarian divisions, namely Digambars (the sky clad) and Shvetambars (the white clad). Though there exists an amazing doctrinal consensus between the two sects on the nature of the soul; the process of karmic bondage; the mechanism to extricate the soul from the web of karma; and the belief in reliance on one’s own self alone, unaided by a higher god or power, to attain salvation8 — Digambars and Shvetambars diverge 6

See detailed table in Chapter IV. The fourfold community of monks, nuns, laywomen and laymen. The word tirtha literally means ‘river ford’, a shallow part of the river where it can be easily crossed. In its second sense, tirtha (crossings) also came to denote sacred places and pilgrimage sites. Like the river ford, tirtha in the second sense thus came to be associated with such inspirational sites/places where one could cross over from worldly engagement to the side of moksha. The tirtha is thus a point of mediation between the two realms: the worldly and the otherworldly/transcendent. 8 The soul, characterised by the three qualities of consciousness (chaitanya), bliss (sukha) and energy (virya), is a bound and ever changing entity. Karma, for Jains, implies not merely action, but invisible traces of action which taint the soul just as dust obscures the reflection of a mirror. From this undifferentiated mass of karmic matter arise various types of karmas, classifiable by functions. But this karmic dust would slither away from a soul were it not 7

Introduction A 5

on three issues. All of these impinge on the subject at hand, that is, asceticism among Jain women, sometimes directly, and at other times obliquely. The first contentious issue is that of the significance of nudity in spiritual life. Nudity is central to the Digambar conception of the correct mendicant path, and is a true test of one’s ability to renounce all possessions and feelings of shame and sexuality. For this reason, they deny that Shvetambar monks are true monks! On their part, Shvetambars do not attach any great significance to nudity. They recognise two paths of mendicancy — the jinakalpin, the mendicant who lives alone and naked, modelled along the lines of the Jina (or tirthankara), those human teachers who have attained omniscience and are said to have preached the path of salvation; and the sthavirakalpin who lives clothed and in community with other mendicants. But since liberation is not possible in this age and place, jinakalpin is no longer considered to be appropriate, and all mendicants should replicate the conduct of the elders.9 From this contention follows the second point of sectarian disputation. The implications of the requirement of nudity for a full ascetic life are quite apparent for female spiritual aspirants: the impossibility of ‘sky clad’ nuns. It allows Digambars to reject the contention that women are capable of achieving salvation. On account of women’s moistened by passions (kashayas) such as desire (raga) and hatred (dvesha). The scale to which these passions taint the actions will eventually determine the duration and result of the karmas. But once the effect of the karma has been brought about, the matter falls off, rather in the manner of a ripe fruit plopping off a tree, back into the pool of undifferentiated matter. The manner in which karmic matter works may be thus represented: Undifferentiated matter — association with a moistened soul — result — undifferentiated state of matter, and so on and so forth such that ‘the soul has successively taken in and cast off every particle of [karmic] matter in the universe.’ Sullied by karmic matter, the soul is condemned to embodiment in any of the countless forms: plants, animals, microbes, as inhabitants of dark and terrible hells or as one or another deity residing in the beautiful heavens. Whatever the class or form, the living being is condemned to an endless cycle of birth and death — samsara. The impurities of the soul can be cleansed through tapas — the heat generated through practices of self-mortification and asceticism. See James Laidlaw, Riches and Renunciation: Religion, Economy and Society among the Jains, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995, p. 2 and Jaini, The Jaina Path of Purifcation, p. 131. 9 R. K. Jain, The Universe as Audience: Metaphor and Community among the Jains of North India, Shimla: Indian Institute of Advances Studies, 1999, p. 39. See also Michael Carrithers, ‘Jainism and Buddhism as Enduring Historical Streams’, Journal of Anthropological Society of Oxford, vol. 21, no. 2, 1999, p. 146. See Chapter IV for more details.

6 A Escaping the World

bodies, which are seen as sites of relentless violence by Digambars, the likelihood of female salvation is dismissed. The Shvetambars on their part, already having discounted the centrality of nudity in spiritual life, hold an opposite view. Indeed they hold that the 19th tirthankara was a woman by the name of Malli Devi (which the Digambars of course refute vehemently, arguing that said tirthankara was Mallinath, definitely male). The third difference focuses on the nature of the omniscient Jina. For Digambars, the omniscience of the Jina rules out any worldly engagements or bodily functions such as intake of food, the need to sleep, etc., whereas Shvetambars do not see any contradiction between his omniscience (kevalgyan) and ordinary human activities. According to the Shvetambar belief, encapsulated in Umasvati’s Tattvarthadhigamasutra, the omniscient one (kevalin) only suffers physical vexation and not psychological distress since the latter is caused by vedaniya karmas, which he has already eliminated.10 Though at first instance the lack of agreement over the nature of omniscient Jina does not seem to impinge upon the question of women’s salvation, it does become crucial in the sectarian debate about the possibility of a female Jina: is it possible to even conceive of an omniscient being who menstruates? This is a protracted debate which will be addressed more fully subsequently, suffice it to say here that Shvetambars believe that karmic rule does not per se obstruct women from attaining moksha, while even Digambars accede that a woman may attain the goal in subsequent rebirth as a male, which may result from her extreme asceticism in her female birth. Asceticism in this life then holds out the promise of liberation from samsara, even if in a subsequent birth. Therefore, Digambar female ascetics are not considered full mendicants (but then neither are Shvetambar monks); they are working not for salvation directly but accumulating merits to enable them to be born in the manushya gati (male destiny). For it is by being born in the manushya gati alone that a soul can hope to achieve liberation, according to the Digambar belief. 10 See Paul Dundas, ‘Food and Freedom: The Jain Sectarian Debate on the Nature of Kevalin’, in N. K. Singhi (ed.), Ideal, Ideology and Practice: Studies in Jainism, Jaipur: Printwell Publishers, 1987, pp. 64–114. Vedaniya karmas are feeling-inducing karmas. For a full Jain typology of karmas, divided into destructive and non-destructive, see Jaini, The Jaina Path of Purifcation, pp. 131–32.

Introduction A 7

The presence, indeed the overwhelming presence, of female renouncers among Jains presents an interesting challenge to sociological theories of renunciation, which have thus far focused either on the Brahmanical view of renunciation or approached it via the dissent movements of Bhakti, which implied at least a degree of subversion of social norms. Here is a religious tradition then, which identifies women as rightful candidates for ascetic initiation — and indeed, we find its ascetic orders swamped by women.

Te Gender Question in Jainism This debate on woman’s eligibility and capacity for salvation has been compiled in Jaini’s Gender and Salvation.11 Jaini’s work, comprehensive as it is, and to which we shall return often, is primarily a textual analysis of those debates and it is beyond the scope of his work to understand the ways in which dominant sexual ideologies are played out in the lives of contemporary sadhvis. The credit for presenting the ‘insider view’ of Jain nuns must go to Shanta. No work on Jain female mendicants can proceed without acknowledging its debt to Shanta’s magisterial work, The Unknown Pilgrims.12 As a bhava sadhvi practicing the daily rites of the ascetics she studies, she successfully brings to light the daily life and practices of the nuns. As a study of social organisations and spiritual worldview of the Jain nuns, Shanta’s work is invaluable, but her treatment of the reasons that lead women to renounce is only peripheral. Similarly, Reynell and Balbir help us in gaining a better understanding of how Jainism constructs gender roles but they are concerned mostly with the religious roles of laywomen and how these help to perpetuate the Jain religious community, attaching little importance to investigating the numerical preponderance of nuns over monks.13 Kelting’s study of women’s stavans (religious songs in praise of the Jina) offers a helpful understanding of the relationship between gender and 11

Jaini, Gender and Salvation. N. Shanta, The Unknown Pilgrims: The Voice of the Sadhvis. The History, Spirituality and the Life of the Jaina Women Ascetics, Delhi: Sri Satguru Publications, 1997. 13 Josephine Reynell, ‘Women and the Reproduction of the Jain Community’ in Michael Carrithers and C. Humphrey (eds), The Assembly of Listeners: Jains in Society, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991, pp. 41–65 and Nalini Balbir, ‘Women in Jainism’ in Arvind Sharma (ed.), Religion and Women, Albany: State University of New York Press, 1987, pp. 121–38. 12

8 A Escaping the World

religion and recasts the relation between anthropologists and their subjects.14 She argues that Jain laywomen’s theologies are developed in practice and performance of stavan singing. Their expertise and control over the stavan repertoire gave them not only a significant control over the production of Jain devotional theology but also grants them a certain authority within the dominant norms and expectations. A note of clarification is in order here with reference to the categories of ascetics and renouncers. Given that asceticism is the hallmark of Jainism, one finds even ordinary householders, especially women, undertaking extreme ascetic practices such as prolonged fasting and other dietary regulations on a regular basis. Nonetheless, it is renouncers, both male and female, who are the true embodiments of this ideal by virtue of their complete and lifelong devotion to this ideal alone. Therefore, when we employ the term ascetics, female ascetics in particular, reference is being made to those individuals or class of individuals who have abandoned the state of householder to take initiation as mendicants. In other words, we are concerned with ‘professional’ ascetics in this study. In studying Jain female mendicants, I am primarily interested in a question that seems to have been unanswered, even unasked in the existing literature on Jain women and religion: how does one explain the numerical preponderance of nuns over monks? What is it that drives women — increasingly young and unmarried women — to a life of itinerant mendicancy? We have already noted that women, both as householders and mendicants, are recognised as pillars of the fourfold Jain sangha. There is thus a perceptible positive valuation of female spiritual capacities and feminine qualities. Thus, the main questions that this research will ask are: Does Jainism offer an alternative imagery of womanhood that diverges significantly from the misogyny proffered by orthodox religious traditions? Is the feminine coded in culturally and spiritually positive ways to enable women to participate more fully and fruitfully in the spiritual and mendicant life of the Jain community? As we shall see, Jain literary traditions, even those of the more ‘liberal’ Shvetambars who do not preclude the possibility of women attaining moksha, are peppered with derogatory references to women and 14 M. Whitney Kelting, Singing to the Jinas: Jain Laywomen, Mandal Singing and Negotiations of Jain Devotion, New York: Oxford University Press, 2001.

Introduction A 9

their bodies. Women are denigrated as possessors of inferior physical, moral, ethical and intellectual powers, and hence considered unsuitable for extreme austerities that the path of salvation demands. Warnings about women’s fickle-mindedness and tempting ways issued to male spiritual candidates constitute routine fare in Jain literature. with crafty, stealthy step, sweet-spoken women; they know how to contrive that some monks will suffer a (moral) breakdown. They sit down closely at his side, they frequently put on holiday dress, they show him even the lower part of their body and the armpit when lifting their arm… He should not fix his eyes on those (women), nor should he consent to (women’s) inconsiderate acts, nor should he walk together with them: thus his soul is well-guarded.15

I shall begin therefore with a survey of the models of womanhood that Jainism constructs, and try to gauge how far these are amenable to the pursuits of female mendicants. I shall also examine how nuns respond to both the positive and negative portrayals of womanhood and female sexuality. In trying to decipher the attraction of mendicant orders for women, one might be led to think that women are escaping a life of poverty, unhappy domestic situations, or widowhood to the relative security of a monastic order, or that families unwilling to bear the ‘burden’ of a daughter in a culture that devalues the birth of a girl child might encourage her to take initiation. Indeed, these are commonsense views with which a researcher might approach the field. However, even a short stay with sadhvis is likely to allay or at least subdue a search for such reductionist reasons. The nuns uniformly and unanimously uphold their own agency, their choice, even in face of resistance by their family, to lead such a life. It became clear to me quite early in my study that the concepts of ‘agency’ and ‘choice’ would have to be central to any understanding of why, or how, women renounce a householder’s existence to embrace a mendicant one. Agency, though, is never exercised in a vacuum but is implicated in a complex matrix of institutional structures of patriarchy, family and kin groups. How do the notions of agency and choice explain the increasing incidence of younger and unmarried girls taking to a mendicant life? 15

Cited in Balbir, ‘Women in Jainism’, p. 130.

10 A Escaping the World

Does a path of life-long spiritualism open avenues that would not be available to them within domestic situations? How are these choices negotiated vis-à-vis familial structures and socially prescribed roles? The emphasis in this book is on the reasons sadhvis themselves ascribe to their attraction to a mendicant life. I interrogate the sufficiency of commonsensical perceptions about the prevalence of high numbers of female renouncers among Jains, namely, that women turn towards mendicancy because they have been widowed; hail from poor families who are unable to support their daughters; parents push their daughters to become sadhvis in order to escape paying large dowries; or the parents have been unsuccessful in getting her married. All of these reasons stress dukha (sorrow) as a motivating factor for girls turning to a sadhvi life. These assumptions have then been tested against the data generated through interviews with sadhvis: their social and familial backgrounds and their life stories. This work asks if the sadhvis attach a positive value to the undertaking of a lifetime of samyama (restraint) and correlate it to their conceptions of conjugality and householdership. Is it possible to decipher any continuity in the lives of female renunciants and women in the samsara? In view of earlier studies which point at differing conclusions — with some arguing for a clear break between the two categories,16 and others advocating the primacy of a woman’s identity and life circumstances over the differences between women householders and mendicants17 — this study examines the linkages between Jain female renouncers and householders, and indeed the interactions between the Jain lay community and mendicants generally. Deriving from it, I examine if the norms that govern the samsara intervene in the sangha? These sets of questions cluster around the theme of power and authority. To think that by renouncing the samsara a woman may escape from patriarchy that inheres in marriage and family would be false. For not only are the monastic orders internally hierarchically organised, the relation between the male and female ascetics also seems to simulate the gendered relations of super-ordination and subordination in a domestic 16 Lynn Teskey Denton, ‘Varieties of Hindu Female Asceticism’ in Julia Leslie (ed.), Roles and Rituals for Hindu Women, New Jersey: Associated Press, 1991, pp. 211–31. 17 Meena Khandelwal, ‘Ungendered Atma: Masculine Virility and Feminine Compassion — Ambiguities in Renunciate Discourses on Gender’, Contributions to Indian Sociology, vol. 31, no. 1, 1997, pp. 79–107.

Introduction A 11

setting. The nuns are expected to show deference to the monks and even senior nuns must remain submissive to the most junior monk’s authority. The male ascetic is governed by two persons: the teacher and the preceptor, while the female ascetic is governed by three: the female superior (pravarttini), the preceptor and the teacher. The nuns can also never attain the apex status of acharya..18 The last set of questions that are raised here focus on sadhvis’ response to the tension between the commitment of spiritual equivalence, an everyday exercise of authority and the practices of discrimination. First, is this tension recognised at all? And if it is, what is it that nuns do to challenge the practices that relegate them to inferior positions? And then, how does the structure of authority respond and react to these challenges? Given these deep-seated patriarchal biases, why do women continue to participate in such high numbers in the community’s mendicant life? A case of ‘false consciousness’ or ‘misrecognition of one’s interests’?19 Before one reaches this conclusion, one must keep in mind the great degree of authority women ascetics exercise in the community’s life. In many if not most places, nuns lead prayers, give sermons and take general charge of the spiritual needs of the laity. Many senior nuns play an important role in the community’s life, such as resolving factional conflicts, organising functions, even advising the laity on business deals (usually in the fashion of reading the horoscope and predicting whether a certain investment would bear returns, etc.) Further, many sadhvis have called into question practices that discriminate against them; many have made this a central debate and have written and spoken against it widely. Is there a model of resistance here then?

Te Field Jains constitute a tiny minority and are to be found in small numbers throughout the country. They are mainly concentrated in three regions: The Deccan in the South; a wide band stretching across north-western 18 Balbir, ‘Women in Jainism’, p. 12. See also John E. Cort, ‘The Shvetambar Murtipujak Jain Mendicant’, Man (New Series), vol. 26, no. 4, 1991, pp. 656–57, for a typical linear sequence of authority among the Tapa Gacch Shvetambar Murtipujak sect. See the following chapter for details. 19 Michele Barrett, ‘Ideology and the Cultural Production of Gender’, in Women’s Oppression Today, London: NLB, 1980, p. 110.

12 A Escaping the World

India straddling the states of Gujarat and Rajasthan; and the areas of Punjab, Haryana and Madhya Pradesh. The last area encompasses Delhi, the eastern parts of Rajasthan and neighbouring parts of Madhya Pradesh. Within this geography, the nuns travel from place to place — villages and towns — throughout the year in order to honour the vow of aparigraha (non-attachment). They do so in groups under the leadership of the senior-most nun, usually under the directions of the monastic superior in consultation with the lay community. It is important to bear in mind here that Jainism is not a monolithic structure but rather riddled with internal sectarian divisions that have continually arisen over the centuries as a result of geographical separation, movements for reform, charismatic leaders who have broken away from existing groups, and so on. We have already mentioned the prime schism, i.e., between Digambars and Shvetambars. The adherents of the first division among the Shvetambars are known variously as Mandirmargi or Murtipujaks owing to the practice of building elaborate temples where they worship images of Jina. The basic subdivision of the Murtipujaks is the Gachh, which includes both the lineage of mendicants and the lay followers, usually caste groups who owe allegiance to these lineages. Cort identifies four Gacchs: Khartar Gacch, Tapa Gacch, Anchal Gacch and Parshvachandra Gacch (also called Paichang Gacch).20 Both Khartar and Tapa Gacch were born out of controversies and conflicts over the correct monastic practices. Further subdivisions among the Shvetambars are Sthanakvasis (non-idolatrous, whose mendicants reside in specially built halls called sthanaks) and Terapanthis (another non-idol worshipping dissident group).21 While Murtipujaks remain divided into smaller operational groupings that lack a central authority, Terapanth has, since its beginning, been organised along highly centralised lines under the authority of a single acharya and his office. Following 20 I did not encounter any mendicants/lay followers of Anchal and Paichang during the course of my fieldwork. 21 For internal subdivisions, see Cort, ‘The Shvetambar Murtipujak Jain Mendicant’, pp. 656–57; Paul Dundas, The Jains, London and New York: Routledge, 1992, pp. 113–14, pp. 182–83 and p. 217; Also, Laidlaw, Riches and Renunciation, pp. 50–51 and Lawrence A. Babb, ‘Monks and Miracles: Religious Symbols and Images of Origin among Osval Jains’, The Journal of Asian Studies, vol. 52, no. 1, 1993, pp. 3–12.

Introduction A 13

this model, efforts were made in the last century to consolidate the various Sthanakvasi sampradayas into a single Shraman Sangh under the leadership of one acharya.22 While successful to a degree, the Jain tendency to throw up ever-new groupings and sub-groupings could not be entirely suppressed. At least two prominent and high profile groups, Arhat Sangh and Veeraytan, have arisen from the Sthanakvasi sect in the past 25 years. Today, Shraman Sangh has ended up as only one of the Sthanakvasi sampradayas, albeit the largest one.23 The last two groups have introduced considerable reforms in their mendicant practices that have enabled them to raise their sects’ profile internationally. Murtipujaks in contrast have displayed more resistance in initiating such reforms. Fieldwork for this work was concentrated mostly in the cities of Jaipur, Delhi and neighbouring cities of Faridabad and Gurgaon. These are marked by a fairly large and well-established Jain community of both sects: Digambars and Shvetambars. A single trip was made to Agra to witness a diksha ceremony of three girls in Veeraytan sect of the Sthanakvasi order. These cities are both a site of sectarian competitiveness and of cooperation in terms of ostentatious donations, support to various temple complexes, schools, voluntary associations and upashrayas (residences built specifically for mendicants), where the ascetics reside and give sermons, besides also overseeing many social–religious functions of the community. This naturally attracts a large number of ascetics throughout the year but especially during the chaturmas, the four months of rain-retreat season between July and October, when the ascetics give up their itinerary to dwell in one place. This research draws mainly upon the primary data generated by fieldwork among Jain nuns. The method of gathering information was through interviews with nuns as well as laity, especially the women who regularly visit upashrayas and temples where nuns might be stationed for a particular time. A total of 65 nuns were interviewed. Care was 22

Shraman Sangh was founded in 1952 in Sadari, Rajasthan by an assembly of 32 acharyas. The first acharya was Atmaram and the current acharya is Dr Shiv Muni. 23 The Shraman Sangh witnessed a split in 2001, followed by a reunion in 2007. Information provided by Sthanakvasi Shraman Sangh sadhvis at Mahila Sthanak, Jain Vir Nagar Colony, Delhi.

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taken to ensure a representative sample in order that all sects were represented. Thus, representation according to sects stands as: Digambars: 5 Shvetambars: 60 (total) Tapa Gacch: 15 Khartar Gacch: 15 Sthanakvasi: 2224 Terapanthi: 8

The sample was fairly heedful of incorporating respondents from across age groups — from an 8-year-old ascetic aspirant to sadhvis well in their 60s — so that the entire range from established leaders to new recruits was represented. Though interviews were conducted at an individual level, the responses so generated gestured to the strong group identity of nuns. It was near impossible to view the nuns’ responses as mere ‘individual’ views and ideas, for they were shaped in large measure by their rootedness in a sectarian tradition in the first place — Digambar, Sthanakvasi, Tapa Gacch and so on — and secondly, by their affiliation to a still smaller grouping, referred to variously as gana, thada, or singhada. The latter are the more everyday operational groupings, which travel and live together. The 65 respondents could therefore also be classified as belonging to 16 ‘families’.25 The longest time was spent with the thada of Sumangla ji (Tapa Gacch, Murtipujak Jain) at Atmanand Jain Sabha at Roop Nagar in north Delhi and the ‘extended’ parivar of Mahasati Kesar devi ji (Sthanakvasi Jain) at Jain Vir Nagar Sthanak, Delhi. While a total of 28 sadhvis have been initiated under Sumangla ji, during the course of fieldwork, only seven were in residence at the Atmanand Jain Sabha, the rest having been directed by Sumangla ji to spend their chaturmas in various districts of Rajasthan and Gujarat (see Figure 1.1). Similarly, of the 11 disciples under Kesar Devi ji’s tutelage, three were not present in Delhi during the months I was visiting the sthanak. Moreover, one of her senior disciples, Dr Manju sri, was in residence at another sthanak, also in Delhi, with her disciples (see Figure 1.2). 24 25

This includes Shraman Sangh, Veeraytan and Arhat Sangh sadhvis. See Chapter VI.

Introduction A 15 Figure 1.1: Parivar of Sumangla sri ji (Tapa Gacch, Murtipujak Jain)

Note: ∗ Twenty eight sadhvis have been initiated under her. This figure represents only those present at the Atmanand Jain Sabha in Delhi during the time of the fieldwork. It includes, as is evident, not only her own shishyas but also shishyas of her shishyas. Figure 1.2: Parivar of Mahasati Kesar devi ji (Sthanakvasi)

Note: a. These three sadhvis are Dr Vijay sri ‘Arya’, Vimal sri and Saroj sri. They were not present in Delhi during the months I conducted fieldwork at the sthanak. They were spending their chaturmas in another town along with their shishyaas. b. These sadhvis were not spending the chaturmas with their guru Dr Manju sri who was resident at another sthanak a short distance away from Jain Vir Nagar Colony sthanak where Kesar devi ji’s group had been living for the past many months owing to ill health of Kesar devi ji and Kaushalya sri ji which did not permit them to undertake vihara. These three sadhvis had been deputed by Dr Manju sri to stay with the senior nuns in order to nurse them.

A questionnaire to garner basic information, such as age at diksha, familial occupations at the time of diksha, educational attainments, educational status of families, etc., was evolved. This was to aid in mapping the pattern of recruitment and the social backgrounds of nuns. This was bolstered by longer open-ended interviews. The interview method was preferred over a structured interview schedule or

16 A Escaping the World

questionnaire because of the latitude it allows in engaging in more extended, in-depth and intimate conversations, essential for penetrating below the commonsense understanding of renunciation and women. More so because it involved questions pertaining to marriage, sexuality and body, issues that respondents would be less willing to divulge in an impersonal questionnaire than in a personalised, chatty discussion. The emphasis on nuns’ voices and views also warranted such an approach. This data was supplemented by religious texts, Jain narrative literature and biographies. Jacobi’s translations of early Jain texts such as Acharanga Sutra, Kalpa Sutra and Uttaradhyayana Sutra and Sutrakritanga Sutra,26 principally repositories of monastic codes of conduct were also examined. Jains have a huge corpus of katha literature — usually folk tales with a Jain moral towards the end — that has its origin in the oral renditions by monks.27 These stories also routinely surface in the exegesis of canonical texts, with the commentaries on the Avashyaka Sutra (Obligatory Duties, outlining the obligatory ritual actions enjoined on ascetics), particularly accreting tales around them. The purpose of such stories was mostly didactic, whilst still being entertaining. Nalini Balbir writes that these Avashyaka stories take us amongst a variety of people, through various customs and social statuses etc.,28 but it is my contention that it is also possible to glean an ideology of gender through these stories: the ideal laywoman, the ideal nun, the ideal monk, etc. Many of these stories will make an appearance here to illustrate moral and gender codes. The tradition of writing biographies is a thriving one among Jains. It is concerned with Jinas, rulers and exemplary mendicants. The biographies are called either deeds (charitas) or compositions (prabandhas). As a recent biography of a senior sadhvi notes at the very outset: Life stories of great men awaken the dormant energies of man and infuse self-confidence and strength […] Imagine if we were bereft of these life stories: how would a society set its goals? How would we assess our 26

See Bibliography for a list of these translations. R. C. C. Fynes, Hemacandra: The Lives of the Jain Elders, London: Oxford University Press, 1998, pp. xxii–xxiii. 28 Nalini Balbir, ‘A Note on the Avasyaka Tradition and Bibliography’ in Phyllis Granoff (ed.), The Clever Adulteress and Other Stories, A Treasury of Jain Literature, Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1993, pp. 70–72. 27

Introduction A 17 approximation or distance from that goal? Would we have the foresight and wisdom to march ahead on the path of spirituality?29

It then identifies two kinds of biographies, sarvakalika and samsamyika. The former are life stories of enduring heroes such as Mahavira while the latter detail the lives of present-day exemplars who inspire and guide us today by their conduct.30 The nuns themselves are prolific writers, recording their views on topics as diverse as Jain philosophy to the contemporary situation of Jain nuns. They are also writers of stories, poetry, and occasionally even novels. Many of these writings are intended as moral guides for the laity and reflect the attitudes of the nuns and the prevailing ideals of womanhood. Many nuns pay tribute to their preceptors by writing loving accounts of their lives; indeed the Terapanthi sub-sect has meticulously compiled biographical notes on each of their ascetics from its foundation until the present. Titled Shasana Samudra, these 21 volumes are a storehouse of information.31 Though occasionally hagiographical, they provide details of family backgrounds, occupation, caste, number of years spent in the sangha, status within the monastic hierarchy and any special distinction gained during the ascetic career. They also allow us to examine the shifts in variables such as educational accomplishments of nuns, or age at diksha over a period of time.

Reflections from the Field In approaching her respondents (Jain laywomen) as a ‘student’ and not as an ‘expert’, Kelting recasts the perennially vexed relationship between the anthropologist and the subjects. In my case, I did not even have to spell out this position. The nuns simply assumed me to be a non-expert, more so since I was a non-Jain. I was welcomed into the sthanaks and upashrayas and quickly taken under their wing to be ‘taught’. However, even in their warmth, the outsider status was underlined: as a nonJain, I was not expected to adhere to the Jain precept of concluding the evening meal before sunset; Sadhvi Prafullprabha would have a 29 Sadhvi Vijaysri ‘Arya’ (ed.), Mahasati Kesar Gaurav Granth, Delhi: Mahasati KGG Prakashan Samiti, 1996, p. xiii. Translated from Hindi by the author. 30 Ibid. 31 Muni Navratnamal ji (ed.), Shasana Samudra, bhaga 1–21, Delhi: Adarsh Sahitya Sangh Prakashan, 2001.

18 A Escaping the World

plate of food sent to me in my room so that I did not have to reschedule my meal times. Many sadhvis, especially the younger ones, were curious about my work; they wanted to know ‘why’ I had undertaken to study them, since I was not even a Jain. But once familiarity had set in, they would ask me all sorts of personal questions — was I married? Where did I live and with whom? Would I prefer an arranged marriage or a ‘love’ marriage? And also occasionally, if I would consider becoming a sadhvi. I was as much interviewed as an interviewee. I was rarely denied a chance to pose questions except in a couple of cases. Some sadhvis did not wish to be recorded on a tape recorder — ‘listen to what we are saying but don’t use your machine.’32 Sometimes, I suspect it was a case of nervousness — being recorded gave a sense of delivering a public speech, especially when the younger sadhvis would huddle around to listen to the conversation. But there was another problem. In the Introduction to The Fieldworker and the Field, the editors write that the fieldworker may become possessive of their field.33 The reverse may be equally true. The respondents/informants may become possessive of their ethnographer. An American student of anthropology had been researching notions of brahmacharya in Jain religious discourse and had visited and stayed with a sadhvi in Roop Nagar (in north Delhi) for a considerable length of time. Kusumprabha ji would spend hours conversing with the student ‘on tape’. She told me that the researcher would come to her and keep the recorder switched on for the whole day noting each and every utterance of the sadhvi. I could not understand her reluctance to record her responses with me, especially in light of the forthcoming cooperation from the rest of the group until she showed me the thesis ‘her’ researcher had sent her. She asked me to translate and read out passages in which she was mentioned. So clued in was she to the world of academia that she told me not to take too close a look at the bibliography or chapters since the thesis had not yet been published! 32

Sayamratna sri, interviewed by author, Atmanand Jain Sabha, Roop Nagar, Delhi See ‘Introduction’ in M. N. Srinivas, A.M. Shah and E.A. Ramaswamy (eds), The Fieldworker and the Field: Problems and Challenges in Sociological Investigation, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2002. 33

Introduction A 19

Another instance when the sadhvis refused to speak to me was at Moti Dungri, Jaipur which is presided over by the widely revered Khartar Gacch Sadhvi Chandanaprabha ji. Young sadhvis refused to talk to me because according to them, ‘only elders give interviews’. This was telling in itself as it reflected the organisational hierarchies within groups.

An Overview The following chapter, ‘Theorising Renunciation: Possibilities and Limitations’ examines the various sociological theories of renunciation, beginning with Louis Dumont’s widely read and respected thesis and the many critics who responded to it. The chapter also measures the suitability of these theoretical perspectives for studying Jain nuns. In Chapter III, ‘Nun and Temptresses: Representing Women in Jainism’, an inspection of the multiple models of womanhood is undertaken, focusing especially on the ambivalence in the discourses. Chapter IV, ‘Making of a Sadhvi: Claims and Counterclaims’ assesses the commonsense claims about the surfeit of female mendicants among Jains and squares this with the assertions of the nuns themselves. This is then placed in the context of social and life situations of the women who embrace asceticism in order to reach a gendered understanding of renunciation. In Chapter V, ‘Ethics of Care: Individual and the Institutional’, we look at how the institution of female renunciation is sustained through its interaction with the samsara, that which has been left behind, and how female ascetics enter new relationships of caring and protection. Chapter VI discusses how the themes and concerns discussed in the preceding chapters are reflected in the biographies of two nuns regarded as iconic by the Jain community. The concluding chapter attempts to bring together the disparate threads running through the book to understand how female ascetic subjectivities are created. A

2 Teorising Renunciation: Possibilities and Limitations To what extent do sociological theories of renunciation aid us in

understanding the surfeit of women in the Jain renouncer population? Over the years, beginning from Dumont’s influential essay, ‘ World Renunciation in Indian Religions’,1 the institution and practice of renunciation has received sustained scholarly attention. There have emerged critiques of Dumont’s excessive focus on textual and Brahmanical prescriptions at the cost of, argue his many critics, the view from the field and non-Brahmin groups. Rich ethnographies of communities of ascetics, and even some excellent works on female ascetics are now available. What can we learn from these ethnographies and theoretical perspectives to advance the analysis of Jain nuns? And the principle question of this book: how to explain the large numbers of Jain female ascetics? Here, we survey the field of sociological perspectives on renunciation and assess their utility to the aforementioned theme.

Surveying the Field: Dumont’s Individual ‘outside’ the World and ‘inside’ the World Dumont was the first to provide a theoretical thrust to the studies on renunciation and continues to cast a hegemonic spell over current scholarship. In investigating the presence of renouncers in relation to caste society, the Dumontian structuralist schema achieved a series of splits at various related levels: between individualism and holism; between renouncer and householder; between caste and sect; between purity and pollution. He premised caste — an all-encompassing system 1

Louis Dumont, ‘World Renunciation in Indian Religions’, Contributions to Indian Sociology, vol. 4, 1960, pp. 33–62.

Teorising Renunciation A 21

of ideas and values underlined by the ritual hierarchy of purity and pollution — to be the fundamental institution of Hindu society. The world of caste, according to Dumont, is a world of relations, which does not recognise individuals.2 Such a society, unlike the western one, Dumont believed, suppresses the emergence of individualism. However, ‘a stream of Hindu thought also admits the possibility of individual as being [emphasis added]. This is the world of renunciation and salvation premised upon the concepts of samsara and karma’.3 It is therefore only in the practice of renunciation — ‘a social state apart from society proper’4 — that the functional interdependence of caste may be contradicted and escaped from. ‘The renouncer leaves the world behind in order to consecrate himself to his own liberation. He submits himself to his chosen master, or he may even enter a monastic community, but essentially he depends upon no one but himself, he is alone.’5 The opposition between the world and the institution of renunciation is further elaborated by Dumont through recourse to ashrama theory and the Dharmashastric values. First, by limiting renunciation to the last stage of a man’s life, when all worldly obligations have been dispensed with, ashrama theory tempers the intervention of this institution in ‘its relation to worldly conditions’6 and displays a decided, though ‘subdued hostility to renunciation’.7 And second, while the Dharmashastras prescribe three necessary and legitimate worldly ends of life: dharma, artha and kama; the pursuit of the supreme end of moksha or negation of the mundane world, corrodes the first three.8 In renouncing the array of roles assigned to him by his social group, the renouncer acquires a distinctive ability to think as an individual that opposes him to the man-in-the-world and brings him closer to 2

Ibid., p. 42. Ibid., p. 43. 4 Ibid., p. 44. 5 Ibid., p. 47. 6 Ibid., p. 45. 7 Ibid., p. 45. 8 Dumont further adds that though the man-in-the-world may occasionally adopt notions that belong intrinsically to a renouncer, their conditions and thoughts remain different. Thus he is hinting that the religion of the laity is essentially different from that of the renouncers. However, there is no contradiction between the two as the renouncer does not deny the religion of the man-in-the-world. ‘[Being] an individual religion based upon choice [it] is added to the religion of the group.’ Ibid., p. 45. 3

22 A Escaping the World

the western thinker.9 The difference being that while the western thinker is an individual within the society, the Hindu renouncer is individuated outside the society, that is, he is man-outside-the-world. Thus an opposition is conceived, first between the holism of caste society and the individualism of the Occident, and then between the man-in-the-world, the householder and the individual-outsidethe-world, the renouncer. Dumont comes to locate the renouncer outside the world of social relations and regulations.

Dumont’s Critics Dumont’s thesis of renouncers’ ‘otherworldliness’ has been critiqued on the grounds that it is not so much a theory about renouncers as much as ‘an observation about Brahmanical theorising’10. According to Richard Burghart, the relationship between renouncer and householder is too complex to be subsumed under a simple opposition: it ranges from distinctions characterised by ‘negation, interiorisation, encompassment, sequence’.11 The range of these distinctions is made clear by Burghart’s comprehensive critique of Dumont’s conceptualisation of renunciation. By ignoring ethnographic data on renouncers, charges Burghart, Dumont’s views were based entirely on the Brahmin householder’s view of renunciation — but since the renouncer and householder inhabit different conceptual universes, Dumont’s theory was inevitably partial. The opposition between the householder and the renouncer is premised on the ashrama or the life-stages theory, which, ‘is a ritual model of the universe cast in terms of social categories’ and ‘not a sociological model cast in terms of universal categories’.12 Not only then is this model tainted by the biases of those who compiled and perpetuated it, it also excluded non-Brahmanical religions such as Jainism and Buddhism. On his part though, Dumont was convinced that Buddhist and Jain religions could be as well explained through the category of the renouncer he had delineated.13 In contrast to Dumont’s contention, Burghart proposes that the ascetic does not stand outside the social universe but rather the social 9

Ibid., p. 46. Richard Burghart, ‘Renunciation in the Religious Traditions of South Asia’, Man, vol. 18, no. 4, 1983, p. 642. 11 Ibid., p. 649. 12 Ibid., p. 637. 13 Dumont, ‘World Renunciation in Indian Religions’, p. 36. 10

Teorising Renunciation A 23

universe — ‘the entire caste and life stage organism of society’14 — comes to stand inside him. Burghart illustrates this relation of encompassment with reference to the Brahmanical doctrine of three debts: • The debt to the sages (rishi-rina), which is redeemed by the acquisition of knowledge in the Vedas. • The debt to the ancestors (pitra-rina), which is discharged by marriage and bearing sons. • The debt to the gods (deva-rina), which is redeemed by maintaining the sacrificial fire within the home.15 The Brahmanical codes of conduct require the acolyte to dispense with his three debts before embarking on the path of renunciation. However, even in his renunciant life, he does not stop repaying these debts; only, he ‘interiorises’ the means by which this is achieved. One need only quote Burghart’s lucid prose here: Instead of sending his semen downward to beget sons who will secure his safe passage and immortality of their parents in the ancestral world, the ascetic stores up his seeds, controls his senses, and practices austerities in order to burn away the sins of many lifetimes and thereby attain immortality. Instead of studying the Vedas, the ascetic by virtue of his reunion with Brahma is said to become a living manifestation of the Vedas. Instead of offering sacrifices to the gods, the ascetic gives away his property as a sacrificial fee and reposits the sacrificial fire within himself […] so that his entire body becomes a sacrifice to the soul. […] By virtue of his renunciation […] the entire social universe in its unmanifested and pre-manifested state stands inside him. The ascetic is Brahma.16

As an embodiment of the social world, the performer of the interior sacrifices, the ascetic, approximates the Brahma and thus stands in a position superior to the ‘twice-born’ householder, performer of the exterior sacrifices. The relation between the alms-giving householder and the alms-receiving ascetic is also unlike the typical supporter– supported relationship that celebrates the superiority of the one who supports or donates. Here the recipient, by virtue of receiving only useless food and clothing from the householder, divests himself of any 14

Burghart, ‘Renunciation in the Religious Traditions of South Asia’, p. 638. Ibid., pp. 638–39. 16 Ibid., p. 639. 15

24 A Escaping the World

material attachments and imbues the gift with a sacred purpose, and thus establishes his pre-eminence.17 If in place of according primacy to the Brahmin’s view as Dumont does, one were to supplant the ascetic’s view as Burghart does, a whole new field of engagement and discourse begins to emerge: this is the arena of inter-sectarian relationships, engagements and rivalries. For Burghart, the relationship between the ascetics hailing from different sects is more important than that between the householder and the ascetic; it is indeed even the most important relationship. Buddha’s first audience upon attaining enlightenment, Burghart is quick to remind us, did not comprise householders but a group of rival ascetics. The foundation and institutionalisation of militant orders and victory processions among ascetics in the 17th and 18th centuries can be traced to inter-sectarian rivalries between Muslim Fakirs, Shaivite Sanyasis and Vaishnavite Bairagis. Indeed these inter-sectarian rivalries are of central significance in a sect’s formation, perpetuation and self-identity.18 Peter van der Veer’s study of the Ramanandi monastic order in Ayodhya has foregrounded monks as primarily political actors, who articulate, underplay, or emphasise their identities.19 Dismissing the claim that religious experiences can be comprehended by simply resorting to the sacred tenets of Hinduism, van der Veer advocates the study of behaviour over values. What van der Veer offers is an interpretative description of the way religious specialists — both monks and priests — live, and the institutions that bind them together. Here, political processes are not relegated to the domain of epiphenomena but are shown to be crucial determinants, in that interplay and competition between monks and priests define the religious experience itself. Thus, religious experience is not a static system of meaning forever frozen in the sacred texts scripted by the Brahmins, but a live and evolving system marked by competition, hierarchy and usurpation, not unlike the world of caste relations. Moreover, ascetics may uphold, rather than transcend, the ideology of caste. Burghart notes that many ascetic sects differentially grade the spiritual value and attainment of their various internal branches: 17

Ibid., p. 640. Ibid., pp. 641–42. 19 Peter van der Veer, Gods on Earth: the Management of Religious Experience and Identity in a North Indian Pilgrimage Centre, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1989. 18

Teorising Renunciation A 25

The Nimbarkis and Ramanujis distinguish between members with twice-born bodies and those with once-born bodies; the Dasnami Sanyasis are divided into Paramhansa and Dandi branches with the former claiming superiority and a higher level of knowledge. The Ramanandis of Janakpur whom Burghart studies are also divided between Tyagis and Mahatyagis with distinct disciplines of devotion and renunciation.20 Dumont’s theory, standing as it does on the life-stage model, is likely to collapse if the ascetic refuses to acknowledge the division between the householder/houseless. Ethnographic data would suggest that there have arisen many sectarian traditions whose leaders have effectively rendered useless the dichotomy of renouncer/householder and caste/casteless (or sect). While all sects hold out a promise of liberation from the transient world, they differ in their conception of it and the correct or the true path to transcend this transient world. So divergent are the prescribed modes of severing links with the samsara that what may classify as legitimate renunciatory practice from the point of one sect may be disqualified from the point of view of another as totally worthless. Burghart cites examples of the Ramanandis and Kabirpanthis to illustrate this: Ramanandis insist that a desire-less state — a necessary prerequisite for liberation — may be attained only by undertaking a vow of celibacy and ejecting from family life; the Kabirpanthis, on the other hand, distinguishing between a vow of celibacy and a vow of sexual abstinence, believe in the adequacy of ‘celibacy in marriage’ and feel no need to renounce their families in order to ‘attain the unconditioned state of eternity’.21 For this, the Ramanandis do not regard the Kabirpanthis as true ascetics while the Kabirpanthis, unconcerned with the houseless/householder distinction, adopt a wholly neutral attitude towards the Ramanandis. It might be added here of course that Dumont’s reliance on the life-stage model would not allow for the recognition of Kabirpanthis as true ascetics on account of their low caste status, since the life-stage model is premised on the performance of sacrifices, allowed only to the twice-born householders.22 20

Burghart, ‘Renunciation in the Religious Traditions of South Asia’, pp. 645–50. Ibid., p. 643. 22 Ibid., pp. 643–44. 21

26 A Escaping the World

Saurabh Dube’s study of the Satnamis of Chhattisgarh ‘explores the symbolic construction of a subordinate religious initiative that carved for itself a distinctive position within the ritual hierarchies’ of the caste order in its attempt to reconstitute the ascribed status of Chamars by incorporating them as Satnamis.23 The Satnami Guru, head of the organisational hierarchy, combined the twin characteristics of truth and purity and the attributes of the Raja aadmi (kingly person), the latter derived from the schemes of ritually fashioned kingship within the caste system. The Guru, ‘ever the householder’ and the ‘living symbol of worship’ among the Satnamis, provided a most interesting counterpoint to Dumontian notion of asceticism24. Romila Thapar, in discussing the ashrama theory, as it was formulated and developed in the Brahmanical and Buddhist traditions, argues that even though the opposition between attachment and non-attachment, householder and renouncer, may be counter-posed as stark opposites, it is still useful to take into account the interplay between the two categories.25 This interplay is not elided over even in the Buddhist tradition where the dialectic is made yet more implicit by reducing the ashrama stages to two: the gahapati and the bhikkhu. The householder is ever cognizant of his obligations towards the renouncer as is indeed the renouncer of his own rootedness in the world ‘when he intervenes in social action, as many do on occasion by demonstrating their powers…’26 The partial nature of Dumont’s contention that the ashrama theory displays a marked hostility to renunciation by limiting sanyasa to the last stage is made explicit by Thapar who notes that grihastha was not stipulated as necessary among Jain and Buddhist traditions. The Brahmanical insistence on grihastha as a prerequisite for true renunciation as laid down by Manu may have been an attempt to neutralise the entry into monkhood at a very young age, which was being encouraged by Jains and Buddhists. The circumvention of grihastha imperilled the performance of the yajna and threatened the curtailment of dana that accrued from it to the Brahmins.27 23 Saurabh Dube, Untouchable Pasts: Religion, Identity, and Power among a Central Indian Community, 1780–1950, New Delhi: Vistaar Publications, 2001, p. 8. 24 Ibid., p. 9. 25 Romila Thapar, ‘The Householder and the Renouncer in the Brahmanical and Buddhist Traditions’, in T. N. Madan (ed.) Way of Life: King, Householder, Renouncer: Essays in Honour of Louis Dumont, Jaipur: Vikas Publishing House, 1982, p. 275. 26 Ibid. 27 Ibid., pp. 280–81.

Teorising Renunciation A 27

Gender and Renunciation The debate about the man-in-the-world and individual-outside-theworld, one will notice, is primarily, even solely about men. Renunciation is either placed outside the map of gender distinctions and characterised as ungendered, or it is willy-nilly identified with masculinity (recall Burghart’s statement about how the ascetic pays off his debts to his ancestors by storing his seed). Though there has been a proliferation of interest on the subject of women and religiosity in South Asia,28 most often, women’s religious lives have been interrogated and described in their status as householders; only recently have studies focused on the asceticism of women who have shunned householdership.29 The most appropriate and codified religious roles for women lie in the domain of the household. The primary moral and religious duty of a married woman is pativratadharma: those actions that are directed towards the welfare of her husband and all that is related to him — his home, kin group, and the performance of his duties towards his ancestors and deities. Indeed, it is she who by begetting him sons, enables him to pay off his debts to ancestors and attain liberation. The two primary vehicles towards the fulfilment of this duty — dharma, the numerous votive rites or vratas that women observe, and sati, the ritual ending of life on the dead husband’s pyre — are the essence and epitome of a woman’s pativratadharma. The Dharmashastras and Smritis lay down that it is in performing her wifely and motherly duties that a woman fulfils her religious duties, which in any case remain submerged or conjoined with that of her husband’s. Mary McGee notes that the compilers of religious texts do not discount the possibility of liberation for women, which might accrue from her observing vratas but prescribe saubhagya or marital felicity as the ultimate good for her.30 Renunciation of traditional wifely roles would imply the withdrawal of women’s reproductive capacities and the disruption of the normative 28 See among others, Arvind Sharma (ed.), Religion and Women, Albany: State University of New York, 1987 and Nancy Auer Falk and Rita M. Gross (eds), Unspoken Worlds: Women’s Religious Lives, Belmont: Wadsworth, 1989. 29 A more recent welcome compilation in this field is Sondra L. Hausner and Ann Grodzins Gold (eds), Nuns, Yoginis, Saints and Singers: Women’s Renunciation in South Asia, Delhi: Zubaan, 2007. 30 Mary McGee, ‘Desired Fruits: Motive and Intention in the Votive Rites of Hindu Women’, in Julia Leslie (ed.) Roles and Rituals for Hindu Women, New Jersey: Associated Press, 1991, p. 77.

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order of samsara. Not surprisingly, there is a deep mistrust and antagonism in religious traditions towards women who fail to fulfil their ideal prescribed role. This has resulted in the denial of women’s right to salvation. Women are not considered legitimate soteriological agents with texts and scriptures abounding in misogynist views. They are never the renouncers, but constitute par excellence that which is renounced. Women represent maya, the illusory and transient material world that draws the ‘self’ into unending cycles of bondage.31 This denial of soteriological agency to women has its roots in a deep-seated contempt — a kind of ‘gynophobia’32 — for women’s bodily processes such as menstruation and reproduction, and their sexuality. As purported bearers of uncontrollable libido, not only are women incapacitated for the project of salvation, but are also perceived as snares and temptations for the male spiritual aspirants.33 B. D. Tripathi noted that the attitude of the sadhus toward women ranged from abject hatred to glorification.34 Indeed, all those women — from the widow to the ascetic to the prostitute — who do not subscribe to these given role models are condemned to a process of ‘othering’. While the renunciant rejects marriage and family life, the widow steadfastly holds on to hers by avowing a loyalty to her dead husband; nonetheless in the absence of a male guardian, they both come to be identified as one. Similarly, a parallel is drawn between the renunciant, who though rejecting worldly ties of marriage, professes love for the lord and declares herself the bride of the lord, and the prostitute who becomes a bride everyday. They are both nitya sumangali — eternal brides. This dissolving of difference between various categories of women who transcend social norms is a feature, says Vijaya Ramaswamy, of both orthodox and heterodox faiths.35 31 Lawrence A. Babb, ‘Indigenous Feminism in a Modern Hindu Sect’, Signs, vol. 9, no. 3, 1984, p. 108. 32 Patrick Olville, Samnyasa Upanishads, New York: Oxford Univeristy Press, 1992, cited in Meena Khandelwal, ‘Ungendered Atma: Masculine Virility and Feminine Compassion’, p. 83. 33 Women’s sexuality unless tamed by motherhood always remains dangerous. Lynn Bennett studies the contrast between ‘dangerous wives’ and ‘sacred sisters’ in her study of high caste Nepali women. Dangerous Wives and Sacred Sisters: Social and Symbolic Roles of High-Caste Women in Nepal, Kathmandu: Mandala Publishers, 1983. 34 B. D. Tripathi, Sadhus of India, Bombay: Popular Prakashan, 1978, p. 193. 35 Vijaya Ramaswamy, Walking Naked: Women, Society and Spirituality in South India, Shimla: Indian Institute of Advanced Study, 1997, pp. 10–11.

Teorising Renunciation A 29

Following Dumont, Marglin constructs an opposition between the auspicious housewife and the renouncer, always a male. The maleness of purity can perhaps be reflected in the term used for ‘pure spirit’, namely purusa, a word which can also have the meaning for a ‘male person’ […] pure spirit refers to the value pursued by or characteristic of the renouncer (sanyasi), the seeker of salvation. This person is a man and cannot have a wife. He is an ascetic. A woman cannot become a renouncer […] she must first be born as man…[emphasis added].36

This does not however mean that female renouncers have been completely absent from or unknown in Indian history and culture. The challenge to orthodox Brahmanism’s revulsion towards the possibility of women’s spiritual pursuits came from heterodox traditions such as Buddhism and Jainism, which admitted women’s right and equality to seek salvation, even making institutional arrangements towards this. But even so, a trace of gynophobia could be detected. One may recall here Buddha’s initial reluctance in ordaining women into monastic orders and the imposition of extra eight rules for nuns that perpetually bound them in a position of subordination to monks.37 Nevertheless, early records provide testimony to the amazing accomplishments of Buddhist nuns — as composers of stanzas, as generous donors to Buddhist monuments and buildings, and even as recipients of gifts. From the 3rd century AD onwards 36 Frederique Apffel Marglin, Wives of the God-King: The Rituals of the Devadasis of Puri, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1985, pp. 18–20. 37 Legend holds that the Buddha extracted from the nuns a promise to follow these rules as a price for allowing them to found their own Order (Bhikkhshuni-sangha). These rules are:

1. Any nun, no matter how long she has been in the order, must treat any monk, even the rudest novice, as if he were her senior. 2. Nuns should not take up residence during the annual rainy season retreat in any place where monks were not available to supervise them. 3. Monks should set the dates for bi-weekly assemblies. 4. During the ceremony at the end of the rainy season retreat, when monks and nuns invited criticism from their own communities, the nuns must also invite criticism from the monks. 5. Monks must share in setting and supervising penances for the nuns. 6. Monks must share in the ordination of nuns. 7. Nuns must never revile or abuse the monks. 8. Nuns must never reprimand monks directly. See Nancy Auer Falk, ‘The Case of the Vanishing Nuns: The Fruits of Ambivalence in Ancient Indian Buddhism’, in Nancy A. Falk and Rita M. Gross (eds), Unspoken Worlds: Women’s Religious Lives, pp. 159–60.

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however, there was a downturn in their fortunes as they slid from a position of relative affluence and privilege to poverty and obscurity and eventually to decline and disappearance. Falk attributes the decline of the nuns’ orders to Buddhism’s attempts to reconcile two distinct, and somewhat contradictory understandings of sexual difference.38 The first, based on Buddhist precepts, tends to view sexual difference as a consequence of the inherently ‘fallen state’ of humans. These differences would gradually be effaced as one proceeded on the path of ‘spiritual perfection’ by mastering the hold on desires. At the same time, Buddhist tradition was not untouched by the surrounding patriarchal norms of Hindu orthodoxy, which placed a premium on womanly roles of the dutiful wife and the bountiful mother. It is the absorption of these norms, which, according to Falk, result in the denigration of nuns’ achievements and spiritual capabilities. Therefore, she argues, while Buddhist literature is replete with laudatory references to pious laywomen, nuns appear in these mostly as a source of discomfort and embarrassment. G. S. Ghurye’s Indian Sadhus traces the rise, history, work and present organisation of Hindu asceticism and refers, although only in passing, to the presence of female ascetics. Insofar as Ghurye acknowledges their presence, he is at a loss to account for the incidence of young unmarried girls in the female orders. In his own words: That a certain proportion of Hindu women should turn away from life is understandable. The larger proportion of ascetic women however is formed by females who enter asceticism after their marriage or as girls. In the former case, a number of domestic circumstances conspire to create disgust for life. The source of recruitment of those sadhvis who are initiated in their girlhood is not known.39

More than lack of ethnographic or empirical evidence, it was the way in which analytical categories were constructed and the terms of debate set that inherently precluded the possibility of acknowledging and including female renouncers in earlier studies. In recent years, there has been an attempt to move away from the exclusively maleoriented perception of asceticism to unravel the ways in which women are implicated in it. While critical of the androcentric nature of the existing body of knowledge, there is no consensus on the modes and nature of female asceticism in recent scholarship. 38 39

Ibid., p. 163. G. S. Ghurye, Indian Sadhus, Bombay: Popular Prakashan, 1964, p. 15.

Teorising Renunciation A 31

Moving away from Androcentricism The dissent Bhakti movements could be seen as powerful illustrations of how the feminine may be central to at least certain kinds of renunciatory projects. One of the principal metaphors of religious experience in this tradition has been love, seen almost invariably from the perspective of a woman, either as a painful phase of separation and longing or ecstatic union with the divine lover.40 The spiritual urge comes to mimic the fierce ‘womanly’ sexual urge and even male saints take on a feminine voice, while the women saints themselves abandon and renounce their earthly ties for the love of the Lord to become His wives. By foregrounding the ‘feminine’ qualities of surrender, compassion and nurturance, Bhakti movements created space for women saints to subvert the everyday normative gender roles required of them. Reversal is the leitmotif of Bhakti — reversal of all that the Dharmashastras represent: the pre-eminence of the masculine over the feminine and of the upper caste over the lower caste. An upper caste saint then would have to renounce his pride, privilege and wealth and embrace poverty, dishonour and self-effacement/abasement. The woman saint, by virtue of her sex, requires no such conversion. According to Ramanujan, a female saint typically displays five phases: • Early dedication to God: Not bound to a man, the woman saint is dedicated at an early age to God, her first love. • Denial of marriage: The woman saint may sometimes be married and leave her husband for her true and only love, God; or if widowed, she may refuse the entrapments of widowhood to indicate the negation of her first marriage. Thus women like Mira, Gauri and Venkamma (a Vairashaiva saint), following from their refusal to recognise the validity of the earthly marriage in the first place, defy sati and other practices associated with widowhood. • Defiance of societal norms: The woman saint displays behaviour which typically subverts social norms and inverts established hierarchies. This may include abandoning modesty to roam 40 See A. K. Ramanujan, ‘On Women Saints’, in J. Hawley and D. Wulff (eds), The Divine Consort: Radha and the Goddesses of India, Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1989, p. 316. There exist some Tantric sects that regard women as indispensable to their goal of liberation. Women constitute one of the five M’s that lead to moksha: maithuna (sexual intercourse), mansa (meat), madya (wine), meena (fish), mudra (yogic poses). See Tripathi, Sadhus of India, p. 193.

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naked (Lalla and Mahadevi) or demonstrating miracles to elders and male saints which questions their authority. • Initiation: Notwithstanding the violation of dominant social codes, the saintliness of female saints is legitimated by male figures of authority who test their resolve for a life of renunciation and initiate them into it. • Marriage to the Lord: The woman saint declares herself the bride of the Lord.41 Ramaswamy’s study of ‘anti-Brahmanical’ and heterodox religious initiatives such as the Mahanubhava, Warkari and Ramdasi panths in medieval Maharashtra attests to the draw of these movements for women and lower orders of the society like tailors, carpenters and potters. Without questioning the belief that it was karma that resulted in gender and caste inequalities, the Warkari saints, by extending the path of devotion and salvation to all, still managed to invert existing ideological norms. Indeed many women poets, composers and saints rose to prominence within these panths, the most notable being Janabai, Chakkubai, Muktabai, Premabai and Soryabai among others. In fact, one folk tradition credits Janabai with having composed 125 million of the total 960 million abhangs attributed to Namdev.42 More than 80 per cent of the women saints belonged to the untouchable/lower caste. The extent to which the Warkari panth subverted Brahmanical codes could be assessed from the fact that while orthodox traditions assigned a negative value to female renouncers by comparing them to prostitutes — a prostitute called Kanhopatra was accepted as a saint in the Warkari panth. The socially deviant figure of the prostitute was thus recuperated and firmly located within the realm of the spiritual.43 Even the Mahanubhava panth, which tended to alienate the common people with its esotericism, was radical in its attack on the Vedas and favoured the opening of its monastic orders to women.44 The Lilacharita, a hagiographical account of its founder, Chakradhar, records that women far outnumbered men in his order. Other 41

Ramanujan, ‘On Woman Saints’, pp. 317–22. Vijaya Ramaswamy ‘Women “In”, Women “Out”: Women within the Mahanubhava, Warkari and Ramdasi Panths’, in Joseph T. O’Connell (ed.), Organisational and Institutional Aspects of Indian Religious Movements, Shimla: Manohar and IIAS, 1999, p. 249. Abhangs are devotional hymns composed by Marathi saint–poets. 43 Ibid., p. 248. 44 Ibid., p. 246. 42

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Mahanubhava texts too document the names of influential women disciples such as Mahadaisa, Umaisa, Abaisa and Sobhagem. So great was the visibility of these female disciples that a male Brahmin devotee is said to have raised an objection, only to be rebuffed by Chakradhar thus: ‘Why should these women not come here for the sake of religion? Is there any difference between your soul and their souls?’45 The Ramdasi panth extended the boundaries of this radicalism even further and for the first time, women actually rose to become monastic heads and administrators of mathas. The spiritual successor to Samartha Ramdas, the sect’s founder, was Venabai. She alone had the right to initiate disciples and conduct Ramkirtan, the most significant element of the panth’s religiosity. Akkabai, who headed the mathas at Chaphal and Parli, is said to have warded off a Mughal attack on the mathas and extended help to the Maratha chief Sahu in his campaign against the Mughals.46 These Bhakti movements then tend to unsettle the certainties of Dumont’s oppositions: the entry of lower castes and women into the realm of the spiritual — even a privileging of their socially inferior status — cut sharply at the binary oppositions of twice-born and once-born, man–woman, Brahmin–outcaste, and purity–pollution. Not only do we see monastic heads engaged in earthly matters such as wars; the sharp division between householder and renouncer also fades away since a householder has as much right to become a Warkari as the ascetic who has renounced his household. Indeed, the figure of Bahinbai — who flouted not only domestic injunctions by pursuing the path of devotion despite her married status but also Brahmanical norms by choosing the Shudra Tukaram as her guru — demonstrates that any understanding of renunciation based exclusively on Brahmanical norms is only fractional. Other examples of Hindu women saints who undertook their spiritual pursuits without repudiating their marriages can be cited. Anandamayi Ma, the Bengali saint revered by her devotees as a goddess, was given to spiritual experiences from a very young age. Married at the age of 13, her marriage remained unconsummated as she would lose consciousness each time her husband approached her for sexual relations. In the end, realising her spiritual qualities, her husband

45 46

Ibid., p. 247. Ibid., p. 253.

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received initiation under Anandamayi.47 More striking is the case of the contemporary Tantra saint, Madhobi Ma (Nectar Mother), who was also married at a young age. Driven by deep spiritual yearnings, she took initiation into the Shakta Tantra tradition barely a few years after her marriage. Her initiation did not however render her marriage void as she gave birth to three children, who constituted her ‘worldly family’.48 Nonetheless, it would be wrong to conclude that Bhakti movements did not constrain their own radicalism, or that there was never a conflict between the womanly duties of marriage and motherhood on the one hand and spiritual calling on the other. Renunciant discourses, even those of Bhakti and heterodox religions exhibit a particular ambiguity in that while they do open up spaces for women to question and to sometimes invert tradition, that is, to seize their moments of power and autonomy, they do not completely eschew the overall cultural structuring of renunciation itself as an overwhelmingly male calling. Vijaya Ramaswamy refers to this ambiguity as ‘women in, women out’ in her study of medieval Bhakti movements.49 In the same Maharashtrian panths where one finds the rise of women saints, poets and administrators, one can detect misogynism reminiscent of more orthodox traditions. Jnaneshwar, the Warkari guru, was a fervent champion of sati: ‘A devoted woman would not shun a death that gave her an opportunity to ascend the funeral pyre of her “praneshwar”, her husband, who is her very breath as well as her god.’50 The same Chakradhar who defended the spiritual rights of women, denigrates women as the dangerous ‘other’, the mere sight of whom may cause the fall of great spiritual leaders: ‘Woman is the chief of intoxicating substances. Other substances intoxicate by being used; woman intoxicates just by being seen. You should not even look at the picture of a woman’.51 47 Lisa Lassell Hallstrom, Mother of Bliss: Anandamayi Ma, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999. Anandamayi Ma, b. 1896, d. 1982. 48 Madhu Khanna, ‘Parallel Worlds of Madhobi Ma, Nectar Mother: My Encounters with a Twentieth Century Tantric Saint’, in Durre S. Ahmed (ed.), Gendering the Spirit: Women, Religion and the Post-Colonial Response, London and New York: Zed Books, 2002, pp. 136–52. 49 Ramaswamy, ‘Women “In”, Women “Out”’. 50 Ibid., p. 251. 51 Ibid., p. 253.

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This conflict between stridharma and swadharma may sometimes be resolved in interesting ways. We have already noticed how devotion towards the Lord may be framed in kinship terminology, that is, by referring to devotion as a heavenly marriage and the Lord as a heavenly consort. Here, the resolution remains partial, as a tension between the actual conjugal couple is perpetually palpable. The case of the jivit satimatas demonstrates how the conflict between socially prescribed ideals of womanhood and personal yearnings for renunciation may be averted by actually combining ascetic and wifely duties. The cult of satimatas is of relatively recent origin, following the criminalisation of sati in the colonial period.52 Jivit satimatas are women who expressed a desire to commit sati but were prevented from doing so by their kinsmen for fear of prosecution. Denied the fulfilment of their pativratadharma, these women undertook a life of extreme austerity and piety, thus attracting — like ascetics do — followings of laypeople, who sought their blessings and gifts of miraculous powers, especially healing. While renouncers are believed to be able to transcend sensory perceptions by their tapa, the heat of their meditation, the satimatas are kept alive by the heat of their pativratadharma. The hagiography of Balasatimata valorises her as a saint who requires no worldly resources for her existence. Their detachment from the world led Harlan to comment, ‘the living satimata remains in this world but is no longer of it…’53 This approximates the ideal–typical definition of a renouncer. What is also significant is that as a young woman, Balasatimata (born Rup Kumari) exhibited a disavowal towards marriage as she believed herself to be dedicated to her spiritual husband, Lord Krishna. At the age of 16, she was engaged to one Junkar Singh who came down with high fever when the priest joined the bride’s and the groom’s hands during the wedding ceremony. Junkar could never recover from this and passed away nine days after the wedding. Thus Rup Kumari’s celibacy was protected. Her hagiography records that she displayed no grief at her husband’s death and that her asceticism intensified rapidly thereafter, concluding finally in her recognition as a satimata.54 52 Paul B. Courtright, ‘Sati, Sacrifice and Marriage: The Modernity of Tradition’, in L. Harlan and P. Courtright (eds), From the Margins of Hindu Marriage, New York: Oxford University Press, 1995, pp. 184–204. 53 Ibid., p. 191. 54 The official hagiography locates the episode of her desire to become sati not at the time of her husband’s death but links it to the death of her beloved adopted son. Ibid., p. 196.

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We are stuck by how closely this resembles Ramanujan’s delineation of the early stages of a woman saint’s career. On the other hand, popular contemporary renditions of Balasatimata’s life occlude Rup Kumari’s indifference to her widowhood, insisting on basing her cult upon her unfulfilled wish to burn on her husband’s pyre.55 Pativratadharma thus supersedes swadharma; indeed, one’s spiritual powers and capacities seem to flow from pativratadharma itself.

Leaving the Ideal Behind: Contemporary Female Renouncers Catherine Clementine Ojha was the first to draw attention to the presence of feminine monastic communities in Benaras.56 Conducting the first study of its kind, the initial problem Ojha faced was in identifying such women even in Benaras, the Hindu holy city par excellence. Not only were female ascetics very few in number but most of them also lacked the external markers of an ascetic identity thus making it difficult to distinguish them from the lay female population. Nor was the distinction clear to laypeople who misunderstood Ojha’s project as one on widows and indeed directed her to a widows’ home. Following her survey of three monastic communities in Benaras — two owing allegiance to the Vaishnava sect and the third founded by the charismatic spiritual leader, Anandamayi Ma — Ojha concluded that the major difference between male and female ascetics is that while the former choose sanyasa over householder/grihastha, the latter does not have this choice; she abdicates the only ideal prescribed for her — that of stridharma. ‘She has left the ideal behind.’57 Denton, following quite literally in Ojha’s footsteps in her choice of Benaras as the site of fieldwork, echoes her views when she writes that ‘a woman who rejects or renounces householdership does not simply enter an alternate lifestyle, but embraces a set of values profoundly different from those of the ideal wife and mother in Hindu society.’58 55

Ibid. Catherine Clementine-Ojha, ‘Outside the Norms: Women Ascetics in Hindu Society’, Economic and Political Weekly, vol. 23, no. 18, 1988, pp. WS 34–36. 57 Ibid., p. W36. 58 Denton, ‘Varieties of Hindu Female Asceticism’, p. 218. 56

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In Denton’s view, ascetic women uphold the primacy of salvation and devalue householdership thus drawing a sharp boundary between the ascetic and householder. While Denton views the female ascetics in active opposition to the female householders, Meena Khandelwal in her study of the Dashnami sanyasinis dismisses the claim that sanyasinis invert the normative feminine ideals, by concentrating instead on the continuities between the situation of female householder and renunciants. The sanyasinis that Khandelwal studies liken themselves to female householders, emphasising commonalities such as a male threat and the restriction on independent decisions and travel which constrict their ability to lead a full and free life of the renunciant. She contests and challenges the notion prevalent in earlier studies such as that by Philimore on celibate women in the Himalayas where it is argued that women renunciants mimic male idioms in order to gain legitimacy in a mendicant order.59 Khandelwal on the other hand, pays close attention to the ways in which the womanly qualities of love, compassion and motherhood may be the preferred expressions of renouncers — even male renouncers.60 Despite their differences, these studies offer some of the most powerful critiques of the hegemonic models of the study of religion and renunciation pioneered by Dumont, and followed by his admirers and critics alike. How well suited are the formulations of Dumont, his critics and of those who focus exclusively on women renouncers to the understanding of Jain renunciation in general, and female renunciation among Jains in particular? Several themes emerging from this discussion can be fruitfully deployed to gain an insight into Jain female asceticism. These themes are: opposition between renouncer and householder; the field of inter-sectarian rivalry; and the internal organisation of the ascetic community.

59 Peter Philimore, ‘Unmarried Women of Dhaula Dhar: Celibacy and Social Control in Northwest India’, Journal of Anthropological Research, vol. 47, no. 3, 1991, pp. 331–50. 60 Khandelwal, ‘Ungendered Atma, Masculine Virility and Feminine Compassion’, p. 103.

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Renouncer and Householder The first issue which arises from the discussion of sociological theories of renunciation concerns the relationship between the categories of renouncer and householder. As already noted, Jain religiosity is imbued with the values of asceticism. Householders may traverse the path of spiritual progress through a series of eleven stages called pratimas.61 Pratimas are like rungs of a ladder, each rung signifying a higher degree of asceticism. In the third stage, samayika pratima, a householder resolves to practice samayika (meditation) at least three times a day, thereby equalling the minimum amount of meditation prescribed for a mendicant.62 As one approaches the sixth pratima, ratribhakta pratima, one resolves to limit sexual activity to night time alone, and which is completely shunned on reaching the seventh stage of brahmacharya pratima. Jainism, we see, prescribes celibacy within marriage qua Burghart. And yet, the Dumontian distinction between renouncer and householder remains a valid one for Jains, for it is ascetics alone who are the living models of the ideal of asceticism, and are thereby distinguished from the mass of householders. Jain renunciation is conceived and commonly perceived to be a state of being that negates the household. This is recognised even among Digambars who regard, at least theoretically, their female mendicants as spiritually advanced laywomen and not as full-fledged ascetics. They are nonetheless distinguished from householders as a distinct class of women who have renounced domesticity and samsara for a life of asceticism. But in studying female renouncers, we will need to push beyond the conception of separate categories. The works of Denton and Khandelwal sensitise us to the urgency of examining the perceived continuities or disjunctions between the values and lives of female renouncers and female householders. Confirming Denton’s conclusions, many female ascetics I interviewed, both Digambar and Shvetambar, wished to clearly demarcate their lives and values from their counterparts in households. Repeatedly, Jain nuns spoke of their vairagya in active opposition to the samsaric obligations of husband, family and children. They invariably 61 62

Jaini, The Jaina Path of Purifcation, p. 182. For a full list of pratimas, see ibid., p. 186.

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espoused their life as superior to and more fulfilling than anything that women were capable of achieving in marriage and family. At the same time, there was also recognition on their part of the commonalities shared with grihastha women: male dominance, vulnerability to sexual and physical violence and so on. Dumont’s theory fails not in devising two separate categories but in the manner in which he seals off those two categories — as if the two do not impinge upon and influence each other — casting the ascetic as thoroughly otherworldly, and the householder as totally immersed in samsara. What I argue instead is that it is the crisscrossing ties between the mendicants and laity that give shape to the community, and that it is difficult to understand the preponderance of Jains nuns without being sensitive to the strong inter-linkages between mendicants and laity. Tambiah has advised the suitability of jettisoning the opposition between the individual ascetic and the householder in favour of one between the religious monastic community and the lay household.63 His focus is early Buddhist sangha where the Dumontian ideal of individual-outside-the-society is undercut in many ways. First, Buddhist monks were not isolated individuals but bonded together in a brotherhood of the sangha which engaged in collective rituals and collective deliberations, and thus marked itself off from other sects of renouncers and laity. Second, the prohibition on work, even cooking, rendered the monks absolutely dependent on the laity for their material survival. Finally, in the context of Shvetambar Jains, Tambiah says monks or ascetics are the paragons of the ideals that every Jain, even a layman, must uphold to some degree in their everyday lives. In that sense, Jains exhibit a greater continuity between the householders’ and mendicants’ lives, according to Tambiah. To address the question of quiet hostility to renunciation which results in the pushing back of renunciation to the last stage of a householder’s life in Dumont’s view, we would do well to remember that Jainism’s earliest adherents were not householders but ascetics, nirgranthis (the bondless ones), and it was only gradually that a lay community came over to Jainism. Its earliest extant texts are monastic 63 S. J. Tambiah, ‘The Renouncer: His Individuality and his Community’, in T. N. Madan (ed.), Way of Life, pp. 306–7.

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codebooks, dealing explicitly with ascetic discipline. In these books, we find none of the hostility to renunciation that Dumont mentions; on the contrary, marriage, family and the worldly obligations associated with such institutions are only described as impediments to the path of salvation. One such text, Sutrakritanga Sutra catalogues the horrors of domesticity by providing a glimpse into the lives of the monks who break the vow of brahmacharya. Those captivated by the pleasures promised by marriage are shown as being reduced to mere errand boys for their wives: fetching fruits and cooking when she wishes to eat, fanning her when she feels hot, painting, catering to her every whim when she is pregnant, and becoming a nurse and ‘beast of burden’ when their child is born. This section concludes with the warning: ‘This has been done by many men who for the sake of pleasures have stooped so low; they become the equal of slaves, animals, servants, beasts of burden — mere nobodies.’64 So while there is tension between samsara and renunciation, it is resolved in Jainism not by delaying renunciation to the last stage of one’s life but by favouring renunciation over householdership, and by emphasising ascetic practices even within a householder’s existence. Moreover, even contemporary data demonstrates that Jain renouncers have taken initiation into mendicancy not at a late stage in their lives, after having fulfilled the obligations of samsara, but before they were hemmed in by such worldly duties. My own fieldwork data contradicts the Brahmanical model of renunciation of the four ashramas espoused by Dumont. Increasing number of sadhvis are neither widows nor old women having lived the full life of a householder, but primarily young unmarried women who have taken diksha. Of the 65 sadhvis interviewed, an overwhelming 61 had received ordination in an unmarried state. The age at the time of diksha for sadhvis who had never been married varied from 9 years to 29 years, with the bulk of sadhvis taking diksha when they were 13–16 years of age. (See Appendix for full details.) 64 Sutrakritanga Sutra, Book I, Lecture 4, Chapter 1, translated from Prakrit by Hermann Jacobi, as Jain Sutras, Part II, in Max Muller, (ed.), Sacred Books of the East, vol. 45, Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 2002 (1884), p. 278.

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This data in turn also complicates the apparent contradiction between stridharma and swadharma, a point raised by scholars of gender and religion. It would appear that there exist alternative models of female religiosity among Jains that enable women to eschew the limits of stridharma to focus on their self as merit-and-salvation-seeking agents, that is, to fulfil their swadharma. Indeed, a whole repertoire of positive images, ranging from pious nuns, chaste wives, and mothers of tirthankaras provides cultural validation of the choice of young women to renounce marriage in favour of vairagya.

Internal Organisation and Hierarchy in Female Mendicant Orders The second issue that Dumont’s critics and scholars arguing for gendered analysis of renunciation raise pertains to his dismissal of the category of power from the realm of renunciation, which in his view is a domain untouched by samsaric norms. In a riposte to Dumont, Cort has demonstrated how caste and kinship patterns are reflected in the way mendicant orders are structured.65 A survey of the internal organisation of mendicant orders reveals a strongly hierarchical character, with clearly defined authority structures in place. Though in Cort’s view, sadhvi orders are not as internally differentiated as sadhus’, a hierarchical tendency can be discerned among Jain nuns too. Hierarchy among the Murtipujaks takes the following order: at the bottom of the pecking order are sadhvis; a unit (mandala or thada) of such sadhvis may be headed by a ganini (also agrini or guruni, usually the senior most sadhvi) appointed for life; above a number of such groups, each with its own agrini, is to be found a pravarttini, and a special title of mahattara may be bestowed upon a select number of very learned, disciplined and exceptionally respected nuns. Balbir found that some Gacchs might take the two titles of pravarttini and mahattara as identical, while others may clearly distinguish between the two.66 Nonetheless, mahattaras are few and far between. In the Tapa Gacch for instance, Sumangla ji alone enjoys the status of mahattara.67 When a group acquires a large number of 65

Cort, ‘The Shvetambar Murtipujak Jain Mendicant’, p. 651. Balbir, ‘Women in Jainism in India’, p. 86. 67 Interviewed by author, Atmanand Jain Sabha, Roop Nagar, Delhi. 66

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shishyaas, a guruni may re-divide the group and send them on vihara in a different direction, appointing another senior sadhvi as its head, who still remains under obedience to the guruni. Diagramatically, we may represent the hierarchy as such: Figure 2.1: Female monastic hierarchy among the Tapa Gacch

An additional rank of uppravarttini, subordinate to the pravarttini, can be found in the Sthanakvasi monastic orders. We should not construe the category of ‘sadhvi’ as an undifferentiated one, for even without formal padvis, sadhvis who are senior on account of their age, period of initiation and learning are revered and respected by younger and junior sadhvis. As they gain experience, many sadhvis may be allowed to initiate disciples independently without breaking off from their ganini/agrini. Thus at a given time, a unit of sadhvis may consist of an agrini, her disciples, and even the disciples of her disciples. The thada at Atmanand Jain Sabha would thus be illustrated as in the schematic representation in the preceding chapter (see Figure 1.1). The flow of authority from guruni (preceptor) to disciples is visible here. Even as sadhvis may take on shishyaas, they remain under the overall authority of the agrini. A similar diagrammatic depiction of authority relations among a unit of Sthanakvasi sadhvis is also given in the preceding chapter (see Figure 1.2). Given its highly centralised character, a single sadhvi pramukha presides over the entire female mendicant population in the Terapanth. The sadhvi pramukha, along with a group of about 10 sadhvis, follows the acharya in all his viharas and is knowledgeable about his decisions relating to the gana and communicates this to other sadhvis. The remaining sadhvis are subdivided into smaller groups called singhadas, each headed by an agriganiya or agriganini. Agriganiyas are not necessarily appointed for life but may be changed from time to time. On the occasion of the annual great gathering, they hand back custody of the group under their charge to the acharya.68 68

Shanta, The Unknown Pilgrims, p. 430.

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Below this rank exists a series of grades, including intermediate classes of novices, crafted by the reformist and modernist Acharya Tulsi in 1980. These recent categories, viz., upasaks, mumukshus and samanis act as links between the ascetics proper and the laity. Upasaks are religious students who undertake limited formal vows. They dress in white cotton clothes and receive instruction in Jainism. One of the important duties of upasaks is to cook for the higher category of novices, the samanis. It usually lasts for about a year or two. Mumukshus are a class of laywomen who have taken a vow of celibacy but have not yet been ordained into the monastic order. This period of probation allows young girls to practice temporary renunciation and engage in a systematic study of Jainism in an institutional location, following which they can either progress further in the path of renunciation leading to samani and sadhvi diksha, or return home to a householder’s life.69 A girl desirous of taking samani diksha must necessarily complete seven years of the mumukshu course before that. The status of samanis is highest among all novices as they are partial mendicants. They wear special white clothes called kavach, tie a white handkerchief instead of the muhpatti of a fully initiated sadhvi and lack the latter’s whiskbroom. Like sadhvis, there is a prohibition on samanis to light fire, and yet they are not allowed to seek alms, leaving upasaks to cook for them. As is evident, there is a clear hierarchy even among novices. Fully initiated sadhvis are of course considered superior to those in the intermediate categories. In addition to the statuses of upasaks, mumukshus, samanis, sadhvis and sadhvi pramukha, there exist other ranks: agrini, leader of a group of nuns, as is noted earlier; the head of the samanis is referred to as a niyojika; chief of a group of samanis is called a nirdeshika; sanyojika is head of the mumukshus; and a yojika heads a unit of mumukshus. Thus Acharya Tulsi’s reforms mooted not only new categories but also ensured that each of these categories remained under the control of the Terapanth through a well-defined chain of command. The structure of the female monastic hierarchy among the Terapanthi sect may be represented as in the following table: 69 Because there is no prohibition on the mumukshus undertaking travel by train or air, many of these become ambassadors of the Jain faith, travelling to distant places within India and abroad, where a huge Jain diaspora lives, to lecture and teach Jain religious values and practices.

44 A Escaping the World Figure 2.2: Female monastic hierarchy among the Terapanthis Sadhvi pramukha Agrini Sadhvi Nirdeshika Samani Sanyojika Yojika Mumukshu Upasika70

Digambars have since the beginning evolved a three-tiered hierarchy, graded by the severity of discipline. As one moves up the hierarchy, the codes of discipline become progressively harsh. A fully initiated Digambar nun is called aryika, and addressed commonly with the honorific mata ji. She is duty-bound to practice locha by plucking hair, possesses only one set of garment, an 8-metre-long sari tied around in a knot. The aryika undertakes all her travels on foot and receives alms in her palms. Kshullikas (literally small or miniscule) and ailikas (wearer of one piece of cloth) correspond to the 10th and 11th stages of the pratima scheme of spiritual progress of an ideal Jain layperson.71 Technically still belonging to the category of the layperson, albeit in an advanced stage, kshullikas and ailikas practice locha mostly as a training exercise. They are also allowed to use scissors, that is, it is not incumbent upon her to pluck her hair out. A kshullika is not debarred 70 Based on interviews with Terapanthi sadhvis at Jaipur, and Peter Flugel, ‘ The Codes of Conduct of the Terapanth Saman Order’, South Asia Research, vol. 23, no. 1, 2003, pp. 7–53. 71 Jaini, Jaina Path of Purifcation, p. 186.

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from travelling in vehicles if absolutely necessary and wearing sandals while walking. She receives and eats her gochari in a plate, belonging either to the shravaks or herself. Kshullikas and ailikas may be attached to a group of aryikas, staying and travelling permanently with them; alternatively, they may form a group which follows the acharya closely in his travels and abode. Below this stage is a novice of a still lower order, the brahmacharini, which corresponds to the sixth stage of the 11-step pratimas, wherein the vow of celibacy is assumed. Apart from this, the vows are not very different from pious laywomen. They travel and live with aryikas or kshullikas, and are never alone. Those considered capable of withstanding the extreme austerities required of the higher stages may directly be ordained into the monastic group as an aryika. Some kshullikas may graduate to the status of aryikas while others may remain in this stage through their entire lives. Flugel has drawn a parallel between the Terapanthi grades and the differential stages of Digambar asceticism: while the status of kshullikas is comparable to that of mumukshus, the upasaks lie somewhere between the stage of brahmacharini and an advanced laywoman on the verge of abandoning the household.72 In addition to the formal padvis, informal honorifics may be bestowed upon senior sadhvis, reflecting their wisdom, achievements and glory without entailing any temporal responsibility that official padvis do. The title Jain kranti (Jain revolution) was therefore appended to Dr Manju sri’s name as a mark of recognition of her efforts to edify Jains about the status of nuns. Some other titles I came across were Sangathan Prerika (Inspiration for the Community), Chhattisgarh Shiromani (the Jewel of Chattisgarh) and Shasana Jyoti (The Light of Jainism). Sumangla ji of Tapa Gacch was conferred two titles: Marudhar Singhni (The Desert Tigress) and Shasana Deepika (The Light of Jainism).

Domestication of the Monastic Community What interests us here most is the gendered nature of such hierarchy, which will be referred to as ‘domestication of the ascetic sangha’. The term domestication has been employed in an entirely different sense 72

Flugel, ‘The Codes of Conduct of the Terapanth Saman Order’, p. 9.

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by Carrithers: he uses it to refer to the rise and consolidation of the authority of semi-ascetics — yatis and bhattarakas — in medieval mendicant orders.73 I am using it to describe the replication of the domestic power structures characterised by male authority and female subordination in the Jain ascetic organisation. Shanta writes that even the higher ranks among sadhvis do not necessarily signify any real authority, as even a guruni, agrini, pravarttini and mahattara remain under the overarching authority of the acharya and gacchadhipati.74 The latter are posts which are denied to female ascetics. The highest rank a sadhvi can rise to is that of mahattara, while the higher positions of acharya, upadhyaya and gacchadhipati remain the exclusive preserve of male mendicants. Nalini Balbir finds no records of the title of acharya being used for a nun.75 Theoretically however, a female acharya is not an absolute impossibility. The Vyavahara Sutra, one of the early texts, recognises the possibility of a female acharya and upadhyaya, though with a caveat: a sadhvi could be raised to the rank of upadhyaya 30 years after her initiation, whereas the intervening period for a muni to be promoted to the same rank is merely three years; likewise, a sadhvi could be raised to the status of an acharya after 50 long years following her entry into mendicancy, while munis would require only five years for promotion to the same rank.76 In practical terms, the very suggestion of a female acharya appears unthinkable even to a large number of sadhvis. Murtipujak sadhvis defended the male monopoly over acharya-ship to a great extent through recourse to arguments that were reminiscent of the gynophobia of the early Jain writers.77 Echoing early Jain writers, they held the view that a woman’s nature (swabhava) is characterised by frivolity, shallowness and weakness; her physiology, mainly her ‘weak bones’ and ‘monthly periods’,78 obstructs her from engaging in 73 Michael Carrithers, ‘Naked Ascetics in Southern Digambar Jainism’, Man (New Series), vol. 24, no. 2, 1989, pp. 219–235. 74 Shanta, The Unknown Pilgrims, p. 429. 75 Balbir, ‘Women in Jainism in India’, p. 86. 76 Shanta, The Unknown Pilgrims, p. 418. 77 See Chapter III. 78 Sumati sri, Dinmani sri, Prafullprabha sri, Shrutadarshita sri and many other sadhvis vehemently linked a woman’s physical capacities to her spiritual capacities. Interviewed by author, Atmanand Jain Sabha, Roop Nagar, Delhi.

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lengthy philosophical and theological debates that are obligatory for an ascetic of that rank. Monastic codes do not permit female mendicants to interact with men through the night, as debates often tend to last through nights.79 Moreover, the prohibition on nuns to undertake study of some important texts such as Mahaparjina, Arunopapata and Drishtivada incapacitates them from participating in theological and philosophical debates fully.80 A number of sadhvis argue that male and female orders are parallel organisations, with the rank of acharya among munis equivalent to the rank of mahattara or pravarttini among sadhvis. Yet, the relations between male and female orders, and indeed that between acharya and pravarttini, could be more appositely described as that of superordination and subordination than that of equivalence. Pravarttinis are subject to the authority of the acharyas, the latter being consulted on all matters relating to vihara and chaturmas. This dispossession is compounded by the fact that the highest posts among female orders may lie vacant for years. Contrary to Shanta’s report that the title of pravarttini has been formally abolished among the Sthanakvasis,81 Sthanakvasi nuns I interviewed complained that no sadhvi has been appointed to the post of pravarttini in Northern India for the past 50 years despite appeals and petitions to the acharyas and elders.82 This has led to the consolidation of administrative powers within male orders, which are highly organised with all the requisite ranks of uppravartaka, acharya and pravartaka filled up. Even the appointment of a chief nun, as in the case of the Terapanthis, responsible for the spiritual guidance and welfare of sadhvis and female novices does not diminish the fact that the ultimate jurisdiction over the sadhvi order is not that of the chief nun but of the acharya, whose decisions she communicates and executes. Indeed, the sadhvi pramukha’s position is subordinate to both the ganadhipati (retired acharya) and the yuvacharya (heir designate); her status can be compared to that of mahashramana, head of the munis. As Subhasha ji, 79

Suvriti sri, interviewed by author, Gujarat Apartments, Rohini, Delhi. V. S. Sangave, Jaina Community — A Social Survey, Bombay: Popular Prakashan, 1980, p. 170. 81 Shanta, The Unknown Pilgrims, p. 429. 82 Kusumlata ji, interviewed by author, Jain Girls School, Gurgaon. 80

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one Sthanakvasi sadhvi, noted: though chief nuns could be found historically, their authority was restricted to the female orders and never extended to the munis. Conversely, the acharyas have always exercised their power and authority over the whole of mendicant community, including both nuns and monks. This pattern is also reiterated by the fact that even though sadhvis are initiated under a female preceptor, the initiator’s status is that of the guruni; it is the acharya whom they consider their ultimate spiritual master, their guru.83 Extending Cort’s argument, I argue here that the internal divisions of Jain monasticism reflect not simply caste and kinship organisation, but also that monastic hierarchy is structured through the gendered ideology of domesticity, with the patriarchal authority, consolidated in the figure of the acharya/gacchadhipati, presiding over the parivar, gacch, sampradaya and sangha. Acharya, being the central figure of authority and a fount of charisma, is the object of nuns’ loyalty and devotion. There are two exceptional mendicant groups which have broken the taboo surrounding female acharyas by appointing sadhvis to these posts in their samudayas. The credit for this goes to two iconoclastic munis, Muni Sushil and Amar Muni, who broke away from the Sthanakvasi mainstream to set up the Arhat Sangh (besides the Mahavira Jain Mission and later, Siddhachallam — the first ashrama for monks and nuns in the West) and Veeraytan (Rajgir, Bihar) respectively in the late 1970s. Both Muni Sushil (d. 1994) and Amar Muni (d. 1992) were succeeded by female renouncers rather than male mendicants. Sadhvi Chandana ji, Amar Muni’s disciple became possibly the first woman acharya in recorded Jain history, followed closely by Acharya Dr Sadhna, the Arhat Sangh’s first woman renouncer. As leaders of the missions set up by their gurus, these female acharyas travel extensively overseas to cater to the spiritual needs of the Jain diaspora, raise funds to run the numerous charities their organisations undertake and supervise their numerous socio-religious activities. Chandana ji and Dr Sadhna remain two isolated examples, not emulated or replicated in other samudayas. 83 Sthanakvasi sadhvis in Delhi were critical of the gendered nomenclature: ‘A teacher is a teacher. How can you differentiate them on the basis of their gender?’ Malli sri and Akshay sri, interviewed by author, Jain Vir Nagar Colony, Delhi.

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Gender inequality in Jain monasticism can also be discerned in a wide array of practices. For instance, in the presence of munis, sadhvis are sometimes asked to sit either on the floor or on a pata (a low wooden seat), which is specifically of a height lower than that on which munis are seated.84 Sadhvis can also be pressed into providing for domestic services for the munis. In an article for instance, a leading sadhvi has censured the performance of menial tasks — such as washing clothes, collecting gochari, boiling drinking water — by sadhvis in the service of male renouncers.85 Among the Terapanthis, nuns and monks are expected to contribute something tangible to the sangha, in return for which they gain rewards from the acharya: while nuns are assigned tasks such as fashioning bowls (patras), brooms (rajoharanas) and mouthshields (muhpattis), the more ‘intellectual’ tasks of transcribing lectures and translating texts and scriptures are considered monks’ domain.86 The most visible condensing of such gender bias against sadhvis is to be found in the practice of vandana vyavahara (the practice of salutations). As the exemplars of the Jain ‘path of purification’ and as teachers of Jain doctrine in the present age, mendicants are the objects of ritual salutation, next only in status to tirthankaras and kevalins. The lay community performs vandana to mendicants, as do junior mendicants to seniors. This practice best represents the disparity in the status of nuns and monks among the Jains. Traditionally, even among many Shvetambar sects, these reverential greetings are only directed towards munis, though in some reformed sects, lay Jains perform the same vandana for both sadhus and sadhvis. In all communities however, sadhvis are expected to offer veneration to sadhus, with the latter never bowing to or greeting sadhvis. At the heart of this differential vandana vyavahara lays the suggestion that interactions in the spiritual realm should be governed by relationships of the samsara, where man predominates and the female is subordinate. Thus we find the rule that requires all sadhvis, even one who has been initiated for 84

Mahasati Kesar Devi, interviewed by aythor, Jain Vir Nagar Colony, Delhi. Dr Manju sri, Shraman, Shramani ke ammapiya ke roop mein shravak–sharavikaon ki Shahstra–paddat bhumika aur uska kriyavandan, Unpublished article. 86 Anne Vallely, Guardians of the Transcendent: Ethnography of an Ascetic Community, Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2002, p. 156. 85

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100 years, to offer vandana to all sadhus, even to one who may have been initiated just a day ago. These detailed concerns can be summarised thus: first, Jains accept a marked distinction between renouncers and householders. In the following pages, we test Dumont’s insistence upon these as watertight categories to examine the inter-linkages between the two. Second, asceticism does not imply an automatic repudiation of worldly norms since we see female orders operating according to the principles of hierarchy that are borrowed from norms operative in the samsaric domain. Scholars writing from a gendered perspective have opened up rich avenues of study and many of these contentions — ‘women in women out’, and continuities and ruptures between grihastha women and sadhvis — will be the subjects of investigation in the following chapters. A

3 Nuns and Temptresses: Representing Women in Jainism This chapter examines the representations of women within Jainism in order to explore the extent to which they rupture or correspond to the ideals of womanhood purveyed by orthodox Brahmanism. We have already noted that renunciant discourses are often gendered in such a way as to disempower and exclude women from the project of salvation. Jainism with its recognition of female soteriological agency, one would assume, offers radically different normative models of womanhood — models that would stress women’s independent spiritual quests and capacities. As we shall see, there is no single archetype but a heterogeneity of ideals that appear sometimes to buttress women’s claim to independent spiritual life, and at other times to erode this pursuit. This chapter will survey early monastic codebooks, and interrogate popular stories and other Jain literature in an attempt to unpack the construction of gender and sexuality which heavily influenced the ideas of women’s capability for renunciation. Cult of the Female Goddesses Theoretically, the Jinas or tirthankaras are beyond the pale of the human world and have developed a decided disinterest in the workings of samsara. Followers of Jinas therefore, cannot call upon them for intervention and assistance in their worldly affairs.1 This task falls upon a plethora of mother goddesses. Central to lay Jain devotional practices and rampantly depicted in Jain iconography, Jain goddesses 1 However, Jain religious practices are more complicated than this. John Cort’s work on Jain devotional practices makes us sensitive to the presence of Jina bhakti where followers may, in fact, seek the divine grace of Jinas. John E. Cort, ‘Jainism as a Bhakti Religion’, Lecture delivered at Centre for the Study of Comparative Religions and Civilizations, Jamia Millia Islamia University, 31 March 2008.

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are categorised into three kinds: those residing in the upper realm (urdhvaloka), middle realm (madhyaloka) and the lower realm (adholoka). In the upper realm are goddesses such as Sarasvati and Lakshmi who have clear Vedic affinities; the undifferentiated Tantrik vidyadevis belong to the madhyaloka. Described in early texts as occult powers gained through sadhana, by circa AD 5th–7th centuries, vidyas (or vidyadevis) come to be established as goddesses. Eventually, the number of vidyadevis came to be fixed as 16 in both Shvetambar and Digambar traditions. The most important of all goddesses, yakshis are to be found in the lower realm, the adholoka. Yakshis, also called shasandevatas, are the attendant deities of various tirthankaras or sites associated with them or other liberated beings such as Bahubali in Sravan Belgola in Karnataka. While some yakshis remained minor figures in Jain devotional practices, at least three goddesses, Padmavati, Chakreshvari and Ambika command independent cults. Indeed, Padmavati’s temple at the Lal Digambar temple complex in Old Delhi is the largest devotee puller, as crowds throng to have a darshana of Padmavati. These goddesses are invoked to intercede in human affairs and indeed, texts and inscriptions suggest that they were called upon to aid a king’s victory in battle, a monk’s success in theological debate, and to settle disputes.2

Narratives about Chaste Jain Woman The tradition of sati narratives is a thriving one in Jainism. These are popular stories about chaste women and the miraculous powers their chastity grants them. Fohr argues that in Hinduism, the image of woman first and foremost as a temptress (rather than a soteriological agent) impeded the attraction of Hindu women to a life of mendicancy.3 On the other hand, she claims, the representation of women as satis or chaste women, capable of a life of renunciation, facilitated the entry of Jain women into its monastic orders. Fohr also cites the popular circulation of sati narratives as evidence of the Jain conception of the 2 See John E. Cort, ‘Medieval Jaina Goddess Tradition’, Numen, vol. 34, fasc. 2, 1987, pp. 235–55. 3 Sherry E. Fohr, ‘Restrictions and Protection: Female Jain Renouncers’, in Peter Flugel (ed.), Studies in Jaina History and Culture: Disputes and Dialogues, London: Routledge, 2004, p. 159.

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feminine as essentially chaste. Jain tradition recognises 16 mahasatis (great satis)4 whose lives and deeds are recorded in the canonical texts, later commentaries and popular biographical tales. Their biographies document their transition from pious laywomen to nuns. The most popular sati narratives are the stories of sati Rajimati and Chandanbala (the first head of the nuns’ order during Mahavira’s time). Many nuns and laywomen repeated these stories to me as ideals of Jain female chastity. These are also the subjects of popular drama performances during Jain festivals or chaturmas.

Te Life of Chandanbala Without doubt, the most feted of all Jain female renouncer figures is Chandanbala, the first woman to take ordination under Mahavira. She is seen by nuns and laity alike as a model of renunciation and her extraordinary life worthy of popular propagation. Hers is a story that is widely known among ordinary Jains, and her trials and tribulations are the stuff of popular drama performances and Jain storybooks. Chandanbala was born in the royal family of Champa. Her mother, Queen Dharani was a pious Jain laywoman devoted to scholarship and religion, and bequeathed the same values to her daughter. Chandanbala convinced her parents to allow her to devote her life to high ideals and remain unmarried. Their life passed peacefully till one day, when Champa was attacked and vanquished by the army of Kaushambi. The Princess was sold off as a slave but saved by Dhanavah, a virtuous trader. Dhanavah’s fatherly affection for Chandanbala was misunderstood by his wife, who exploiting Dhanavah’s absence one day, cut her beautiful, long hair, chained her legs, and locked her in an underground cell for three days without food and water. On his return, Dhanavah was horrified to learn of his adopted daughter’s condition. On finding only boiled lentils, kept for feeding animals, in the house, he plied Chandanbala with them. Meanwhile, he sent for an ironsmith to break the cuffs. Fortuitously, Lord Mahavira was passing that way, having taken a particularly harsh vow for breaking his fast. He had undertaken to accept only boiled lentils from the hands of one who was once royal but now a slave; whose hair was shorn and feet 4 The 16 mahasatis are: Brahmi, Sundari, Chandanbala, Rajimati, Draupadi, Kausalya, Mrgvati, Sulasa, Sita, Damyanti, Sivadevi, Kunti, Subhadra, Chelana, Prabhavati and Padmavati. See Balbir, ‘Women in Jainism’, p. 82.

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chained; and who had fasted for three days. He had roamed for five months and 25 days, finding no suitable candidate by whose hands he could accept food. As he came upon Chandanbala, her chains broke and her hair re-grew, as if by their own volition. Chandanbala finally broke Mahavira’s fast by offering him food. His sermons moved her to renounce samsara and take ordination under him. Eventually, she headed the sadhvi sangha of 36,000 sadhvis. Though I had heard the story many times, I realised the full force of its moral and emotional content while watching Bharati sri, a Sthanakvasi sadhvi, direct children in a play based on Chandanbala’s life. Bharati sri’s hands would go up to her ears in horror when the little girl playing Chandanbala was enacting the scenes in which she is being sold to a prostitute or when she is being tortured by the trader’s wife. ‘How our satis suffered to preserve their vows! Oh, how they had to endure! They were no ordinary women,’5 she would tell me repeatedly.

Te Story of Rajimati Rajimati, wife of the tirthankara Neminath, was passing through a dense forest on way to Girnar Mountain when it began to rain. She took refuge in a cave not knowing that her brother-in-law, monk Rathanemi was meditating there. She took off her clothes to dry. Seeing her thus in a naked state, he was sexually aroused and propositioned her. Upon realising his presence and intentions, she tried to dissuade him by reminding him that his brother had forsaken her. ‘I am akin to vomit, how can you ingest something that has been vomited. You have reached an exalted state, please exercise control’, she urged him. Rajimati’s admonishment brought Rathanemi to his senses. Both practiced severe austerities and eventually attained liberation. Thus it is the chaste and virtuous Rajimati who prevents the moral downfall and spiritual degradation of a monk. It is she who through her active intervention becomes the real agent of her own and Rathanemi’s enlightenment and moksha. Indeed, this is how most Jains also interpret and present the narrative in various dramatised versions. However, at least in one instance, I found a radically different interpretation of the sati Rajimati narrative. Sadhvi Prafullprabha of the Tapa Gacch deployed this story to substantiate her claim of women’s 5

Bharati Sri, interviewed by author, Jan Vir Nagar Colony, Delhi.

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innate and out-of-control sexuality and fickle nature. This came up during a discussion on patriarchal references to women found in some texts. Prafullprabha defended such allusions to women insisting that women, being more fickle minded and coquettish, required greater discipline and control. Only occasionally were women like Rajimati able to exercise control over their sexual urges, she maintained. When I argued that Rajimati’s story indicated the inability of men, rather than women, to control their sexual desires, Prafullprabha’s response was to ask me who it was that was responsible for provoking his sexual desires. It was the sight of Rajimati’s naked body that provoked Rathanemi to be aroused. Rajimati became the nimitta (the express cause) of Rathanemi’s arousal, as indeed all women are potential nimitta for men’s spiritual downfall. Thus we see that even sati narratives glorifying the virtuous woman have the possibility of being harnessed in service of creating and constructing an alternative and patently negative view about women.

Mothers and Virtuous Wives Virtuous as Jain satis are clearly accepted by Jains to be, ‘their lives are not chosen […] as models for the lives of the laywomen in their families.’6 This is because Jain sati narratives usually conclude with these glorified women becoming nuns; the tension between the demands of the family and the draw of the faith is resolved in favour of the woman renouncing the obligations of kin and family. This renders sati narratives as inappropriate models for emulation by laywomen who must, above all, uphold the values and honour of the family, in preference over an independent spiritual pursuit. This tension is resolved in a very different way in the numerous stories that appear in Jain magazines, journals and festschrifts honouring senior nuns. These are stories occasionally written by nuns, laywomen or even men. Several of these deal with pious Jain women whose piety and devotion are tested by opposition from affinal kin. The female protagonist engages in prolonged fasting, worshiping and even undertakes pilgrimages. This is resisted by the affines because there is a clear competition between her devotion to religious practices and her duties towards her husband 6 M. Whitney Kelting, ‘Good Wives, Family Protectors: Writing Jain Laywomen’s Memorials’, Journal of the American Academy of Religion, vol. 71, no. 3, 2003, p. 648.

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and his family. Although these stories are also narratives of glorification, they do not conclude with the woman turning in to a renouncer; rather the resolution is mediated through the transformation of the family. The steadfastness of her devotion, what Kelting calls ‘selffocused religiosity,’7 forces the affinal family to realise her virtues and participate in her piety. In resolving the conflict in a manner that preserves the priority of household and family without abandoning the ideal of a pious Jain woman, these stories approximate the Hindu tradition of satimata8 rather than Jain sati narratives. The most exalted model of womanly and wifely conduct is Mayna Sundari. Mayna was a princess deeply committed to Jain values. Devoted to the Jain goddess Chakreshvari, she performed severe austerities and undertook all the rituals prescribed for pious Jains. This irked her father, the king. In order to teach her a lesson, he married her off to a leper, Shripal, challenging her to cure her husband’s leprosy through recourse to her austerities and devotion. Unperturbed, she instructed her husband in the teachings of Jain faith, converting him into a devout Jain. As a result of their joint devotion to the goddess Chakreshvari and her rigorous fasts, her husband was miraculously cured and they became prosperous. Mayna Sundari and her husband have attained the status of an exemplary Jain married couple: her virtuosity is commemorated in the navpada oli (nine-day) fasts undertaken by women for the wellbeing and felicity of their husband and family. She is the ideal Jain pativrata, a virtuous wife and a Jain evangelist.9 In women’s telling of the story, Mayna Sundari is placed at the centre, while her husband Shripal is cast as a supporting character. This is how several nuns narrated the story to me. In contrast, many versions committed to writing push Mayna Sundari to the margins, rendering it as the story of King Shripal who was cured of leprosy by his wife’s devoutness.10 Furthermore, in this story, she is even denied 7 Whitney M Kelting, ‘Good Wives, Family Protectors: Writing Jain Laywomen’s Memorials’, Journal of American Academy of Religion, vol. 71, no. 3, 2003, p. 646. 8 See Chapter II for jivit satimata. 9 Tapa Gacch sadhvi Sayamratna sri rued that in the present age, women are no longer emulating Mayna Sundari. She cited the example of a Jain woman in the locality where the sadhvis were staying who had re-married following the death of her first husband. Interviewed by author, Roop Nagar, Delhi. 10 For instance Ratnashekhar suri’s Shirivala Katha in Prakrit, composed before 1372 and

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any religious agency: the ayambila fasts she undertakes are at the instructions of an acharya; even the siddhachakra11 she worships has been devised by the acharya. The edge of her ‘self-focused religiosity’ has been blunted and domesticated completely. Gold, in her study of devotional Rajasthani songs and stories, has noted a striking difference in the way men and women narrate stories about independent women.12 Jungli Rani, who gains divine favours through her devotion, is cast as a dangerous and evil character in the popular renderings. When women recount this tale on the day of sun worship, she is depicted as a much-misunderstood woman, who is finally accepted on her terms. In other tellings, however, a grimmer fate awaits her: she is turned variously into a gold statue or even killed. Elsewhere, Ramanujan has argued that women often tell their own lived realities through these stories. Storytelling thus becomes an act invested with their agency.13 It is interesting to note that no sadhvi I met cited the 19th tirthankara Malli Devi as a role model for Jain women, lesser so for Jain female mendicants. While the Digambar nuns of course outrightly denied the possibility of a female tirthankara, even the Shvetambar sadhvis deemed her presence in the tirthankara pantheon as ‘an exception and a wonderment’ (ashcharya14), ‘a rare occurrence’ likely to be never repeated again. The role models most alluded to were the mothers of the tirthankaras, who raised their sons to be world renouncers. Sadhvi after sadhvi deployed the mothers of tirthankaras, especially Maru Devi15 and Trishala16 to counter the negative depictions of women in Jain texts. These women had proved, in the view of many sadhvis, the Gujarati Shripal Rajano Ras, composed by UpadhyayaVinayvijay and Mahopadhyaya Yasovijay in 1682. See Cort, Jains in the World, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2001, p. 164. 11 It is a diagram of nine petals representing the five supreme lords of Jainism — the Jina, siddha, acharya, upadhyaya, and sadhu, the three jewels and asceticism. As representative of Jain soteriology, siddhachakra is an object of devotion. 12 Anne Grodzins Gold, ‘Afterword: Breaking Away...’, in Meena Khandelwal, Sondra L. Hausner and Ann Grodzins Gold (ed.), Nuns, Yoginis, Saints and Singers: Women’s Renunciation in South Asia, Delhi, Zubaan, 2007, pp 318–344. 13 A. K. Ramanujan, ‘A Flowering Tree: A Woman’s Tale’, in Vinay Dharwadker (ed.), The Collected Essays of A. K. Ramanujan, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1999, p. 426. 14 In discussion with Sthanakvasi sadhvis at Jain Vir Nagar Colony, Delhi. 15 Mother of Rishabha, the first tirthankara. She is believed by the Shvetambars to be the first person in the current time cycle to have attained liberation. 16 Mahavira’s mother.

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that women were the real source of greatness in this world. It was just that their greatness may derive not necessarily in seeking salvation for their own selves but in acting as spiritual guides for their sons. The feminine quality of nurture was the most easily acceptable ideal of a good Jain woman. There are thus obvious limits to the independent course that women may be allowed to chart: the obligations of kin and family demand that female spiritual virtuosos are not privileged as the sole models for Jain womanhood. Examples of chaste and virtuous wives who preserve the agnatic code of honour are just as replete. These women embody a religiosity that does not conflict with familial and domestic duties. Furthermore, the stereotype of woman-as-temptress is not altogether missing, as is evident, from the numerous warnings issued to monks. The debate on strimoksha also serves to define women as sites of shame, desire and violence, rendering them antithetical to the project of renunciation.

Rules for Ascetics There are exhaustive rules guiding ascetics about their conduct in a variety of situations: from the everyday mundane part of an ascetic’s existence — such as begging for clothes and food to the extraordinary, such as the ideal mendicant conduct when confronted by ruffians while crossing a river by boat (the mendicant is expected to leap off the boat while remaining unruffled). These rules are to be found in the corpus of monastic codebooks such as Acharanga Sutra, Uttaradhyayana, and Sutrakritanga. Most of the injunctions, beginning with ‘a monk or a nun should’ or ‘a monk or a nun should not’, recognise the existence and centrality of nuns in the monastic order. In Book II of the Acharanga Sutra, the foremost book of mendicant conduct, we find numerous strictures that are aimed at segregating and protecting mendicants from the temptations that define a householder’s existence. Being itinerant, monks and nuns had to perforce seek residence in a shravak’s home to spend the night. There were only certain kinds of lodgings that mendicants were allowed; others, such as the following examples, were to be avoided by the conscientious mendicant: A monk or a nun [emphasis added] should not use for religious postures… a lodging where the householder or his wife […] rub or anoint each other’s body with oil or ghee or butter or butter or grease; for it is not fit…

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Similarly: a monk or a nun [emphasis added] should not use for religious postures […] a lodging where the householder or his wife […] rub or shampoo each other’s body with perfumes, ground drugs, powder, lodhra […] for it is not fit.17

Similarly, a monk or nun is also prohibited from taking refuge in a lodging where the householder or his wife clean, wash, or sprinkle each other’s body with hot or cold water.18 The spiritual equivalence of nuns and monks is recognised in these books of discipline by the manner in which both nuns and monks are equal recipients of disciplinary directives.

Re-looking at the Ascetic Codes All mendicants, irrespective of their gender, are expected to remain scrupulously loyal to pancha mahavratas or the five great vows, which are undertaken at the time of diksha. These five vows are: ahimsa (vow of absolute non-violence); satya (vow of absolute truthfulness); asteya (vow of absolute non-stealing); brahmacharya (vow of absolute celibacy) and aparigraha (vow of absolute non-attachment and nonpossession). Even though there is no explicit difference in the rules prescribed for nuns and monks — both are expected to follow the vows of nonviolence, truth, non-stealing, celibacy and non-possession — there are enough hints that when it comes to warning the mendicants to adhere to the vow of absolute celibacy, the rules appear to be primarily addressing men. Examine for instance the vow of brahmacharya, which enjoins the ascetics hence: I renounce all sexual pleasures, either with gods or men or animals. I shall not give way to sensuality and […] exempt myself.

It lays down five clauses to this great vow. The first clause runs thus: A Nirgrantha does not continually discuss topics relating to women [emphasis added.] The Kevalin says: If a Nirgrantha discusses such topics, 17 Acharanga Sutra, Book II, First Part, Lecture 2, Lesson 3, trans. from Prakrit by Hermann Jacobi, as Jain Sutras, Part I, See Max Muller (ed.), Sacred Books of the East, Vol. 22, Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 2002 (1884), p. 131. 18 Ibid., Book II, First Part, Lecture I, Lesson 4, pp. 95–96.

60 A Escaping the World he might fall from the law declared by the Kevalin, because of the destruction or disturbance of his peace…

Now follows the second clause: A Nirgrantha does not regard the lovely forms of women [emphasis added.] The Kevalin says: If a Nirgrantha regards the lovely forms of women, he might fall…

Then follows the third clause: A Nirgrantha does not recall to his mind the pleasures and amusements he formerly had with women. The Kevalin says: If a Nirgrantha recalls to his mind the pleasures and amusements he formerly had with women [emphasis added], he might fall…

The fourth clause exhorts the following: A Nirgrantha does not eat and drink too much, nor does he drink liquors or eat highly seasoned dishes. The Kevalin says: If a Nirgrantha did eat and drink too much, or did drink liquors and eat highly seasoned dishes, he might fall…

This is the fifth clause: A Nirgrantha does not occupy a bed or couch affected by women [emphasis added], animals or eunuchs. The Kevalin says: If a Nirgrantha did occupy a bed or couch affected by women, animals, or eunuchs, he might fall…19

Masculinising Renunciation Elsewhere, Acharanga Sutra warns monks of the dangers — and the ever-possible fall into the cesspool of sin — that lurk in a householder’s lodgings where women reside in the following lines: While the mendicant lives together with the householders, he might see the householder’s earrings or girdle or jewels or pearls or gold or silver or bracelets […] or necklaces (those consisting of three strings, or those reaching halfway down the body…) or decked or ornamented girl or maiden. Thus the mendicant might direct his mind to approval or dislike: ‘Let her be thus;’ or, ‘Let her not be thus.’ So he might say, so he might think. …

19

Ibid., Book II, Third Part, Lecture 15, Lesson 4, pp. 207–8.

Nuns and Temptresses A 61 This is [another reason]: While a mendicant lives together with householders, the householder’s wives, daughters, daughters-in-law, nurses, slave-girls or servant-girls might say: ‘These reverend Sramanas […] have ceased from sexual intercourse; it behoves them not to indulge in sexual intercourse: whatever woman indulges with them in sexual intercourse, will have a strong, powerful, illustrious, glorious victorious son of heavenly beauty.’ Hearing and perceiving such talk, one might induce the mendicant to indulge in sexual intercourse. Hence it has been said to the mendicant that he should not use for religious postures […] a lodging used by the householder.20

This passage throws open several questions. The most obvious is that contrary to the earlier cited rules of conduct that address both male and female mendicants by specifically evoking the terms, ‘monks and nuns’, this one is conspicuously directed to the more general ‘mendicant’. However, it quickly fixes the gender of this generic mendicant by making references to the ‘decked or ornamented girl or maiden’ whom the mendicant is strictly debarred from devoting any thoughts to. Moreover, the desire of the women of the household to mate with the one who has ‘ceased from sexual intercourse’ tends to characterise asceticism in terms of semen retention, its glorification in terms of the power of his stored seed, which when released would spell not only the end of his mendicant vows but also produce a son of unparalleled beauty and vigour. Here, we are reminded of Burghart’s model ascetic who pays off the debts to his ancestors through retention of semen.21 What it achieves, above all, is a reversion to the script made familiar to us in the practice of orthodox Hindu asceticism, with its recognisable cast of the male ascetic and the female temptress. From the lady of the house to the lowliest slave-girl, each one stands as a potential cause for the downfall of the mendicant by causing him to break his vows, either in thoughts — by thinking of the bedecked maidens; or in deeds — by being induced into sexual intercourse. By bedecking herself with ornaments, a woman is not deliberately seeking the mendicant’s attention; however by contriving to beget a son by him, she comes to be invested with sexual agency. Whether or not she is plotting to seduce the monk, it is clear that women, especially the women of the 20 21

Ibid., Book II, First Part, Lecture 2, Lesson 2, pp. 123–24. Burghart, ‘Renunciation in the Religious Traditions of South Asia’, p. 638.

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household are best avoided by monks to preserve their vows and to circumvent their descent into sinfulness.

Men as Mendicants/Women as Temptresses This theme gets an even more elaborate treatment in some other texts: the Sutrakritanga (the second anga or limb of the Jaina canon) and the Uttaradhyayana (the second Mulasutra text). Dealing with a variety of subjects, both works act as guides for young initiates, instructing them in true Jain doctrine, the correct path to the highest good, the principle duties of a monk, and above all, the dangers that punctuate a monk’s spiritual life. Lecture XXXII of Uttaradhyayana Sutra titled the ‘Causes of Carelessness’ recalls some of the sanctions we came across in Acharanga Sutra: A Sramana engaged in penance, should not allow himself to watch the shape, beauty, coquetry, laughter, prattle, gestures, and glances of women, nor retain a recollection of them in his mind.22

And soon enough, the feminine comes to be identified as one of the prime causes of carelessness — and the principal source of danger — in a monk’s spiritual career. Attachment to women, decrees Uttaradhyayana Sutra, is the most difficult to surmount and those who have achieved this will find it simple to sever their affections to other ties and pleasures. Forbearance and indifference to womanhood is the mark of a true monk — ‘those who possess the three guptis cannot be disturbed even by well-adorned goddesses.’ Yet the wholesome way for a monk is still to live alone, especially sheltered from the female presence because ‘it is not safe for mice to live near the dwelling of a cat…’23 Thus the threat to the monk’s chastity and ascetic vows derives not merely from his own lack of control and continued attachment to the pleasures a woman affords — which even though extremely arduous, he is capable of perfecting and exercising — but from the cat-like predatory female who presents an unrelenting drag on his spiritual pursuits. 22 Uttaradhyayana Sutra, Lecture XXXII, translated from Prakrit by Hermann Jacobi, as Jain Sutras, Part II, See Max Muller (ed.), Sacred Books of the East, Vol. 45, Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 2002 (1884), p. 186. 23 “As it is not safe for mice to live near the dwelling of a cat, so a chaste (monk) cannot stay in a house inhabited by women.” Ibid.

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The Sutrakritanga Sutra devotes an entire chapter to the ‘Knowledge of Women’. Its principal intent is to familiarise and caution the monks about the ways of women, their seductive tricks, their fickle nature and the terrible consequences that befall those who give in to this temptation. Part I is aptly titled, ‘How Women Tempt a Monk’. Here, the monk is upgraded from the status of a mouse to that of a fearless single lion. The woman though remains the entrapper who ensnares the monk/lion with a piece of flesh.24 The ‘flesh’ here is not simply allegorical, for it is her physical flesh that tempts the ascetic and misleads him from his true path. Subsequent passages regard the monk variously as an antelope, a man who drinks poisoned milk, a pot filled with lac, and the woman as hunter, poison, thorn and fire (which causes the pot of lac to melt). A woman is defined simultaneously by stupidity and caprice: ‘with clever pretences women make up to him, however foolish they be; they know how to contrive that some monks will become intimate with them.’25 Pretending to be pious, women will, the monks are warned, attempt to lure them by beseeching them to accept a robe, an alms bowl, food or drink from them, or even by pleading the monks to teach them the law of asceticism, as if they wish to give up their current way of life.26 However a monk should never trust a woman because ‘one man [women] have in their heart, another in their words, and another still in their actions.’27 Such views are also echoed by many contemporary sadhvis too. While narrating the story of a legendary monk, Sadhvi Prafullprabha endorses the view that women are by nature fickle minded and bearers of unbridled sexuality. Sthulbhadra Muni lived with a prostitute for 12 years. But later, he was transformed and thought that he should convert the prostitute into a pious shravika. When he returned to her [with this aim], the prostitute thought that he had come back to her for pleasure. Upon seeing him in muni vesh, 24 Sutrakritanga Sutra, Book I, Lecture 4, Chapter I, translated from Prakrit by Hermann Jacobi, as, Jain Sutras, Part II, See Max Muller (ed.), Sacred Books of the East, vol. 45, Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 2002 (1884), p. 272. 25 Ibid. 26 ‘A young woman, putting on fine ornaments and clothes, will say to a Sramana: “I shall give up (my former way of life) and practice the rough (viz., control). Reverend Sir, teach me the Law!”’. Ibid, p. 274. 27 Ibid.

64 A Escaping the World she exclaimed that he, who used to look like a prince earlier, resembled a beggar now. The Muni replied that he had renounced the world and become a Jain sadhu. The prostitute mocked him and challenged him to observe his chaturmas in her pleasure palace. So the great Muni spent his rainy retreat in her house which had erotic pictures painted on its walls. The prostitute danced before him and tried to ply him with rich foods. But he remained utterly unmoved. His was only one aim — that of converting the prostitute to a shravika, to bring her to the true path. And finally he succeeded. His absolute control and discipline convinced the prostitute. Sthulbhadra’s guru had four disciples: one spent his chaturmas at the edge of a lion’s den; another near a snake’s pit; the third on the periphery of a well. But upon hearing them all, the Guru declared that Sthulbhadra’s had been the most severe because he had won over the woman. So if one sees, all of these were very dangerous but Sthulbhadra had passed the most difficult test. Even great munis can fall from their greatness [because of women].28

The Nun as a Sexual Agent

The complete absence of nuns in these strictures is quite conspicuous. Should we assume that the early Jain texts believed that nuns were capable of exercising self-restraint or were asexual beings not requiring the same degree of discipline that was being enjoined upon the monks? Or should we draw a different conclusion: that notwithstanding the ostensible equal attention to both nuns and monks in laying down the rules governing their conduct, Jain texts were still unable to fully abandon the norms of the surrounding culture which characterised renunciation as exclusively male? Falk in her study of the Buddhist nun orders attributes the decline of female orders in Buddhism to precisely this reason. She has argued that Buddhism was unable to shake off the patriarchal norms of Hinduism, even while offering a radically different ideology of women’s equal spiritual entitlements. It appears that Jainism too, despite recognising women as equal components of the Jain spiritual world, both as shravikas and sadhvis, could not wrench free from the tendency to portray renunciation as an essentially male pursuit. Thus we see many of its monastic codes inadvertently erase away the presence of its female practitioners. Their role is then reduced to being mere impediments in the path of this essentially male quest for salvation. 28 Tapa Gacch sadhvi Prafullprabha, interviewed by author, Atmanand Jain Sabha, Roop Nagar, Delhi.

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One direct consequence of characterising the feminine as inherently sexual — inimical rather than amenable to the path of renunciation — was that even those women who were engaged in the pursuit of liberation were invested with a sexual agency. Their ability to renounce sex and remain steadfast to the vow of celibacy was rendered suspect. If, in the earlier texts, the nuns are effaced from discussions on celibacy, many post-canonical texts, including among others Brihatkalpa Sutra, Brihatkalpabhashya, Nishitha Churni and Avashyaka Niryukti developed specific rules for female mendicants in great detail. Writers have noted that while in its early phase, Jainism like other shramanic religions, defended egalitarian attitudes towards women, many of its later texts and commentaries developed a panoply of stringent rules for female mendicants. These were geared towards maintaining a strict control over the nuns’ conduct, especially sexual conduct. Brihatkalpa Sutra for instance, forbids a sadhvi from venturing out of the upashraya on her own, unaccompanied, for the purpose of gochari (alms), food or toilet. Further, it prescribes 11 kinds of clothes for the nun, all of which must be worn while she is travelling.29 This reflects the need to protect nuns from the imminent threat of sexual assault they might face while travelling. But these are relatively mild when compared to what the Brihatkalpabhashya prescribes. This text prohibits nuns from keeping in their possession or using all fruits and vegetables which had elongated or oblong shapes. Similarly, objects with handles and knobs were banned for nuns. These objects were taboo on account of their similarity in shape to the male organ. It was believed that the sight of these fruits and objects would stir sexual desire in nuns and that those objects could be deployed for gaining sexual pleasures.30 Further, nuns were strictly warned that they should repudiate any pleasure arising from the accidental touch of an animal, and refrain from masturbation under all circumstances. Indeed, strict penalties have been stipulated for any infraction.31 It was the opinion of the writers of these texts that for many women, asceticism was a refuge from the problems of life and not driven by 29 Cited in Arun Pratap Singh, Jain aur Bhikshuni Sangh: Ek Tulnatmak Adhdhyan, Benaras: Parshvanath Vidyashram Shodh Sansthan, 1986, p. 107. 30 Brihatkalpabhashaya, Part II, p. 952, cited in Singh, ibid., 108. 31 Brihatkalpabhashya, Part III, pp. 2331–52, cited in Singh, ibid..

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purely spiritual aspirations. These women could not embrace a life of renunciation, nor follow the five mahavratas it entailed, in any genuine manner. They continued to hanker after worldly pleasures, including sexual pleasure, necessitating a strict regime of control. There is a perceptible difference in the kind of strictures pertaining to celibacy that are issued to the male and female mendicants. The strictures to monks lie more in the domain of cautions and warnings: portents really of the depths to which a monk may sink if he fails to solidly defend his vow of brahmacharya. His portrayal approximates that of a victim who needs to continuously guard his chastity from women. A nun however needs to be protected both from potential molesters and rapists as well as her own self. There are no stories that gently mock her possible spiritual degradation; neither do fables lampoon the chains of domesticity that might bind her. Instead, we have a harsh indictment of the feminine itself.

Manly Restraint and Womanly Sensuality: Te Female in Jain Narrative Literature Jains are known as the principal storytellers of India. Their narrative literature straddles the genres of katha, charitas, prabandhas or universal histories. These have been the primary vehicles of disseminating the Jain values of asceticism, of defining the normative models of conduct and socially accepted behaviour. There is, expectedly, a great deal of overlap between these genres, as when a biography of an illustrious Jain mendicant is told as a tale, or incorporated into a story, in order to expound a Jain moral or to explicate the obligatory rituals to be performed by ascetics or laypeople. Several themes outlined in the rulebooks of the Jain ascetics — virulent female sexuality, their beguiling and fickle nature, the necessity of equanimity even in the face of temptation, but above all, the paramount concern with resolving the dilemma of sensuality and asceticism — surface with amazing frequency in Jain narrative literature. Of particular interest to us may be a series of polemical stories that appear in Hemachandra’s The Lives of the Jain Elders.32 The bulk of the 32 Hemachandra was a 12th century Shvetambar scholar–monk. He enjoyed a close relationship with the Chaulakyas of Gujarat, and is said to have converted Kumarapala, a

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text comprises stories exchanged between Jambu33 and his eight wives on the night of their wedding, held just a day prior to the embracing of ascetic vows by Jambu. These can be seen as truly emblematic of the way in which Jainism conceives of the conflict between the vows of chastity — the difficulties that lie strewn in the path of remaining loyal to the vow of chastity, but ultimately, the necessity of upholding it as the only true path to final liberation — and sexual desires (which become the metaphor for all worldly pleasures.)34 Again, the impulse towards chastity is rendered male through the figure of Jambu while sexual desires are condensed into the figure of female via Jambu’s eight wives who tell him stories that extol the virtues of enjoying the pleasures of the flesh and underline the urgency of doing so. Jambu’s purpose in narrating these stories is to fob off his wives’ overtures by foregrounding the importance of chastity and the terrible consequences that ensue from sexual gratification. Jambu narrates the story of Vidyunmalin who comes to earth to gain magical powers along with his brother, Megharatha.35 The formula to gain these powers is to cohabit with a woman while preserving one’s chastity. Both soon marry two untouchable girls: one one-eyed and the other buck-toothed. While Megharatha remains steadfast to his vows and becomes a master of magic, Vidyunmalin falls passionately in love with his deformed wife and makes her pregnant. His brother entreats him to leave the community of untouchables since they have now gained the magical powers and will be able to enjoy a ‘free choice of beautiful goddesses’; Vidyunmalin confesses that he has deviated from the true path and as a result remains deprived of the magical powers. Despite his brother’s appeals, Vidyunmalin begs off saying that he lacks ‘the moral worth to abandon this pregnant, low-caste woman […] I have caused myself to go astray through this lustfulness Chaulakya ruler, to Jainism. A prolific writer, he composed a book of Sanskrit grammar, a manual of conduct (Yogashastra), and two universal histories of Jain personages and events: The Lives of the Sixty-three Illustrious People and The Lives of the Jain Elders. See R. C. C. Fynes, Hemacandra: The Lives of the Jain Elders, London: Oxford University Press, 1998. 33 The last person in this time cycle to gain omniscience. 34 Lecture XXXII of Uttaradhyayana Sutra already notes that ‘to those who have overcome the attachment (to women), all others will offer no difficulties; even as to those who have crossed the great ocean, no river though big like Ganges, (will offer any difficulty).’ p. 186. 35 ‘The Story of Vidyunmalin’, Canto 2, The Lives of Jain Elders, pp. 82–85.

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of mine.’36 He promises to master the magic powers within a year. The story then recounts the next two years in the lives of the two brothers: while Megharatha, deploying his powers lives in a palatial house and enjoys all the good things of life, Vidyunmalin wallowing in the gutter of passion for his ugly wife becomes a slave to her wishes and that of her family and a nurse to their son. ‘The Story of Vidyunmalin’ appears to be a dramatisation of the various rules of chaste conduct and the consequences of breaking those.37 There is a difference though: here, the woman lacks sexual agency (she is never depicted as ensnaring the man); and she is characterised in singularly repugnant terms (deformed, buck-toothed, low-caste), which makes the slavishness of the male even more inexplicable. It sets up a series of oppositions: between the two brothers who are the denizens of a mountain place (Dear-to-the-Sky) and their wives who reside on earth; the brothers’ exalted status as master magicians and the girls’ low social status as untouchables; Megharatha’s steadfastness in his vows and Vidyunmalin’s desertion of the same; the celestial beauties at Megharatha’s service and Vidyunmalin’s ugly untouchable wife; the heavenly pleasures enjoyed by Megharatha and the degradations suffered by Vidyunmalin. All these oppositions seek to accentuate the virtues of chastity and the dangers that accrue from blind passion. Thus Jambu tells his wives that he shall not emulate Vidyunmalin. The wives’ stories are celebrations of the pleasures of the flesh and caution Jambu against abandoning the delights their bodies offer to him now in pursuit of a distant and unrealisable goal.38 Most remarkable is

36 Ibid. Recall the passage that warns about the dangers arising from supporting women, Sutrakritanga Sutra, p. 274. 37 Especially, ‘How they Treat him Afterwards’, in Sutrakritanga Sutra, Book 1, Lecture 4, Chapter II, pp. 275–278. 38 This is the moral of the story of the monkey couple, for instance, in which the monkeys are magically turned into humans by jumping at a holy spot, whereupon they proceed to indulge in love play. The woman (formerly she-monkey) is contented with her life but the man (the former male monkey) desires a divine status. The woman says: “Let divinity be; our pleasure certainly surpasses divinity [emphasis added], that pleasure which we two enjoy, always unseparated, freely and without hindrance.” The monkey not heeding the female’s pleas jumps at the same spot again in the hope of being elevated to the status of gods. Alas, he resumes the monkey form. The story ends with the woman becoming the queen and the monkey performing at the court. See ‘The Story of the Pair of Monkeys’, Canto 2 in The Lives of the Jain Elders, pp. 66–69.

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the ‘Story of Nupurapandita and the Jackal’.39 The tale actually comprises of two separate sets of events, propelled by the unchaste actions of two women. It opens with the goldsmith’s daughter-in-law, Durgila — ‘foremost of cunning women, she was an ocean of beauty’40 — bathing in the river. A young handsome man is passing by and the two immediately fall in love, but go their separate ways without meeting that day. While both are pining for each other, the young man enlists the support of a Jain nun — ‘who was like a family goddess for loose women’ 41 — as messenger [emphasis added]. To cut the long story short, the lovers meet in the Ashoka grove behind Durgila’s house but are discovered by the father-in-law who removes her anklet as proof of her nocturnal rendezvous with another man. Durgila has noticed this and sets in motion a plan to outwit her father-in-law and to emerge from this with her badge of the chaste wife intact. She hurries her young lover away and returns to her husband’s chamber, brings him to the same spot in the Ashoka grove, makes love to him and when he has emerged from his post-coital slumber, complains to him that her father-in-law has removed her anklet while they were asleep. The son confronts and rebukes his father for this act. Durgila then vows to clear her name of this accusation by passing between the legs of the yaksha, who is believed to trap all guilty people between his testicles. As she is proceeding towards the yaksha, her lover — as arranged beforehand — emerges from the crowds and clings to her like a mad man. Durgila beseeches the yaksha that she be trapped between his testicles if she had known the touch of any man other than her husband and this mad man who touched her in the temple. While the yaksha is still contemplating the merit of her arguments, she quickly passes between her legs and is hailed as a chaste wife by all present. ‘Because she had refuted the stain of dishonour which had come about through the removal of the anklet (nupura), people called her Nupurapandita (‘Clever Nupura’).’42 The wives then narrate the story of an adulterous queen. At its conclusion, Jambu’s wife says: ‘So pay no heed to these parables of persuasion and dissuasion. They’re unsuitable for people like us. Enjoy sensual pleasure!’43 39

Ibid., pp. 69–82. Ibid., p. 69. 41 Ibid., p. 71. 42 Ibid., p. 76. 43 Ibid., p. 82. 40

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Nupurapandita’s tale also makes an appearance in Avashyaka Sutra.44 The story of the clever adulteress is rather unique in attributing moral dubiousness to a Jain nun (who helps out the young lover in meeting Durgila); but while Hemachandra’s narrative merely portrays her as the patron of ‘loose women’, in the Avashyaka Sutra story, the indictment is much harsher: the young man solicits the nun’s help through flattery and concludes, “since the nun bursts out laughing playfully when she is spoken to by handsome youth, surely she goes in search of love while in search of alms”45 [emphasis added]. The climactic story recounted by Jambu decides the argument resolutely in favour of the worthiness of chastity and culminates finally in the undertaking of renunciatory vows not only be Jambu but by his eight wives. It is a chronicle of a lusty and adulterous queen, Lalitanga, who takes a handsome paramour.46 Their lovemaking is interrupted by the arrival of the suspicious king, whereupon the queen and her servant throw the young man into a cesspit behind the palace for fear of being discovered. There he survives for months like a dog on the remains of the meals thrown by the queen and her maidservant. In the rainy season, the palace gutters flood the hole with water which carry him into the moat outside. Lying unconscious on the banks of the moat, he is discovered by his old nurse who takes him home to his family who nurse him back to good health. Jambu poses this question to his wives: with his vigour renewed, would the young man return to the queen’s quarters even if she begged him? The wives are unanimous that he would not, and rapidly the matter is settled and they too wish to renounce with him. What is remarkable about the story is the dark, gynaecological terms in which Jambu lays out the moral of the story of Lalitanga: Lalitanga, revelling in sexual pleasures, represents the embodied soul; the dark hole in which the young man is pushed stands for the womb; the remnants of meal thrown down the cesspit symbolise maternal nurture; the time spent in the hole is equivalent to the foetus’ time in the 44 Avashyaka Sutra is the repository of obligatory duties to be performed by Jain monks. Commentaries on the Avashyaka Sutra were huge storehouses of kathas which illustrated the importance of adhering to these essential duties. Nupurapandita’s story appears in Phyllis Granoff (ed.), The Clever Adulteress: A Treasury of Jain Literature, Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1993. The translation of this story in the anthology is by Nalini Balbir. 45 Ibid., p. 21. 46 ‘The Story of Lalitanga’, Canto 3, The Lives of Jain Elders, pp. 104–10.

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womb; the man’s expulsion from the hole denotes the developed foetus’ emergence through the vagina; his fall into the moat represents the arrival of the child in the mother’s room; the swooning of the young man at the banks of the moat is comparable to the baby’s swooning when it is freed from its protective membrane of skin and blood, and so on. It is in this story that we see the gynophobia inherent in other stories and texts reaching its apogee. In a culture where fecundity is celebrated as auspicious, it is quite extraordinary that the process of reproduction and birth is painted in such murky terms so as to inspire renunciation and disgust. Food leftovers, vagina, foetus, the messiness of blood and skin are all guaranteed to evoke loathing for the very process of reproduction — and for the female physiology that is its site. We have seen how Jain popular stories, didactic tales as well as books of rules could create virulently misogynist cultural roles for women. Jainism negotiated constantly between its legitimisation of women as rightful soteriological agents and the impulse to masculinise the practice of renunciation itself. Thus on the one hand, it approved of asceticism as a valid option for women and on the other, implicated women as the very anti-thesis of this path. This ambiguity is most evident in the debates surrounding the possibility of strinirvana.

Linga, Bhava and Moksha From its earliest days, Jainism, being a predominantly monastic religion, was confronted with the question of rightful candidates for entering its monastic orders. Who can be ordained? Who must be prohibited from ordination? How to sift the legitimate aspirants from faux candidates? And even more importantly, which is the correct path of mendicancy: the clothed or the naked? Each of these questions drew into contestation the figure of woman, her body and sexuality. Central to this debate was the distinctly Jain conception of gender and sexuality. Despite its heterodox origins and character, Jainism shared certain features with the late Vedic culture, circa 8th–6th century BC, namely the threefold division of genders into male, female and napunsaka (literally not a male). Even in its treatment of the origin, conception and embryology of the threefold division of sexes, Jainism replicates the view espoused by Ayurveda:

72 A Escaping the World And again, it has been said of old: a man and a woman combine in cohabitation in a cunnus, which was produced by their karman, and there they deposit their humours. Therein are born the souls of different men, viz., of those born in karmabhumi; or in the minor continents of Aryas and barbarians, as women or men or eunuchs, according to the semen and blood of the mother and the other circumstances (contingent on their coming into existence). These beings at first feed on the menses of the mother and the semen of the father, or both combined into an unclean, foul (substance). And afterwards they absorb with a part (of their bodies) the essence of whatever food the mother takes. Gradually increasing and attaining to the proper dimensions of a foetus they come forth from the womb, some as males, some as females, some as neuters”47 [emphases added].

According to the commentator Shilanka, a male will be produced if semen is in excess, a female if the blood, and a neuter if they are equally balanced. Further, a male is produced from the right side of the womb, a female from the left and a neuter from together (the centre). The Jain catalogue of biological genders (dravyalinga48) was hardly new: male (pumlinga/purushalinga), female (strilinga), and neither male nor female, the imprecise (napunsakalinga) defined on the basis of primary and secondary sexual features.49 Thus a dravyapurusha is one who exhibits the external bodily markers such as moustache, beard and the male organ; a dravyastri is one who displays such female signs as breasts, vagina, smooth skin and so on; the dravyanapunsaka is one who lacks the male and female sexual markers. Where Jainism differed from other schools of thought was in distinguishing these external, bodily markers from the psychological, internal markers termed bhavalinga50. While bhavalinga subsumed the psychic characteristics of a sex — for instance, tenderness, timidity and inconstancy as essentially feminine — its bedrock was sexual inclination. In a move that appears designed to be a stinging rebuff to Brahmanical orthodoxy, these psychological sexual orientations at the heart of the Jain conception of sexuality were called veda. Three kinds of libido or vedas were recognised:

47

‘The Knowledge of Food’, Sutrakritanga Sutra, Book 2, Lecture 3, p. 393. Dravya implies substance, material or physical features. 49 Jaini, Gender and Salvation, p. 11. These lingas were believed to arise from the nama–karma. 50 Bhava meaning emotions belong to the psychological realm. 48

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(a) Striveda: It is the awakening of sexual appetite in the female when she comes into contact with men, or even at the mere sight of men. The striveda has the same effect among women as the predominance of biliousness creates a desire for the sweets. The arousal of this erotic instinct instantaneously debases a woman just as a mild fanning or blowing quickens the fire under ashes into a consuming blaze. (b) Purushaveda: This kind of libido is characterised by sex–passion in males at the sight of, or in the company of, females. This erotic instinct is comparable to the nature of a straw-fire, which dies out after consuming the straws. So too this purushaveda dies out immediately after its temporary ascendance and consummation. (c) Napunsakaveda: More than a discrete sexuality, this type is an accretion and combination of the two earlier types of veda. It arouses in both the male and the female alike a desire for sex with their own type. So strong is this urge that it has been likened to the conflagration that reduces the whole town to ashes. This suggests that the possessors of the last veda are characterised by hyper-sexuality. Therefore, we may speak of a person as a bhavapurusha (psychologically male) if the pumveda/purushaveda is aroused in him as a result of his karma and he becomes sexually covetous of a female. Likewise, if the awakening of the striveda stokes a person’s passions for a male, then that person may be designated as a bhavastri; and finally, the simultaneous desire for both men and women marks the person as bhavanapunsaka. Even more interestingly, Jains do not insist on a necessary correspondence between bhavalinga and dravyalinga, i.e., between morphological gender and sexual orientation. It was perfectly possible they argued, for instance, for a woman to experience female, male or third-sex libido, and so also for men and hermaphrodites to experience any of the three libidos. This double classification along the axes of dravya and bhava was a unique Jain proposition. It departed drastically from the Brahmanical view which privileged primary and secondary sexual characteristics (that is, the presence or absence of long hair, body hair, breasts and vagina) and the ability to conceive and procreate as the determinants

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of a person’s sexual status. The signal contribution of Jainism in the field of sexuality lay in cleaving the overlap between natural sex, sexual orientation and gender roles; a conception that was unparalleled in any contemporaneous school of thought.51 Jain discourse on sexuality was elaborated in the background of practical and theoretical dilemmas that Jainism, with its centrality on monastic orders countenanced. Since renunciation called for an absolute suppression of libidinal desires, only those capable of achieving this could be admitted into this life. Sexually ambiguous personages, particularly eunuchs and homosexuals, were prohibited from taking initiation into the monastic community. Their palpable sexuality (‘a village conflagration’) rendered them as threats to the strict codes of celibacy and posed a constant threat to other mendicants. The question was also if a woman’s morphology and psychology (dravyalinga and bhavalinga respectively) were amenable and reconcilable with ascetic ideals, and ultimately with liberation? But given the disjunction between dravyalinga and bhavalinga, there was no consensus on who was to be categorised as a woman, and who a man.

Te Debate on Female Renunciation This debate raged for 1,000 years, wherein both sides laying claim to scriptural authority, empirical observation, linguistic interpretation, and logical reasoning, produced a huge corpus of literature concerned 51 The implications of such a proposition opened up rich possibilities for the theorisation of non-heterosexual behaviour, and allowed for the explanation of homosexuals, bisexuals and other sexually ambiguous personages. This theoretical move, argue Zwilling and Sweet, rendered the category of the third-sex into a highly heterogeneous one, inhabited by a motley group of people: eunuchs, homosexuals, bisexuals and so on. See Leonard Zwilling and Michael J. Sweet, ‘“Like a City Ablaze”: The Third Sex and the Creation of Sexuality in Jain Religious Tradition’, Journal of the History of Sexuality, vol. 6, no. 3, 1996, p. 377. A spate of recent scholarship on sexuality in traditional India has focused on establishing the indegenity of homosexuality (to counter the charge of it being a Western import). In this endeavour, it has turned to various traditional texts of classical and medieval India, but has largely ignored the Jain tradition. See for example, Ruth Vanita and Saleem Kidwai (eds), Same-Sex Love in India: Readings from Indian History and Literature, New York: Palgrave, 2001 and Ruth Vanita (ed.), Queering India: Same-sex Love and Eroticism in Indian Culture and Society, Delhi: Routledge, 2002. It is Zwilling and Sweet who have persistently focused on third-sex constructs and non-normative sexuality in Jain textual tradition. See also Zwilling and Sweet, ‘The Evolution of Third Sex Constructs in Ancient India: A Study in Ambiguity’ in Julia Leslie and Mary McGee (eds), Invented Identities: The Interplay of Gender, Religion and Politics in India, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2000, pp. 99–132.

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with the theme. Beginning with Kundakunda, a circa AD 2nd century Digambar mendicant,52 it comes to a close in the 17th century, with the Shvetambar mendicant Meghavijaya who has in a sense the final word. The following section draws upon the translations and compilation of those texts by P. S. Jaini. Kundakunda’s Sutraprabharta 53 is the first text known that refutes the validity of clothed mendicancy and denies women access to spiritual pursuits on account of the prohibition on female nudity and her specific female biology. Though there is no categorical denial of strimoksha, but in disqualifying them from assuming full mendicancy, Kundakunda lent scriptural weight to the argument against women’s salvation. He says, ‘In the teaching of Jina a person does not attain moksha if one wears clothes… Nudity is the path leading to moksha. All other are wrong paths.’54 And then, he goes on to add — and this is very important: In the genital organs of the woman, in between her breasts, in their navels and armpits, it is said [in the scriptures] that there are very subtle living beings. How can there be the mendicant ordination (pravrajya) for them [since they must violate the vow of ahimsa]?55

Further, he says, ‘Women have no purity of mind; they are by nature fickle-minded. They have menstrual flows. [Therefore] there is no meditation for them free from anxiety.56 Dundas considers this to be an incorrect attribution to Kundakunda, representative more of the later attitudes than the early Digambar views.57 Nonetheless, Kundakunda does enjoy the reputation of launching the most frontal attack on the legitimacy of clothed mendicancy and 52 The Digambar Acharya Kundakunda enjoys preeminent status in the Digambar hierarchy, second only to Acharya Bhadrabahu. His prestige probably derives from the fact that his prolific writings and compilations of a great many liturgical texts contributed vastly to the creation of a parallel Digambar canon after the group lost the original sermons of Mahavira and the exegesis of his ganadharas. Jaini, Gender and Salvation, p. 32. 53 ‘The Sutraprabharta of the Digambar Acharya Kundakunda (circa AD 150)’ in ibid., pp. 31–40. 54 Ibid., p. 35. 55 Ibid. 56 Ibid., p. 35. 57 Dundas, The Jains, p. 242.

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received, quite expectedly, a scathing rebuttal from the circa AD 6th century Shvetambar Acharya Jinabhadra who made a case for the place of clothes and the use of begging bowls — but remained silent on Kundakunda’s dismissal of women’s ability to undertake the ascetic vows. It was left to an obscure Jain sect called the Yapaniyas58 to lead the first full-scale scholarly counter charge in defence of the possibility of strimoksha in the form of Strinirvanaprakarana (‘A Treatise on the Nirvana of Women’), and a supplementary commentary Svopajnavritti by circa AD 9th century Saktayana.59

Temporal and Spiritual Inequalities Saktayana cites the compatibility of the three Jewels — Right knowledge (samyak-gyan), Right Conduct (samyak-charitra) and Right View (samyak-darshana) — with women as proof enough that their spiritual liberation is possible. Pre-empting the Digambar claim that the perfection of these three jewels in women is impossible, he dismisses this as ‘mere verbiage’ unsupported by a ‘valid means of verification, a scripture derived from a reliable person, or any other [form of proper reasoning].’60 Saktayana catalogues the major arguments of Digambar opponents and proceeds to demolish each, one by one. Women’s inability to fall to the lowest hell owing to her incapacity for extreme action is held up by Digambars as corroboration of her inability to rise to the summit of the universe in an exalted state. Digambars then go beyond a reliance on scriptural authority to cite instances of women’s inferior status in society in general and in religious organisation in particular to bolster their argument of females’ innate spiritual inferiority. They cite the inability of women to engage in doctrinal debates and to attain certain occult powers called labdhis which are considered essential for engaging in these debates, but which are also in both traditions considered the exclusive preserve of men. Finally, Digambars point to the unequal status of nuns and monks in monastic orders, invoking especially the Shvetambar mendicant rule which stipulates that ‘even if a nun is 58

Origins of the Yapaniya sect are shrouded in mystery. See Jaini, Gender and Salvation, pp. 41–42. 59 ‘The Strinirvanaprakarana with the Svopajnavritti of the Yapaniya Acharya Saktayana (circaAD 814–67)’ in ibid., pp. 41–107. Saktayana was hailed by both sects as a great grammarian and his status among Jains equals that of Panini. 60 Jaini, Gender and Salvation, p. 49.

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ordained for a hundred years she must pay homage to a young monk even if that monk has been ordained that very day, by going forth to meet him and by greeting him in reverence.’61 In the Digambar view then, the existence of their low status within the ecclesiastical order, their non-participation in debates and the denial of labdhi powers to women was evidence of their inferiority in reaching the required perfection without which moksha was impossible. Saktayana denies the validity of the first charge and after laying out protracted syllogistic formulae, he concludes: Just because men and women have unequal capacities with reference to falling into the hells, it does not prove that there is no parity in their upward passage into a pure state of existence.62

He argues that the possession of supernatural powers and skills in debating, acquired through excellence in austerities, is not a prerequisite for the attainment of moksha. None of the passages in the scriptures dealing with the theme of realisation of moksha list this, or even other conditions — such as the ability to read Purvas (extinct texts) — as necessary qualification for reaching the exalted state of nirvana. Saktayana’s strategy is not to refute the incapacities of women for scriptural learning, attainment of powers and distinction in austerities, but to unyoke the accomplishment of moksha from any of these factors by denying any concomitance between the two. Moreover, he says, the list of inordainable people which includes only women of certain types (for example, pregnant or those with a young child) indicates that there was no blanket prohibition on women’s ordination, nor any doubt on their ability to achieve moksha. The bulk of Saktayana’s text is devoted towards establishing clothes as mere aids (upkarana) of mendicant life, akin to the whiskbroom, as opposed to possessions. He cites the Shvetambar text, Brihatkalpa, which makes repeated references to the nirgranthi (literally a woman without any possessions). Such a title would not have been possible, reasons Saktayana, if her clothes were warranted as possessions. It is incorrect, he says, to equate the nun with the householder merely on account of her clothes; while the householder is forever implicated in the sense of possession, the nun has already freed herself of any such 61 62

Ibid., pp. 66–70. Ibid, p. 53.

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covetousness. A more apt comparison would be with an ailing monk who accepts clothes to cover his pus-dripping haemorrhoids and anal fistulas (which attract insects and result in injury and harm to them). To the charge that nuns risk inflicting himsa on the millions of microbial organisms that nestle in the clothes when wearing them, Saktayana counters that a nun, by diligently following the conduct laid down by the arhats is not a perpetrator of violence. Injury can occur only through carelessness or wilfulness — both of which the nun lacks.63

Who is a Woman? A passage in Umasvati’s Tattvartha Sutra — a text recognised by the warring sides of Digambars and Shvetambars — which affirms the linga of the liberated souls, thus suggesting that women could achieve liberation too, has been a major source of confusion and contention. The use of the term manyushini has been grist to the mill of Jain scholars who have interpreted and deconstructed the term to harness it for their own argument. For the Svetambars, it is conclusive confirmation of their argument in favour of strimoksha, whereas the Digambars cite the Jain distinction between dravyastri and bhavastri, arguing that liberated beings are physical males with female bhava and sexual feelings, thus rejecting any suggestion of strimoksha. Saktayana’s defence of strimoksha insists on the primary meaning of the word woman, and even goes as far as to suggest that in its singular meaning, manyushini refers to one who is endowed with the physical characteristics of breasts and the vagina. In a break from the dual conception of gender and sexuality we encountered earlier, he discards the understanding of striveda as sexual desire for a male, describing it simply as female sexual desire. Saktayana further says that moksha derives from a purity of thought and not purity of body; all sexual feelings have been sublimated at the stage of siddha-hood since all three types of libidos are destroyed when one enters the ninth gunasthana.64 Moreover, if it is possible for physical males with female bhava to attain moksha, as Digambars allege, it is also possible for women to experience desire for another woman and become notional males. Here, Saktayana raises another important problem: the distinguishing of people on the basis of sexual feelings rather than biological gender 63 64

Ibid., pp. 59–61. Ibid., p. 83.

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would imply a sanctioning of same-sex marriage and prohibition on monks to live together.65 He concludes that third-sex desire is a perversion of male and female sexualities and not a third kind of sexuality. Just as in the absence of ‘a lusty woman, a man might fornicate with animals’66. Thus it is wrong to impute that manyushini implies a man with a female sexuality.67

Shame and Desire A comprehensive repudiation of Strinirvanaprakarana emerged 100 years later with Prabhachandra’s Nyayakumudachandra.68 Almost a point-by-point rebuttal, Prabhachandra’s work is remarkable for drawing an association between the (womanly) feelings of bashfulness or shame (lajja) and their impulse and necessity to remain clothed, and then by relating this to their unremitting sexual drives. Rejecting the Yapaniya argument that clothes are mere aids (upkarana) and not possessions, for nuns lack the sense of possession, Prabhachandra is adamant that clothes are a certain sign of covetousness. Moreover, he argues that if clothes could be allowed to women to dispel their feelings of shame — with no loss to their potential for gaining moksha — it would also be acceptable that they be allowed to take lovers to calm their sexual desires. Prabhachandra’s singular achievement was in identifying womanly lajja with insatiable sexual drives. [Digambar]: Objection. Surely, then, why not also allow them to take a lover in order to combat the torment of concupiscence, for there is no distinction [between dispelling shame and dispelling sexual desire]?69

So forceful was Prabhachandra’s confutation of strimoksha by insisting that manyushini refers at all times to biological males experiencing striveda that he acquired a supremely authoritative position within the Digambar position and became the target of all polemical exercises emanating from the Shvetambar camp.70 65

Ibid., p. 87. Ibid., p. 89. 67 Ibid., pp. 90–99. 68 ‘The Nyayakumudachandra of the Digambar Acharya Prabhachandra (circa AD 980–1065)’ in ibid., 109–38. 69 Ibid., p. 127. 70 A later Shvetambar writer referred to his work as the double-forked tongue of the Digambar snake. Ibid., p. 113. 66

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Prabhachandra’s arguments, ample as they were, received ideological reinforcement from the circa AD 12th century Acharya Jayasena’s work, Tatparyavritti.71 Drawing heavily from Kundakunda’s Sutraprabharta, the most striking feature of Jayasena’s commentary is the explication of those elements that had remained embedded and only hinted at in the writings of Kundakunda: namely, woman’s bodily condition. In Jayasena’s hands, many more noxious characteristics come to be attributed to her body and we see a thorough condemnation of women: as purveyors of all deluding passions, as repositories of impurities, and characterised by fickleness of mind and weakness of body. For the first time, we come across such a malevolent evocation of menstrual blood: Women are subject to the sudden oozing of blood [i.e., the menstrual flow]; which brings about both fickleness of mind as well as weakness of body and generates extremely subtle human organisms.72

Jayasena admits that even male bodies may harbour subtle organisms — a charge originally brought by Kundakunda against women — but this is akin to a mere ‘speck of poison’ in comparison to women whose entire bodies are suffused with poison. Moreover, he argues a woman’s body is not conducive to the severe austerities necessary for salvation, its weakness deriving from a lack of the first three samhanana (the adamantine joints of bones that lend sturdiness to the body). Significantly, those males who experience the female libido do possess the samhanana and hence are qualified to attain nirvana. Jayasena thus reduces the question of attainment of moksha to the presence or absence of a couple of joints of bones. To Kundakunda and Jayasena’s harsh indictment of the female anatomy and her bodily processes, Meghavijaya, the 18th century Shvetambar scholar–monk adds that it is due to the millions of beings lodged in her body that ‘women suffer from constant itching… which does not allow them ever to have any cessation of sexual desire.’73 In fact, he goes a step further to suggest that menstrual flow is not an 71 ‘The Tatparyavritti of the Digambar Acharya Jaysena (circa AD 1180)’ in ibid., pp. 139–47. 72 Ibid., pp. 142–43. 73 ‘The Yuktiprabodha with Svopajnavritti of the Shvetambar upadhyaya Meghavijaya (circa AD 1653–1704)’ in ibid., pp. 159–93; p. 166.

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involuntary (that is, a natural) function of a woman’s body but a voluntary act directly connected with a woman’s libido, comparable to a man’s seminal discharge. Nonetheless, his defence of strimoksha is vigorous and novel. He attacks the clubbing of women with napunsakas as incapable of achieving moksha. Meghavijaya argues that the hermaphrodite’s incapacity for liberation arises not from his physical gender, but from his insatiable libido (‘a village conflagration’). With this, the Shvetambar conception of sexuality returns to the familiar model of a breach between physical gender and sexual orientation, which some of the earlier Shvetambar authors had repudiated in order to fix a singular meaning of the term, manyushini. Women’s libidos are like men’s; whereas hyper-libidinousness is the sign of the hermaphrodites. Meghavijaya thus shifts the burden of eligibility for ordination and moksha from physical body to sexual orientation, even allowing for hunchbacks and other physically deformed people access to a life of asceticism. While not disputing that women in general do display the defects highlighted by Digamabars (such as crookedness, excessive sexual desire, falsehood and so on), he urges for distinguishing the category of nuns — who undertake the vows of celibacy — from the general population of women. He approvingly cites earlier authors who have written: In the vagina of a woman also, beings with two or more senses […] are born, numbering from 100,000 to 200,000, up to a maximum of 300,000. When a man and a woman unite sexually, these beings in the vagina are destroyed, just as if a red-hot rod were inserted into a hollow piece of bamboo [filled with sesame seeds.]74

Again, he says: In the uterus of a woman who has been once united with a man, as many as 900,000 five-sensed human beings can be conceived at any moment. Of these 900,000, only one or two will be successful in being born as fully developed human beings, whereas all the rest will simply perish then and there.75

74 75

Ibid., p. 179. Ibid., p. 179.

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Thus, a woman is the site of himsa and injury. However, Meghavijaya does not set great store by this himsa. The violence that ensues from the flow of menstrual blood in the vagina of a woman is akin to, in Meghavijaya’s estimation, excess of phlegm due to a sinus condition or the flow of blood or pus due to wounds or boils. Even though Meghavijaya turns menstruation into a wholly volitional and libidinal exercise — akin to the seminal discharge among men — which would disappear with a woman’s advancement along the spiritual stages and effacement of veda, he can hardly be held guilty, as indeed Leslie holds him, of assigning it terrifying qualities.76 In Meghavijaya’s view, it is only a minor defect — similar to unpleasant voices, deformity of limbs, dark complexion, etc. Unpleasant it may be, but there is nothing truly horrific about it.

Malli Devi or Mallinath? It must be mentioned here that in recognition of women’s capacity for salvation, Shvetambars depict the 19th tirthankara or ‘ford maker’, Malli, as a woman — whilst Digambars worship her as the male Mallinath. Nonetheless, Shvetambar images and idols, except for one single image77, do not represent Malli as a woman but almost as an asexual being with the absence of the diacritical marks of her sex — picked up promptly by Digambars as conclusive proof of the 19th tirthankara’s male gender.78 Moreover, argue Digambars, the Shvetambar admission of the possibility of a woman gaining moksha at the age of eight suggests that the girl would have sufficiently developed breasts and may have even experienced menstrual periods. A menstruating kevalin would only evoke repugnance and would be surely unacceptable. This harks back to the sectarian difference pertaining to the nature of the omniscient being. Digambars claim that 76 See Julia Leslie, ‘Menstruation Myths’ in Julia Leslie (ed.), Myths and Mythmaking, Surrey: Curzon Press, 1996, pp. 87–105. 77 The ‘Meditating Female’ is an AD 10th–11th century image from Unnav in Uttar Pradesh. It is a rare instance of a nude female seated in meditation and despite its missing head can be identified as Malli through the lotus flower in its open palm, a reference to the figure’s superhuman character. See Pratapaditya Pal’s The Peaceful Liberators: Jain Art from India, London and California: Thames and Hudson and Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 1996, p. 139. 78 Jaini, Gender and Salvation, p. 141. Also see Laidlaw, Riches and Renunciation, Chapter 11.

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at the moment of attaining kevalgyan, the ordinary body is transformed into a pure gross body, which is not only able to sustain itself without the ordinary bodily functions, but also rids itself off all bodily fluids and discharges such as urine, blood and semen; Shvetambars on the other hand, deny any such transformation of the body. Meghavijaya’s formulation of menstrual blood as a volitional, libidinal discharge thus begins to make sense. Pressed to respond to the Digambar charge of a ‘menstruating Malli Bhagwati’, Meghavijaya conceived of an inextricable association between menstrual flow and libido which, as one proceeds along the various gunasthanas, recedes until finally, at the attainment of arhatship, ceases to exist. And with it, ceases too the menstrual flow.79 It may be added here that even Shvetambars depict Malli as being born a female as atonement for sins in the past birth!80 Negative views are by no means obsolete; rather they continue to inform the understanding of the relation between women and religious pursuits. Rajachandra, a prominent Jain male ascetic formulating his views on women wrote: All the substances that are contemptible — all of them have a residence in her body, and for them it is also the place of origin. In addition, the happiness derived therefrom is only momentary and a cause of exhaustion and repeated excitements.81

In exploring the relationship between Christianity and sexuality, Foucault had demonstrated how the technique of confession attempted to pin down the complicity between mind and body by wrenching out admissions of guilt with connection to one’s sexuality. The technique of confession was central to the mechanism of maintaining the power of religious institutions. An interesting parallel could be drawn between the Christian confession and pratikramana, a Jain ritual confession of transgressions. However, pratikramana lacks the relentless focus on sex as is to be found in the Christian confession. It remains firmly alert to the contraventions of the principle of ahimsa instead, according to 79

See Jaini, Gender and Salvation, p. 193. Mahabala and his six friends had made a pact to undertake fasts of identical lengths. Coveting to accrue greater merit than his companions, Mahabala continued his fast much after his friends had broken theirs. This amounted to violence and Mahabala was condemned to be born a woman in the subsequent birth. 81 Laidlaw, Riches and Renunciation, p. 237. 80

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Laidlaw. It is himsa, rather than the failings of the flesh, that constitutes the ‘magnetic pole’ of human frailty for Jains. Thus Laidlaw says that confessions about sex are not likely to reveal a secret sexual self as in Christianity but only a soul entangled in the web of karmas. This gives rise to the harsh regimen of discipline that is geared towards minimising karma-inducing actions and thoughts: Uncovering the soul does not require an interrogating search for an inner truth, but stilling the mind and body through discipline, so as to prevent the action which reproduces the soul’s embodiment.82

But surely Laidlaw can be held culpable for ignoring the extent to which himsa comes to be associated with the sheer physicality of the female. Violence, sexual desires, and women are corralled into a single zone; deliverance is difficult for women whose bodies constitute the locus of violence (and sexual desire) — the very antithesis of Jainism. Asceticism then comes to be defined as masculine and almost exclusively in terms of semen retention. Thus chastity requires the accumulation of semen within the body through rigorous self-control and training. In women, the sexual energies may be cooled through fast, i.e, abstinence from food, which also connote sexual purity and family honour. Leslie writes that it is not sexual orientation, the veda, but a woman’s biophysical character that evokes disgust and becomes a source of her spiritual incapacities. But we must take into account the fierceness of competition between the two sects to establish the legitimacy of their path of mendicancy and monastic practices. An attack on the possibility of women’s salvation, on account of their clothed existence, is foremost also a fusillade against the authority of Shvetambar mendicants as true ascetics. It would be better to regard the woman’s question as a site for contestation; and while one side may cite her sheer physicality as antithetical to a life of spirituality, the other side may dismiss it as of no consequence.83 It remains nonetheless that both sides share 82

Ibid., p. 258. In a different context of examining the portrayal of homosexuality in the Bible, Robin Scroggs proposes the parameters for how Biblical texts may be used to illumine debates over issues such as homosexuality etc. The parameters are: ‘1) do the work of exegesis to understand the meaning of Biblical statements in their historical and literary context; 2) compare the specific meaning of the texts with the major theological and ethical themes of the Bible; 3) determine whether the cultural context addressed in the text bears a reasonable 83

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the portrayal of women’s bodies as disgusting and hateful, the very repositories of himsa. The question remains: has Jainism spawned a culture that is sympathetic to the independent spiritual aspirations of women? Does it espouse models of womanhood that assist the entry of women into the ascetic fold? Or does it continue to regard them as hostile to the pursuit of renunciation by either upholding domesticity as the only valid path, or denigrating their capacity for a life of asceticism? Examination of the culturally coded roles ascribed to women yields a multiplicity of images: pious nuns, great mothers, and even a female tirthankara. All of these are glorified for their commitment to the Jain faith, indeed celebrated as ‘active militants of Jainism’.84 The triumph of their religiosity in the face of odds is memorialised in a variety of ways. This would suggest that a premium is attached to women’s self-focused religiosity and autonomous spiritual aspirations. At the same time, Jain popular stories, didactic tales as well as books of rules could create virulently misogynist cultural roles for women. If the sheer ubiquity of nuns in the religious and community life of Jains continuously presents a model of female religiosity that is strikingly in contrast to the Brahminical code of pativrata, counter representations are always at hand that erode the independent and self-focused religiosity of the former. The domestic ideal is never far from the surface; indeed for the large majority of lay Jain women, it is the ideal of a pious householder that is privileged. This privileging occurs through numerous discursive strategies — by honouring mothers of tirthankaras who inculcated Jain values in their sons and thus facilitated their entry into tirthankarhood; through the narratives and rituals around virtuous heroines such as Mayna Sundari; even through the gentle effacement of female ascetics from the monastic codebooks. It is to be noted that despite the fact that Jainism’s ideals of severe asceticism came be realised fully in a life of renunciation, lay religious lives are also marked by a great degree of austerities. The burden of upholding this austere Jain way of life falls invariably on the woman of the house. It is she who undertakes fasts, cooks according to the similarity to the modern context in which it is to be applied.’ Cited in Mark D. Smith, ‘Ancient Bisexuality and the Interpretation of Romans 1:26–27’, Journal of the American Academy of Religion, vol. 64, no. 2, 1996, p. 227. 84 Nalini Balbir, ‘Women in Jainism’, p. 83.

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rigorous dietary requirements, visits the temples and renouncers to pay obeisance. In the course of fieldwork, it was found that even nuns do not disparage the domestic ideal for laywomen, as reflected for instance, in the rueful assertion of a Shvetambar nun that Mayna Sundari was no longer heeded to as a model by Jain women of today.85 Jainism negotiated constantly between its legitimation of women as rightful soteriological agents and the impulse to masculinise the practice of renunciation itself. Thus on the one hand, it approved of asceticism as a valid option for women and on the other, implicated women as the very anti-thesis of this path. If we confine our analysis of the preponderance of nuns among Jains to the ideological realm alone — exploring the models of womanhood that the culture of Jainism constructs — we are likely to be confronted by a multiplicity of images pulling in different directions. And the problem of representations of women within Jainism and how this corresponds to the high number of female mendicants would remain just as muddled. In the subsequent chapters, we will investigate the structural causes that pull Jain women towards asceticism and sustain their women orders. A

85 Tapa Gacch sadhvi Sayamratna cited the example of a Jain woman in the locality where the sadhvis were staying who had re-married following the death of her first husband. Interviewed by author, Atmanand Jain Sabha, Roop Nagar, Delhi.

4 Te Making of a Sadhvi: Claims and Counterclaims The core question that struck me and with which this book engages is the unique numerical preponderance of female ascetics — known variously as sadhvi, mahasati and aryika — among Jains. The nuns dominate the religious life of the community by their sheer, striking visibility of numbers. The following figures indicate this: Table 4.1: Census of the Jain mendicant population

Shvetambars Murtipujaks Sthanakvasis Terapanthis Digambars

Monks

Nuns

Total

1474 536 147 415

5420 2638 538 350

6894 3174 685 765

2572

8946

11518

At any given time of chaturmas in a town, village or a city with some Jain population, nuns can be found dwelling in a temple/upashraya house of a prominent lay Jain. Clad in white garbs, their hair shorn, staff and begging bowl in hand (and sometimes not even that as in the case of the Digambars), they can be seen walking barefoot, usually in groups of three to four, making rounds for their daily gochari or to instruct the laity on matters of fasting and rituals. They make for a striking presence. In the following pages, I will seek answers to the conundrum: what is it that draws women in such large numbers — nuns outnumber monks by more than three to one — to join the renunciant orders? Is this a function of the Jain religion itself that makes it particularly amenable to female renunciation? Or is there a specific female, or rather feminine

88 A Escaping the World

experience of renunciation or a specific female/feminine cause which makes women more suited to a life of renunciation? Let us interrogate, through the data at hand, some of the commonsense assumptions about the causes of women’s renunciation.

Widows as Sadhvis Jainism, sharing the patriarchal norms of its neighbouring religions, denied widows the right to re-marry. The only ‘kalyana marga’ available to a widow was that of dharma.1 The most widely held belief is that women enter monastic life on the death of their husbands, that is, it is widows who commonly turn to mendicancy. By this logic, it could be assumed that the bulk of sadhvis would comprise of widows. It has been noted that the proportion of widows in the Jain population was unusually high.2 Analysing the distribution of Jain population according to the categories of civil condition, namely, unmarried, married and widowed, as provided in the earlier census reports, Vilas Sangave concludes that one out of every four Jain women was likely to be a widow. Table 4.2: The distribution of 1,000 of each sex of various communities according to their civil condition as per 1931 Census Community

Sex

Unmarried

Married

Widowed

India

M F M F M F M F M F

476 388 463 324 503 337 550 411 500 358

470 505 480 507 415 442 370 475 456 513

54 157 57 169 82 221 80 114 44 129

Hindu Jaina Sikh Muslim

1 Aryika Bahubali, herself ordained while unmarried, charged that ‘Men can always remarry, there are no restrictions on them; women can only marry once. There are only two places open for her: her parents before marriage and her husband, after marriage. But were something to go wrong after marriage, the only avenue open to her is that of religion, dharma. That is the only kalyana marga. It is not a woman’s duty to re-marry and establish samsara. Our Jain culture forbids this.’ Interviewed by author, Kunda Kunda Bharati, Delhi. 2 V. S. Sangave, Jaina Community: A Social Survey, Bombay: Popular Prakashan, 1980, pp. 27–30.

Te Making of a Sadhvi A 89

It could be plausibly argued that it was this higher number of widows that was reflected in the greater number of sadhvis among the Jains. It must be noted here that the distribution of various religious communities by civil condition were recorded only in the earliest census. Following 1941, census ceased to yield information on the marital status of the population. It would be fruitful nonetheless to compare the census figures of Jain widows with the contemporaneous proportion of widows among Jain nuns. In the absence of any credible compilation of the number of nuns and their marital status for the period around the 1940s, we are constrained to cite only the figures for the Terapanthi sect of Shvetambars, for whom such data is available. The Terapanthi sect is characterised by a centralising impulse and a marked lack of autonomy of smaller mendicant groups, which are at all times accountable and answerable to the central figure of the acharya. This also implies that it is much easier to know the precise number of female and male ascetics at a given time. Not only this, the sect has undertaken and concluded, rather successfully, the task of collating the biographical details of all its mendicant rank and file, with their familial backgrounds and religious careers, and the acharya under which they were initiated, in a 25-volume series called Shasana Samudra. The marital status of sadhvis of Terapanthi sect in the 1940s as recorded in the Shasana Samudra is given as follows: the total number of sadhvis was 86, of which 54 were unmarried, 17 were widowed, 10 had left their husbands and families behind to enter into a life of asceticism, while five had taken diksha along with their husbands.3 The figures therefore can be represented thus: Unmarried: 54 (62.7%) Widows: 17 (19.76%) Married, but left husband: 10 (11.62%) Married, took diksha with husband: 5 (5.81%)4

It should be borne in mind that the proportion of widows among Jains was as high as 221 per 1,000 females. In Rajasthan, where the Terapanthi sect has its roots and its strongest presence, the widows’ numbers were still higher: 247 per 1,000 females. However, the 3 Muni Navratnamal ji (ed.), Shasana Samudra, bhag 21, Delhi: Adarsh Sahitya Sangh Prakashan, 2001. 4 Jain, Samagra Jain Chaturmaas Suchi.

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percentage of widowed Terapanthi sadhvis (drawn largely from the Rajputana area) is lower than the percentage of widows in the total Jain population during the period. Interestingly, at 19.76 per cent, it stands only a notch higher than the percentage of married (but not widowed) women who constituted 17.43 per cent of the total Terapanthi sadhvis in the 1940s. Unmarried girls who had taken diksha comprised an overwhelming chunk of the Terapanthi sadhvi population.

Te Destitute Widow? Traditionally, widowhood did not render the Jain woman destitute or dependent upon her affinal kin. Customary practices recognised her right to inheritance, which was in striking contrast to the Hindu customary laws that excluded the widows from a share in the property of the family and husband. This Jain law was laid down in Bhadrabahu Samhita, a text recognised both by the Shvetambars and Digambars. Not only did the deceased’s widow inherit the dead man’s property, she also enjoyed absolute and final authority over its use and disposal. Early 20th century — especially the period prior to the 1937 Hindu Woman’s Right to Property Act — witnessed brisk litigation whereby the dead man’s relatives petitioned the court to be governed by the Hindu law of succession and inheritance so as to gain control over the property, while widows defended their right to exercise control over the deceased husband’s property. Reynell cites instances where the court’s ruling was in favour of the widow on grounds that Jains ‘are not governed by Hindu law in matters of adoption or the widows’ right to adopt, as also in matters of succession and inheritance’.5 It was seldom so simple though, and here we might benefit from examining some of the cases brought in the High Courts as recorded in All India Reporters. The litigation centred on the following issues: first, whether Jains would be governed by Hindu law in matters of adoption. The courts recognised that Jains completely disregard the shraddha ceremony and sacrifice so essential in the instance of Hindus thus rendering the matter of adoption a temporal or worldly rather than a religious issue. An important element of the cases I investigated was the issue of whether a sonless widow could adopt without the direction 5 Josephine Reynell, ‘Equality and Inequality’ in N. K. Singhi (ed.), Ideal, Ideology and Practice: Studies in Jainism, Jaipur: Printwell Publishers, 1987, p. 55.

Te Making of a Sadhvi A 91

or permission of her now deceased husband. Second, whether a Jain widow, in contrast to a Hindu widow, enjoyed greater rights as regards inheritance of her dead husband’s property. Here a distinction was often made between self-acquired property of the husband and the ancestral property as is made in the case of the Hindu law. Following from it, the third important question or point of contest was whether the widows enjoyed the right to alienate the property so inherited in favour of either individuals (usually adopted sons) or religious and charitable trusts, that is, if they could exercise an absolute interest in the estate. In the Sheokuabai vs Jeoraj case, the Privy Council ruled that ‘Jains so far have adopted the Hindu Law that the Hindu rules of adoption are applied to them in the absence of some contrary usage.’6 This became the touchstone for all judgments that followed it. Deviations from the Hindu law were allowed in the case of Jains, provided an ancient and invariable custom was established with ‘the burden of establishing its antiquity and invariability […] on the parties averring its existence’.7 Thus each case/suit became a sort of battleground to weld and prove the existence of a hoary tradition that offered better rights to Jain women in general and Jain widows in particular or to disprove the existence of such a tradition. This resulted in a great diversity in judgments. In 1878, in the cases Sheo Singh Rai vs Dakho, and Bhagvandas Tejmal vs Rajmal, the Privy Council ruled that the question whether ‘among the sect of the Jains known as Saraogi Agarwalas a sonless widow could adopt without permission from her husband or consent of his kinsmen and whether she could adopt the daughter’s son was one which had been rightly held to be proved by the evidence given in the case’.8 In the case of Prem Sagar vs Ram Gopal and others in 1929, the Court ruled that although a Jain widow, Mt. Gujri was not authorised to adopt a son in the absence of her husband’s authority because the plaintiff could not demonstrate the proof of custom.9 In 1932 however, the Judge held that ‘there are on the present record the following 12 instances, proved by oral evidence of respectable witnesses, of valid 6

Cited in Parshotam vs Venichand, All India Reporter, Bombay, 1921, pp. 147–48. Ibid., p. 150. 8 Ibid., p. 150. 9 Prem Sagar vs Ram Gopal and others, All India Reporter, Lahore, 1929, pp. 814–815. 7

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adoptions by Jain widows of Delhi, the adoption in each case having been made long after the death of the husband and without authority from him or consent of kinsmen. […] A number of leading members of the Jain brotherhood have appeared as witnesses and deposed to the above custom, the most important of whom is R. S. P. D. Ram Chand, who is the Secretary of the local Jain Digambar Society.’10 The court concluded ‘beyond doubt that among Jains of Delhi, Hindu law has been varied to this extent that for adopting a son to her deceased husband, a widow need not possess express or implied authority from him, nor is the consent of the kinsmen necessary for the purpose.’11 The main purpose of citing these litigations — and many more cases can be quoted — is to simply highlight the difficulty of casting Jain widows in the mould of an impoverished and helpless woman, with nowhere to turn to except the monastic order. Josephine Reynell suspects that the enshrinement of women’s right to inherit in the Jain legal tradition may arise less from a commitment to gender equality, and more from the religious establishment’s instinct for selfpreservation and perpetuation. She says that it was likely that many childless widows donated their inheritance to religious institutions, especially the mathas, as an act of dana or charity.12 The case of sadhvi sri Ratna ji presents an example that encapsulates many of the complexities of the gendered nature of renunciation and the anxieties of the dead husband’s family about the potential loss of property. Born in Churu to an Oswal family, Ratna was married when she turned 13, and widowed within a year of marriage. Her biographical note in Shasana Samudra records that she developed vairagya on being forced to wear the widow’s customary clothes of black and ochre on the eleventh day of her husband’s death. Her dead husband’s family was opposed to her diksha till she agreed to write off all her inheritance to the family. However, fearing that she would be denied permission even after the loss of her property, she filed a legal suit against her 10

Sundar Lal vs Baldeo Singh and others, All India Reporter, Lahore, 1932, p. 426. This suggests that the practice of sonless widows adopting sons without the permission of their kinsmen was common to both Digambars and Shvetambars. 11 Ibid. 12 See Reynell, ‘Equality and Inequality’, p. 55.

Te Making of a Sadhvi A 93

marital family. It was at the intervention of a prominent Jain layman of the town, Srichand Kothari, that the family finally acquiesced. Ratna named Kothari the trustee of her property before she took diksha.13 Whether dispensing their property to religious institutions, or as vigorous defendants of their right to inherit and adopt, the Jain widow comes across as an active agent exercising considerable autonomy in matters of her estate. And surely, even if widows turned to institutionalised asceticism as a life option, we will need to place ‘agency’ at the centre of our understanding of their decisions. Turning now to contemporary figures, according to the data collected during my fieldwork, the civil status of sadhvis at the time of diksha was following: Total sadhvis interviewed: 65 Unmarried: 61 Married (left husband and family): 1 Widowed: 3

Clearly, an overwhelming number of sadhvis received ordination in unmarried state. If figures for widows from my fieldwork (4.5 per cent) are compared to the statistics of widows receiving ordination in the Jain ascetic orders six decades ago (17 per cent), it appears that the numbers of widowed sadhvis is falling even further in contemporary times. If Jain sadhvi orders are not populated by widows — child women abandoned or forced by natal and marital kin to leave their homes — who are these women who renounce their families and homes to embrace a lifetime of asceticism?

Te Push of Poverty Another notion that holds sway is that poor families, unable to bear the burden of girls’ marriage and dowries prefer that their daughters take diksha. There are two issues at the heart of such an argument: first, that girls who take diksha normally hail from the lower strata of Jain society; and second, that parents, willy-nilly nudge their daughters towards the mendicant path. It is true that as a community, Jains show a clear son-preference. It has the worst sex ratio in the country, 13

Shasana Samudra, bhag 22, p. 18.

94 A Escaping the World

heavily skewed against the girl child.14 This does suggest that there is a devaluing of the girl child. Parents, said a senior functionary of Anuvrat Bhawan,15 were not averse to allowing at least one or two of their daughters to take diksha, if they so wished. Several respondents suggested that the spiralling costs of weddings and dowries rendered parents favourable to their daughter taking ordination, thus saving them the costs of her wedding. While there may be some truth in such an assertion, my own fieldwork does not sustain this line of contention. A large number of sadhvis interviewed belonged to families that could be described not merely as well to do or comfortable, but downright prosperous. Jewellery and cloth merchants, owners of factories that produced from umbrellas to ice, landed agriculturalists, retail shop owners etc., were some of the commonly cited family occupations at the time of their diksha. In order to further corroborate this, I also collected data about the current occupations of brothers, nephews etc. and also tried as far as possible to gain information about the educational backgrounds of the extended families of sadhvis. It only reiterated that these women had not attempted an escape from destitution and poverty (see Table 4.3).

Te Nuns Speak Back It would perhaps be best to be not further detained by these speculations and theories and instead turn our attention to the voices of the sadhvis themselves in order to understand the motivations and intentions that spur them on to embrace a sadhvi’s life. The nuns are all too familiar with the beliefs and assumptions about their initiation into a life of mendicancy. They are vociferous in denouncing the suggestion that they have been forced into nunnery due to personal tragedies. Rare was a nun I encountered who said that she had turned to nunnery to escape unhappy personal circumstances. ‘There are so many in this world who are suffering and are miserable — do they all take diksha?’, was a response I countenanced several times when I tried to probe if personal problems could be the reason behind their decision to renounce. Sadhvi Dr Manju sri, with whom I spent 14 The 2001 Census shows that at an All India level the sex ratio in 0–6 age group is 870 and in major states with large Jain population, the 0–6 age group sex ratio is low, for instance 832 in Gujarat and 878 in Rajasthan. 15 Delhi head quarters of the Terapanthi sect.

Te Making of a Sadhvi A 95 Table 4.3: S. No.

Occupational backgrounds of sadhvis’ wordly families

Sectarian affliation and name

Occupational background of the samsaric family

Murtipujaks I(a) 1. 2. 3. I(b) 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. I(c) 1. 2. 3. I(d) 1. 2. 3. II(a) 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. II(b) 1. 2. II(c) 1. 2. 3. 4. 5

Khartar Gacch (Delhi) Sadhvi Shwetanjan sri Jewellery business Sadhvi Lakshapurna sri General merchant Sadhvi ji Cloth merchant Khartar Gacch (Moti Dungri, Jaipur) Sadhvi Chandraprabha sri Cloth and jewellery business Sadhvi Chinmaya sri Business Sadhvi’s name not given The financial situation was not good after her father expired; brother now runs a business Sadhvi Kusumpragnya sri Jewellery business Sadhvi Chandanbali sri Business Sadhvi Nirmal sri Transport business Khartar Gacch (Jain Mandir, Jaipur) Sadhvi Dr Surekha sri Saree business Sadhvi Prashamrasa sri Merchant Sadhvi Hemrekha sri Transport business Khartar Gacch (Aradhna Bhawan, Jaipur) Sadhvi Niranjana sri Service in a private firm Sadhvi Kavyaprabha sri Accounts manager in a private firm Sadhvi Divyaguna sri Accounts manager in a private firm (sisters) Tapa Gacch (Roop Nagar, Delhi) Sadhvi Srutadarshita sri Electrical shop in Bikaner and a hosiery shop in Sadar Bazar, Delhi Sadhvi Sayamratna sri Agriculturalist, landed family Sadhvi Sumangala sri Trader Sadhvi Prafullprabha sri Saree and jewellery business Sadhvi Kusumprabha sri Saree and jewellery business Sadhvi Vairagyapurna sri Saree and jewellery business (all sisters) Sadhvi Amritprabha sri Shop keeper Sadhvi Poornanadita sri Grocery shop Tapa Gacch (Gujarat Apartments, Rohini, Delhi) Sadhvi Sumati sri Watch and clock shop Sadhvi Suvriti sri General provision store Tapa Gacch (Ghee walon ka Rasta, Jaipur) Sadhvi Dinmani sri Unclear Sadhvi Divyaratna sri Small provision store which closed down following father’s death Sadhvi Divyapratima sri Small provision store which closed down following father’s death (sisters) Sadhvi Divyarekha sri Father worked in a cloth mill Sadhvi Divyachetna sri Shop Sthanakvasis

III(a) Sthanakvasi (Jain Vir Nagar Colony, Delhi) 1. Sadhvi Kesar devi sri Agriculturalist 2. Sadhvi Kaushalya devi sri Landlord and shops (Table 4.3 Continued)

96 A Escaping the World (Table 4.3 Continued) S. No.

Sectarian affliation and name

Occupational background of the samsaric family

3.

Sadhvi Dr Manju sri

4.

Sadhvi Malli sri

5.

Sadhvi Akshay sri

General stores and jewellery box-making workshop Father storekeeper in Bajaj Tempo factory; mother self employed, supplying packed food to factory canteens Father storekeeper in Bajaj Tempo factory; mother self employed, supplying packed food to factory canteens (sisters) General merchant Government service Stationary shop Typing school Unclear

6. 7. 8. 9. 10. III(b) 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. III(c) 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. III(d) 1.

Sadhvi Pragati sri Sadhvi Karuna sri Sadhvi Niti sri Sadhvi Bharati sri Sadhvi Sambodhi sri Sthanakvasi (Veeraytan, Bihar) Acharya Chandana Business Sadhvi Shubham sri Doctor Sadhvi Shilapi sri Business Ranjana Officer in a tea company Lakshmi Own factory in Bangalore Jyoti Unclear Sthanakvasi (Jain Girls’ School, Gurgaon) Sadhvi Kusumlata sri Provisional store Sadhvi Subhasha sri General merchant Sadhvi Pushpanjali sri Hardware shop Sadhvi Geetanjali sri Cloth merchant Sadhvi Pramila sri Business Arhat Sangh Acharya Dr Sadhna Business Digambars

IV(a) 1. IV(b) 1. IV(c) 1. 2. 3.

Digambar Jain Mandir (Gurgaon) Aryika Jinadevi mata ji Agriculturalist Kund Kunda Bharati (Delhi) Aryika Bahubali mata ji Agriculturalist Digambar Jain Mandir (Agra) Savita Jewellery and cloth business Anita Jewellery and cloth business (sisters) Manjula Provisional store

V(a) 1. 2. 3. 4. V(b) 1. 2. 3. 4.

Milap Bhawan (Jaipur) Ramkumar Sundar sri Vinay prabha sri Atmaprabha sri Suvidhiprabha sri Surana House (Jaipur) Kankumari sri Mankamal sri Rajmati sri Swastiprabha sri

Terapanthi sect Business Cloth loom Cloth loom (sisters) Cloth trader Business Business (sisters) Umbrella manufacturing factory Agency of medical instruments

Te Making of a Sadhvi A 97

considerable time in north Delhi, is especially articulate in dismissing my apprehensions about why women take sanyasa: My vairagya was induced by quest for knowledge and not pain. So it can be both pain as well a desire for knowledge [that leads to renunciation]. Although people assume that there must have been tragedies or miseries at home for us to renounce. So to these people I say, ‘everybody is unhappy, why doesn’t everybody take diksha then?’ There are so many girls who are not able to get married. Do they ever desire to take diksha? There are so many women who have been given divorce — do they take diksha? There are so many men who have no employment but do they become sadhus?16

We may note here that familial approval is mandatory prior to any diksha. Unless such an approval is secured and communicated to the guru under whom the girl is desirous of taking diksha, it is impossible for a girl to be ordained. Sadhvis often articulated their agency through vivid accounts of the hardships they underwent in order to accomplish parental permission. The accounts of nuns include among others, facing torture,17 running away from home in face of familial opposition,18 being sent away to another town in order to keep the girl away from ascetics,19 and undertaking fasts and renouncing luxuries available at home.20 Bharati sri offers a particularly vivid account of her struggle at home to secure permission for diksha: 16 Dr Manju sri is a widely revered Sthanakvasi sadhvi, known and respected equally for her knowledge and her radical views. This has earned her the title, Krantijyot (the flame of revolution). Interviewed by author, Lawrence Road Sthanak, Delhi. 17 An extreme case is that of Sadhvi Surajkanwar ji’s whose biographical note in the Shasana Samudra records the 5-year-old Suraj’s grandfather stuffing her mouth with red chillies to deter her from even thinking of diksha. Dr Manju Sri’s mother threw a rolling pin at her when she announced her wish to take diksha. 18 Sthanakvasi sadhvi Kaushalya sri developed vairagya at the age of 14. Her family was firmly opposed to her taking diksha. Fearing that the girl might take to the ascetic path, her family arranged her wedding on the sly without her knowledge. She wrote a letter to her parents, ‘I do not want to be bound in the bonds of marriage so I am going away to my guru to pursue the path of liberation.’ She took the night train to Jallandhar where Kesar maharaj ji was residing. 19 Bharati sri, who lived in Baraut (western Uttar Pradesh) was packed off to her uncle’s house in Bikaner (Rajasthan). 20 Bharati sri started mimicking an ascetic’s life at home. She would not eat the food cooked at home, would fast for extended periods, and sleep on the floor and so on in order to demonstrate her resolve.

98 A Escaping the World [When I was 8–9-years-old] Kesar maharaj ji had chaumasa in our place [Baraut, Uttar Pradesh]. I wanted to go away with maharaj ji. I had memorised 2,000 dohas and bhajans, etc. When maharaj ji was about to leave, I told my parents about my wish but they turned it down saying I was too young to take such a decision. Nonetheless I walked with maharaj ji for about 4–5 kilometres and had to be brought back forcefully. I did not give up. I secretly started to live like a renouncer. I would sleep on the floor and would not eat my tiffin. When I turned 18, maharaj ji again visited Baraut for a chaumasa. I again sought permission from my parents and they refused again. Fearing that I would leave with her, they sent me to Nainital but I fell ill and had to be brought back. They did not allow me to meet maharaj ji after my return. I was then sent to Bikaner to my relatives’ place. The people there were the fun loving kind and my parents thought that I would be cured of my calling. But it had no effect on me. Then they sent me to my maternal uncle’s who was an agnostic. Once he scolded a sadhvi who had come to ask for gochari for misleading young girls into renunciation. During those 4–6 months I had to steal to the sthanak by lying. But my uncle came to know this, and forbade me to go out of the house after that. I was sent back to Baraut. Around that time I got a letter from my friend in Bombay that maharaj ji had reached there for her chaumasa. I was 22 by now. My parents were starting to receive marriage proposals for me and my sister, who was two years younger. There would be a lot of tension in the house (because of my refusal to marry). An uncle of mine finally convinced my parents. I immediately wrote to Bombay asking for somebody to come and fetch me since my parents were refusing to see me off for my diksha. But finally when maharaj ji also wrote to them, they agreed to attend my diksha.21

Other sadhvis noted that while they were able to surmount the resistance from their family to ultimately achieve diksha, there were many others who either acquiesced under familial pressure or lost the courage to endure a lifetime of hardships that the ascetic path enjoins.22 The memories of the initial days of their ascetic careers while illustrating sadhvis’ complete faith in their choice to renounce and their own agency in achieving this end, also serve another function. They also defuse the allegation of parental pressure in determining the course 21

Bharati sri, interviewed by author, Jain Vir Nagar Colony, Delhi. Sallu maharaj, for instance, told me that her sister had initially expressed a desire to take diksha but then said, ‘You lead such a hard life, it is not possible for me to follow this. I cannot bear all this suffering.’ Another said how her parents absolutely refused to grant permission to their second daughter, her younger sister, to take diksha and married her off. Dr Manju sri’s younger brother also gave in to his family’s entreaties and gave up the resolve. 22

Te Making of a Sadhvi A 99

of their life towards asceticism. For these are not only romanticised accounts, they are also highly idealised accounts. They conform to the social normative expectations of parental duties. Families are normatively expected to raise their daughters as pious Jains, but are also expected to arrange their marriage. To raise no objection to their daughter’s decision to renounce the samsara would thus expose them to the charge of neglecting their duties and the insinuation that they were unable or even unwilling to provide for their marriage expenses.23

Spiritual Pursuits The insinuation that personal problems and poverty lead to renunciation, sadhvis felt, was belittling their spiritual pursuits. The nuns instead suggested that the real reasons for renunciation were to be found on a loftier, spiritual plane. And surely, each of the nuns I interviewed initially placed their renunciation within the grid of Jain theory of bondage and liberation. Sadhvi Suvriti sri said that she had taken the path of samyama (restraint or renunciation) to scratch out karma from her soul. Further, she gave an interesting comparison: ‘just like soap is used to clean a dirty cloth, so too we take samyama to cleanse the soul entangled in karma.’ For her, it is akin to a ‘battle with the karmas. Only through a lifetime of samyama, can you vanquish the karmas.’24 Sadhvi Shrutadarshita discovered her true calling on reading the Jain sutras. The sutras explained to her the cycle of birth and death and she realised the ephemeral nature of the world. Upon realising that each and every individual is essentially alone and will have to bear his/her pain alone, she developed a disinterest towards the samsara (vairagya aa gaya). She thought that the best path available to her in this selfish and self-centred world was to devote oneself to the uplift of one’s soul. ‘Thinking thus I immersed myself in studying about the religion and lost all interest in the world.’25 23 In fact, in cases of girls whose families did encourage them to take diksha, it turned out that frequently it was in fulfilment of some vows. For example, when a girl fell so critically ill that there appeared little chance of her surviving, her parents pledged her to a life of asceticism if she survived; or else they resolved that they would offer no resistance if the girl wished to become a nun later in life. 24 She belongs to the Tapa Gacch sect. The interview was conducted at a flat in Rohini, Delhi, which was functioning as a makeshift residence for the group. 25 Tapa Gacch. Interviewed by author, Atmanand Jain Sabha, Roop Nagar, Delhi.

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Sadhvi Kaushalya sri is equally grandiose in the description of her vairagya. She likens her gradual inclination towards a life of religion to the planting of a seed. During four years of her sadhana, she says, the seed bore fruit and she realised that the only truth was her soul, and not the samsara.26 Thus convinced, she undertook diksha. For sadhvi Rajmati sri, who grew up in Siliguri with very little contact with Jain mendicants and their teachings, vairagya was automatically and spontaneously aroused. ‘It was the influence of some past birth.’27

Revulsion from the Samsara I often saw nuns preparing and displaying posters for the laity who visited them in their upashrayas. These posters demonstrate in lurid detail the interminable cycle of bondage that the soul is trapped in, and the terrifying prospect of being reborn as, among other possibilities, a lowly insect, or worse, as a creature in hell. There are images of fiery hells, horrific demons and outlandish creatures. The primary audience of these posters is women who stream in to the upashrayas or ashramas constantly to see and seek blessings from the nuns. These graphic illustrations, accompanied by a nun’s commentary, are likely to instil a fear of the samsara. The person of the nun simultaneously offers an escape route from this cycle through a lifetime of renunciation. The nuns’ narratives frequently identify a particular moment in their lives when disillusionment and revulsion towards the world strikes them. Verily, these are moments when they witnessed death — of a close relative, friend, or even a stranger. The occurrence of death foregrounds the Jain conception of the perpetual cycle of bondage. It invigorates and invests a certain poignancy to the images of rebirth in hells. Bharati sri was 8-years-old when she saw people carrying a dead body on a bier to the cremation grounds. Intrigued and too young to comprehend death, she asked her mother about it. When she learnt that the dead body was to be burned, she was overcome with dread that she too would be burnt. This set her on the mission to seek escape from ‘this process of life and fire’.28 At the same time, Kesar maharaj came to her hometown, Baraut, for her chaturmas. Kesar maharaj showed 26

Sthanakvasi. Interviewed by author, Jain Vir Nagar Colony, Delhi. Terapanthi sect. Interviewed by author, Jaipur. 28 Bharati sri, interviewed by author, Jain Vir Nagar Colony, Delhi. 27

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the little girl sketches of hell and the dukha one had to endure there. Petrified by the images of demons, the young girl became determined to escape from sins and ultimately, rebirth.29 The leitmotif of death is a recurring one. Sadhvi Ratankanwar ji (Sardarshehar) was witness at a very young age to six deaths in her close family within a short period of six months. This led her to mull over the ephemeral nature of human existence and she was ‘naturally attracted’ towards religion. Vairagya was aroused after listening to sadhus and sadhvis. She was only 12 then. She finally took diksha at age 15.30 Sadhvi Chanda ji (Tadgarh) was only 10-months-old when her mother passed away. Her grandmother, who also passed away when she was just 3-years-old, brought her up. This was followed by the deaths of her brother and her newborn nephew. This left the young girl heartbroken. Soon she came into contact with sadhvi Sri Panna ji. Her biographical note records that it was the influence of Sri Panna ji, through whom she learnt about the unpredictable nature of the world, that Chand Kumari (her samsaric name) became convinced of mendicancy as the only way to escape this cycle of birth and death. She began to learn tattvika-gyan from ascetics and vowed to take diksha.31 Similarly, sadhvi Sri Malu ji (Shri Dungargarh) was barely seven when her father expired. The death and the mourning and wailing that followed it moved the girl. She asked her family: ‘Is there such a place that is untouched by this sorrow?’ They replied, ‘Mendicant life is the only one where one experiences no sorrows but only great happiness’ [emphasis added].32 Hearing this, the little girl resolved to take diksha and began to learn tattvika-gyan. Her mother, Mata Keshar ji was also firm in her desire to renounce. Both mother and daughter took diksha together. The instances of violence, death and illness or the nuns’ memories of such events are not so important in themselves; their functionality resides mainly in instilling a deep revulsion towards the samsara. Phyllis Granoff attributes the same function to a genre of popular Jain stories, which she calls ‘renunciation-inspiring stories’. These stories emphasise the frailties of human ties, transience of relationships and 29

Sthanakvasi sect. Interviewed by author, Jain Vir Nagar Colony, Delhi. Terapanthi sect. From Shasana Samudra by Muni Navratanmal, bhaga 22, pp. 74–5. 31 Terapanthi sect. See Shasana Samudra, bhaga 22. pp. 162–64. 32 Shasana Samudra, bhaga 20, p. 200. 30

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how safety lies in renunciation alone. This safety is of the soul rather than of the flesh. Granoff writes: This genre of story relies on shocking us to make its point; these are accounts of murder, incest, and cannibalism, but they are meant to show us how all our relationships can and do have this dark underside. The only way to be safe is to renounce human ties and seek salvation as a monk or nun.33

Interestingly, I came across instances in the Shasana Samudra, though none of the nuns I met expressed such a feeling, where witnessing the process of birth serves much the same purpose, that is, evoking a sudden realisation of the illusory nature of this world and the relations therein. Sadhvi Pankanwar ji was inspired to take diksha after witnessing the ‘horrible scene’ of her niece’s birth.34 Again, a young girl, Mohna, was moved to take diksha when a senior sadhvi, Chotanji, once pointed out a pregnant woman to her. She warned Mohna that she would also become like the pregnant woman if she stayed in the grihasthavas.35 Thus repugnance towards pregnancy could also, on some occasions at least, become a source of revulsion towards the samsara, leading ultimately to renunciation. (Recall how Jambu’s renunciation-inspiring story of Lalitanga in the previous chapter is also cast in deep gynaecological terms).

Deciphering a Pattern Even as the reasons for renouncing may be couched in a spiritual mode, when I compiled the data on the nuns interviewed as well as the biographical notes culled from Shasana Samudra and elsewhere, I realised that a pattern is not hard to discern. There are some factors that recur consistently. Now I discuss some of those.

Pious Families A sadhvi or a candidate sadhvi more often than not hails from a family of great religious piety, one which scrupulously observes Jain rituals and practices such as fasting, praying, donating, visiting renouncers during chaturmas, etc. Many families take gurudharana, which involves 33 Phyllis Granoff, ‘Jain Stories Inspiring Renunciation’, in D. S. Lopez, Jr (ed.), Religions of India in Practice, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1995, pp. 412–17. 34 Shasana Samudra, bhaga 21, p. 11. 35 Shasana Samudra, bhaga 20, p. 275.

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a lifelong dedication to a guru; daily recitation of a secret mantra provided by the guru, and even regularly undertaking travels for darshana of the guru wherever he/she may be residing. Young children of the family, especially girls, may be sent to the guru for extended periods to serve them and to receive religious instruction from them. Quite obviously, this provides an overall atmosphere conducive to the undertaking of diksha. Surekha sri for instance attributes the lack of resistance from her family when she announced her desire to take diksha to the ‘religious atmosphere at home’. She told me that ‘Everybody at home was inclined towards religion […] everybody used to fast […] dadaji, mummy, papa […] everybody.”36 The case of sadhvi Ganesha ji’s (later called sadhvi Vinay sri) is also notable. She undertook her first fast as a mere toddler. It was with her mother’s milk that she did the prana (the ritual breaking of fast). The atmosphere at home and constant contact with ascetics propelled her towards the path of vairagya.37 So intense was the family’s religiosity that two of Ganesha’s elder sisters had already taken initiation in the Terapanthi order. This brings us to the second identifiable pattern: the prevalence of siblings (especially sisters) and other relatives in monastic orders.

Kin Networks If there is a single feature that stands out in the biographies of nuns, it is the continuities between the samsaric (worldly) and spiritual families. Out of a total number of 65 sadhvis studied, 36 (more than 50 per cent) had one or another relative — whether sister, aunt, mother, grandmother, grand aunt, cousin, brother, uncle, father and so on — who had taken diksha prior, along with or after her. Many times, these relatives were decisive in their choices about renunciation. The data forces us to recognise the centrality of family and kin networks in the recruitment of girls and women into mendicant orders. These networks are the most ready suppliers of renouncers, with some families providing mendicants across generations and some none. There have been an astounding 17 dikshas in the family of Kankumari ji 36 37

Khartar Gacch sect. Interviewed by author, Jaipur. Shasana Samudra, bhaga 22, p. 120.

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of Terapanthi sect, whom I met in Jaipur at Surana House. One of her sisters, Mankanwal ji, was also in the same group residing at Surana House. The Tapa Gacch group I met at Atmanand Jain Sabha at Roop Nagar, Delhi, also seemed to be teeming with relatives, close and distant. Prafullprabha, Vairagyapurna and Kusumprabha were sisters; the leader of the group, sadhvi Sumangla ji maharaj was their aunt (mother’s sister) and Poornanandita (or Sallu maharaj, as she was fondly called by everybody after her samsaric name) was their distant niece. And this is not the exclusive facet of any one sect, but is to be found across all sects and divisions. One of the most striking examples is that of sadhvi Dinmani sri of Tapa Gacch whom I met in Jaipur. ‘My diksha was a gift from my father’, she beams. Her father, she tells me was inspired by his guru, ‘Ramachandra sri ji maharaj sahib’, and ‘in turn he influenced the course of all our lives.’ Emphasising the strength of her father’s spiritual resolve, Dinmani said: ‘My father simply had to take diksha and he had to give us diksha.’ She was barely 3-years-old when the first diksha in her family took place — that of her elder brother. Her mother passed away when Dinmani was only 11-years-old, with her ‘fervent wish to take diksha unfulfilled’. This was followed by the twin dikshas of Dinmani ji and her sister (now dead). A few years later, her father and her brother also took diksha, thus terminating the samsaric family. Dinmani ji now has 18 disciples, of which three are sisters. As we sit talking, Dinmani ji holds up a bright and glossy poster which announces that an extended family in Gujarat is due to take diksha en masse — a young boy, barely 10-years-old, his parents, aunts and uncles, all were to leave behind their lives as they had known it till that moment and plunge into another. The diksha ceremony would be the last time they would come together as a family. Lest I think that it is an irrecoverable financial quagmire that drives the family to abandon the world, she says, ‘it is a family of gem traders, and yet they gave up everything.’ Certainly the poster shows the family atop a bedecked elephant. Months later I am reminded of this family as I read Suketu Mehta’s magnum opus on the city of Mumbai, Maximum City, where he describes his meeting with a wealthy family of unusually devout and austere Jains who were preparing to take diksha together.

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Te Overlap between Samsaric Families and Spiritual Families Even though the samsaric family formally comes to an end in the event of all members taking initiation, or is truncated when only some of its members enter mendicant orders, the rupture is never complete in reality. First, many sadhvis continue to return to their native towns or villages, not as daughters but as feted ascetics stopping over during a long travel or to spend the four-month sojourn of chaturmas. In this way they exercise a great deal of influence and command respect among their own family members and even neighbours. To younger relatives, they become role models, their lives worthy of emulation. Two Digambar brahmacharinis I met in Agra explicitly linked their desire to renounce to their sister’s life of asceticism (in their own words, ‘all three sisters are in the same line’).38 Though younger than the two brahmacharinis I met, their sister had taken diksha many years prior to their own, and was now a full-fledged aryika (a grade higher than that of brahmacharini).39 ‘Mataji’ had once renounced food (ahara ka prana) for a whole month as many ascetics are wont to from time to time in fulfilment of their ascetic duties. The aryika had vowed to end her fast only at the hands of a couple that had undertaken at least two pratimas (again, ascetics may impose severe restrictions on themselves in terms of accepting food from laypeople). It is also not uncommon for samsaric families to visit their daughters when they undertake especially arduous fasts and other vows. Present at the site of their sister’s fasting, the two girls were affected by their sister’s religiosity and impressed by the strength of her resolve to abstain from food for a full month. Mataji’s vow galvanised the girls into persuading their parents to undertake the pratimas to enable their sister to break her fast. They told me: Our force also aroused my parents’ bhavana and they undertook the pratimas […] We went with Mataji to celebrate her successful completion of the fast. It was at this time that we also experienced vairagya and our bhavanas were strengthened and decided to come to this path.40

38

Savita and Anita, interviewed by author, Agra. See Chapter II for more on this. 40 Savita and Anita, interviewed by author, Agra. 39

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Girls also frequently visit and spend many months at the upashrayas and ashramas where a female relative who has taken sanyasa may be residing. During my fieldwork, I encountered sisters of several nuns who were living with the group of sadhvis to which their sister belonged. Their time was spent reading, receiving at least a modicum of instruction in Jain religious philosophy and helping nuns organise teaching classes, accompanying them on visits to the homes of shravaks, and running errands for them. This achieves a sense of integration with the community of nuns, a familiarity with their lives and also a heightened sense of the deference and admiration nuns command from the lay community. Singly, or in conjugation, these factors sometimes become the source of their inclination towards renunciation. The nuns too are not unaware of the potential inherent in these girls. For instance, Asha, in her early 20s, visits her sister Mamta maharaj (Shrutadarshita) every summer.41 Though her intimate and regular contact with nuns did not move her enough to think of renunciation, other nuns of the group half-joked and half-asserted that Asha would ultimately join them as a sadhvi.42 Regardless of whether Asha finally undertakes the vows of mendicancy or not, it should surely be noted that there is a greater likelihood of girls whose close relatives have already taken diksha to themselves opt for a life of renunciation, over those whose kin have not. In another instance, sadhvis may feel a legitimate right over their younger female relatives and may ask for their nieces or other female relatives as virtual gifts from their families. I reproduce two narratives, which are fairly identical in delineating how the two sadhvis came to their calling through the active intervention of ascetics who were related to them. Sadhvi Prafullprabha of the Tapa Gacch is Sumangala ji’s niece, and is in turn the aunt of Poornanandita (Sallu maharaj). Prafullprabha’s account ran thus: Once our family had gone to visit Sumangala ji and my parents asked her what she would like to be gifted. She replied that she did not need anything. 41 Another sister has also taken diksha though she was stationed elsewhere during the period I was conducting my fieldwork at the Atmanand Jain Sabha, Roop Nagar, Delhi. 42 ‘When I’m here with the maharaj sahibs’ she told me, ‘I like it well enough, but after a while I feel restless and yearn to return to my life. And once I’m back there, I am pretty certain that I do not want to live the life of a renouncer.’ With her hair permed in the latest fad, her penchant for bright clothes, dazzling faux jewellery and glossy nail paint; she does not look the picture of a sadhvi-in-waiting. The nuns’ confidence is telling nonetheless.

Te Making of a Sadhvi A 107 ‘You have seven daughters, give me one’, she said. My parents asked my sisters if they would like to stay with her but none agreed. They turned to me and I readily agreed. So they left me with her. I was 6-years-old at that time. I never felt like going home after that.43

Sallu maharaj’s story echoes this: Maharaj ji had come home one day during the chaumasa. My parents asked her what they should present her (for food, etc.) She said, ‘I don’t want anything. You have four daughters — just give me one.’ Since I was the eldest, maharaj ji brought me with her.44

Her parents only added the caveat that Sallu would have to be returned to them if she wished to marry on reaching the appropriate age, ‘otherwise she belongs to you.’ Here, the spiritual lineage approximates the samsaric lineage closely (see Figure 4.1). Indeed, if one were to map out the familial ties of the ascetics of even one group, it would emerge as a web with lines intricately crisscrossing. There are sisters and cousins of course; aunts and nieces are not uncommon either — but there are also instances of mother and son45, mother and daughter 46, and even grandfather and granddaughter taking diksha together.47

43

Interviewed by author, Roop Nagar, Delhi. Interviewed by author, Roop Nagar, Delhi. 45 Pramilla sri ji and her son of the Sthanakvasi sect. Interviewed by author, Jain School, Gurgaon. 46 Born Chand Rani in Gujranwala (now in Pakistan), Yashwant sri maharaj ji was merely 3-years-old when her father died. Her widowed mother was inclined towards religion and resolved to take diksha. Baby Chand refused to part from her mother and insisted on going away with her. The family granted mother and daughter the permission to take diksha. They travelled with various sadhvi groups for a few years and were finally initiated in Palitana, Gujarat, around the time Chand turned 9. When the young Chand was asked why she wanted to take diksha, she said: mein sati banungi. Meri maa bhi ban rahi hai na. (I want to become a sati [sadhvi] for my mother is also becoming one.” Her mother was initiated as a disciple of Hat sri ji and christened Anand sri ji and Chand became her mother’s disciple and was called, Yashwant sri ji. A brief life sketch of Yahswant sri ji maharaj appears in Yahsasvi Priyadarshi Sitare by Sadhvi Harshpriya sri, Ludhiana: Atmanand Jain Sabha, 2001. I borrowed a copy from Prafullprabha shri ji at Atamanand Jain Sabha Roop Nagar, Delhi. 47 A 19-year-old girl took diksha along with her paternal grandfather. This family has provided over 13 sadhus and sadhvis to the Terapanthi ascetic orders. Shasana Samudra, bhaga 25, p. 139. 44

108 A Escaping the World Figure 4.1: Worldly and spiritual lineage of Sumangla ji (Sthanakvasi Jain)

Meeting the Spiritual Mentor On the other hand, there are many sadhvis who told me that their families were not particularly religious but it was an occasional encounter with a sadhvi during a chaturmas that prompted the stirrings of renunciation within her. ‘I had the good fortune to listen to maharaj ji during the chaumasa and vairagya was aroused’ is such an oft-repeated statement that we may safely jettison citations here. There is a view not uncommon among the laity that sadhvis are constantly looking to for swelling the ranks of their disciples, i.e., they have a proactive policy as it were on matters of recruitment. A laywoman who had come to the Lawrence Road Sthanak for Dr Manju sri’s darshana told me that sadhvis mark out young girls who are regular visitors to temples/upashrayas/sthanaks and whom they feel might have the makings of a future sadhvi. Then they ‘work’ on them, indoctrinate them and persuade them to take diksha. Another layperson also stressed this aspect — the luring of young girls by sadhvis — as an important reason for their greater numbers.48 The nuns themselves refute such a claim and put forth the inspirational encounter with a particular sadhvi as a life-transforming 48 Telephonic interview with the editor of Ahimsa Voice, a Jain magazine published from Delhi.

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experience. Interestingly, Akshay sri told me that she too shared the common misconceptions about sadhvis — especially their predatory recruiting mechanism — till she met Dr Manju sri, her guru.49 Though her family received many messages from several sadhvis after her decision to remain a spinster became public knowledge, it was not till she met Manju sri that she could take a decision to renounce the world to become an ascetic. Indeed many sadhvis stressed the importance of compatibility between the guru and shishyaa. This is recognised not only at the personal level, but also reiterated in public and social contexts. One of the speeches at a diksha ceremony in Delhi was titled, Guru ka mahatva (the importance of a guru).50 Sadhvi Anupama ji of Shraman Sangh extolled the necessity of a guru, even for the most learned of wise men through a story of a learned scholar who approached a Jain muni asking if a scholar like him needed a guru. The muni replied that he would give the answer in due course. The muni summoned the man one day, handed him an envelope to be delivered in a village across the river. The man hired a boatman, asking him to ferry him to the village so that he could deliver the letter. The boatman retorted: which village and which house in that village? Perplexed, he returned to the muni, enquiring him about the way to the house where the letter was to be deposited. The muni replied that he had devised this exercise as a lesson for him to illustrate the significance of guru. ‘Even though you may know the sadhana and sadhya (the ‘means’ and ‘goal’), you still need someone to show you the way,’ thus concluded Sadhvi Anupama sri. ‘Guru is that light which pierces the darkness to show us the way. The new initiate had done well to choose a guruni who would guide her on the sayama path.’

A Gendered Discourse However none of these reasons by themselves — the centrality of the ideal of renunciation among Jains, familial networks or an active recruitment policy on part of senior mendicants — will suffice to explain the greater number of female ascetics. Surely these would hold true for male mendicants too, so then why this preponderance of nuns? Obviously it is not simply the religious ideal of renunciation that one 49 50

Sthanakvasi sect. Interviewed by author, Jain Vir Nagar Colony, Delhi. Diksha of Preeti Jain, Rohini, Delhi.

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will have to examine but how this ideal speaks to women, how they appropriate it, imbue it with their feminine imagery and make it their own. In order to arrive at a fuller understanding we must listen closely to sadhvis’ own accounts of their individual interests and motivations. I argue that by doing so, it is possible to extract a gendered discourse. When asked about their personal reasons for turning to the path of renunciation, most sadhvis preferred to couch their choices in an abstract religious and spiritual language (see examples cited already); but when prodded about the reasons for female renunciation in more general, impersonal terms, they constructed a panoply of reasons — reasons that had clearly to do with their femaleness.

A Binary of Oppositions Nuns construct a binary of oppositions: womanhood corresponds to emotions and faith, while men are banished to the space of conspicuous materialism. Men move in the outside world and easily come to be enamoured of its shallow dross. They are the ones who conduct business (Jains are largely a mercantile community), which necessarily involves calculation, gain and subterfuge, all of which draw them away from the true ideals of the faith. The operations, indispensable to their occupation, unavoidably incur karmas. On the other hand, women inhabit the interior spaces — relegated as they are to the households or mandirs or sthanaks. It is women who carry on the religious functions required of any pious Jain family. They are the ones who fast the most, who most often visit the mendicants, serving them, listening to their pravachanas. Though some scholars have detected a sexual division of labour in terms of religious roles and duties — with women chiefly concerned with fasting and men with dana or donation — it is not uncommon for women to persuade their husbands to give gifts or endowments to ashramas or constructions of dharamshalas and temples.51 Josephine Reynell argues that it is women who are primarily responsible for the ideological reproduction of the Jain community.52

51 This view was articulated among others by Mr Chakresh Kumar Jain, President of All India Digambar Sabha and an influential leader of Old Delhi merchant community. Interviewed by author, Darya Ganj, Delhi. 52 Reynell, ‘Equality and Inequality’, p. 55.

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Natural Propensity for Renunciation Thus, there was unanimity among all nuns, regardless of sectarian affiliations, that women were ‘naturally’, ‘innately’ more suited to a life of mendicancy. Asceticism demands sacrifice, endurance of pain, frugality: qualities that come naturally to women, according to the nuns. Women’s innate nature is encapsulated by that one word: komal. It could simultaneously mean tender, pliable, and vulnerable: all implying that woman is a soft target for religious discourses, which evoke in her feelings that would not be aroused in a man. According to a laywoman, women/girls are a vulnerable target for religious sermons because ‘they are softer hearted (komal) and when they listen to pravachanas everyday, a chord is struck somewhere and they take to vairagya easily. Since men are mostly busy in their business etc., it is mostly women and girls who come to sthanaks, mandirs and listen to pravachanas.’ A lifetime of spirituality comes naturally to her. To many nuns, it seemed the most valid rationalisation for the historically perceptible trend of the numerical predominance of sadhvis over sadhus. Manju sri ji explained this to me thus: To take diksha and to leave one’s family needs a lot of courage — and not everyone has it […] Girls have a greater courage to renounce family and samsara. Her qualities are sahansheelta (tolerance) and samarpana (surrender, complete dedication). It is these qualities which help her keep her family together; the very same qualities spur her further on the path of sadhana in religion.53

Sadhvi upon sadhvi characterised renunciation as a distinctly feminine enterprise, removed from typical masculine traits.54 According to 53

Interviewed by author, Jain Vir Nagar Colony, Delhi. Manju sri ji’s disciple, Malli sri also reiterated this theme of a universal female emotional state eminently suited to renunciation: ‘Women are more emotional. If you look at any society, women, more than men, are inclined towards religion. Women can exercise greater control over themselves. Some of course can’t, and get married. Some also return to the householders’ life even after having renounced.’ Kaushalya ji too contrasted renunciation as a feminine characteristic, distinct from the typical masculine traits: ‘Women are by nature tender, whereas men are hard. Men are less influenced by their circumstances, unlike women who take to vairagya more easily.’ According to Karuna sri: ‘It’s been recorded in the past too. Right from Rishabadeva’s time to the present, there have been more women than men in this. Women are more inclined towards religion; it comes to them naturally, but not to men.’ All three belong to Sthanakvasi sect. Interviewed by author, Lawrence Road and Jain Vir NagarColony, Delhi, respectively. Other Sthanakvasi nuns of their group repeated the same point. The Tapa Gacch nuns too reiterated this. Dinmnai ji, the sadhvi who presides 54

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a senior Sthanakvasi sadhvi, Shubham ji, religion is related more to the heart and concerned less with the mind (mastishka). In her words: ‘It is the domain of feelings and emotions.’55 And the inhabitants of this domain are women. The constant recourse to komalta, sahansheelta and samarpana reminds one of Khandelwal’s assertion that renunciation may be framed in terms of feminine qualities (see Chapter II).

From Biological to the Social But lest one think that these nuns are advocating a version of biological determinism, a slightly deeper probe will reveal that these statements tell us not so much about the womanly potential for asceticism, and their supposedly ‘natural’ propensity for tyaga and sahansheelta, as much as about the social realities that these women live in; the conditions which demand that women endure pain and sorrow, their positions in family, kin and community structures that render them vulnerable to suffering. What might first appear to approximate almost a ‘biologically deterministic’ explanation — women are simply born this way — detours quickly into the sociological. With great precision, nuns unfold the social structures that pattern a woman’s life. And this life, said the nuns uniformly, is one marked by dukha (sorrow); indeed dukha is the leitmotif of a woman’s life. Thus while she is komal, a woman is also seen as a reservoir of forbearance, with immense facility to endure life’s privations. So extreme are the hardships that a woman has to endure in her life that she has been exempted from descending into the seventh hell. That is, a woman’s life is equivalent to hell!56 A woman is never independent — her life being characterised by a perpetual dependence on male relatives. Renunciation then offers an escape from this state of dependency and grants a semblance of autonomy and freedom that is unavailable in a householder’s life. over the upashraya at Ghee walon ka Rasta in the heart of old Jaipur ascribes the greater number of sadhvis to the fact that ‘girls have more vairagya, much more than men do. Their is a komal temperament so they are more easily inspired to take to this path. Men, on the other hand, are tougher.’ Sadhvi Shrutadarshita too says: ‘Women are like that only […] women are more emotional. Men are stronger. It is more difficult to pull them towards this one path of dharma, whereas women are soft and malleable, and can be guided towards this path more easily.’ Interviewed by author, Roop Nagar, Delhi. 55 Interviewed by author, Agra. 56 Jain cosmology posits seven hells of increasing darkness. One may be reborn in any of these hells depending upon the extremities of actions and karmas accumulated in the present life.

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Suvriti sri ji said that, ‘woman is an abla. First, she has to listen and follow her parents; once she is married, she has to pay heed to her husband and his family; and then her son. All she has to do through her life is to endure (sahana). She lives her entire life fearing that she might cross the line of maryada. That is why religious values are more easily ingrained in women.’57

Anxieties about Marriage Though the common assumption — as we discussed at the beginning of the chapter — is that inability to find husbands, or at least appropriate husbands, pushes girls into sanyasa, the issue of marriage, though not absent in the nuns’ accounts, figures in a very different way. It is the fear of marriage, which many girls identified as crucial to the choice of asceticism. Of course it is unlikely that any sadhvi would be willing to taint her choice of renunciation with the lack of marriage possibilities, even if it were to be true. Nonetheless, what was remarkable was the manner in which many of the sadhvis interviewed reified their anxieties about the prospective husband and his kin — the fear of not being able to fulfil their expectations, absolute self-effacement that marriage entails for women, and their precarious situation in these households. For instance, many sadhvis used the phrase shaadi-barbaadi (marriage is a state of ruin).58 Malli sri completely eschewed the religious domain to instead yoke her explanation about the greater numbers of women in monastic orders in the social sphere. Equating marriage with the loss of dignity (asmita), she rued the ‘adjustments’ women are expected to make after their marriages. She also doubted very much the possibility of finding compatibility and companionship in marriage.59 Likewise, Vairagyapurna sri articulated the fears many girls countenance regarding their marriages: ‘The parents fix the best match possible, 57

Sthanakvasi. Interviewed by author, Jain Vir Nagar Colony, Delhi. Niranjana sri ji of Khartar Gacch said: ‘I wanted to work for my atma kalyana. Also since childhood, I did not want to get married. Shaadi-barbadi’. 59 ‘I was not attached to the samsara since childhood. I always thought that what is the need to get married? To marry means to lose one’s dignity (asmita). One has to do as the husband says. Very rarely does one get a compatible life partner; otherwise usually a girl has to change herself to suit the husband. So I was never inclined towards marriage.’ Interviewed by author, Jain Vir Nagar Colony, Delhi. 58

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but who can predict the future? Who knows what fate will bring to the girl.?’60 Sambodhi sri (a disciple of Manju sri), whom I met at the Lawrence Road Sthanak continued to describe her vairagya in the framework of karma bandhana and moksha till I met her sister and nephew, who had come to spend a few days with her at the sthanak. She confided that her sister had suffered a ‘bad marriage’ and that made her turn towards vairagya. Though her sister’s second marriage proved to be successful, the first bad experience had shaken Sambodhi enough to completely disregard the idea of marriage (she said: ‘of course her second marriage is fine and she is happy. But still…’). To be sure, many nuns recognised that the patriarchal social structures did not always give women a second chance (in that sense, Sambodhi sri’s sister had been rather fortunate). In some cases, it may be that older women of the family, having suffered in their own domestic situations, and disillusioned with samsara, may encourage their daughters to escape its bondage. According to Suvriti sri, a Tapa Gacch nun, her aunt dissuaded her four daughters from marriage, saying that she would rather give her daughters to yati (a Jain religious figure, equivalent to the priest) than yama. Yama, the God of Death is cast as an equivalent of jamai (son-in-law), effectively rendering marriage into a proposition as fatal as death itself.61 Indeed then, for women, a life of asceticism is preferable to a life of marriage and domesticity. Suvidhiprabha, a teenaged sadhvi put it eloquently: ‘A diamond looks glorious if studded in a necklace but it will be reduced to cinder in a kitchen.’62

Escape from Patriarchy Akshay sri clearly identifies gender discrimination and a woman’s search for more equitable and just arrangements as the real reason for women turning in such numbers towards asceticism. Though she supported the ‘natural propensity’ thesis to explain the greater number of women ascetics, the second part of her argument was embedded in a purely social locus. 60

Tapa Gacch. Interviewed by author, Atmanand Jain Sabha, Delhi. Interview at Gujarat Apartments, Rohini, Delhi. The nuns were stationed at the apartment, which had been converted into an upashraya as a concession to urban life. 62 Terapanthi. Interviewed by author, Surana House, Jaipur. 61

Te Making of a Sadhvi A 115 Even though a woman has the talent and ability, she is rarely given the appropriate status in society. This hurts her self-esteem, pride and dignity. So she wants to leave all this, but where can she go? Women are discriminated in all walks of life. She wishes to go somewhere where she can live as an individual. This can be found in religion alone.63

One might attribute the apparent radical content of this statement to the fact that Akshay sri belongs to the reformist Sthanakvasi sect, and is a disciple of Manju sri, known widely as Krantijyot because of her progressive ideas. However, even nutns of other sects enunciated similar ideas. A Khartar Gacch sadhvi, Divyaguna sri,64 for instance, made an explicit connection between women’s social position and their numerical preponderance. In her view, the imminent threat of physical violation results in perpetual policing and familial control over a woman’s movements, virtually rendering her a slave. The sense of total loss over their own lives drives women towards vairagya. The loss is still greater in the case of widows who lose even the last channel to exercise even the barest autonomy. Death of the husband places a woman firmly within the direct control of his kin. Nuns who had joined monastic orders as widows emphasised this aspect, rather than financial insecurity or impoverishment, as their primary motivation towards renunciation. Amritprabha sri, an old Tapa Gacch sadhvi,65 had taken diksha at the age of 13, soon after she was widowed. She says she took diksha because she feared a lifetime of household drudgery in the service of her in-laws. Over 45 years later, she is content to have devoted her life for own atma kalyana. Similarly, another sadhvi from the same group, Sayamratna, was insistent that she be granted permission for diksha by her mother-in-law, for she feared that her husband’s kin would deny her the permission on the death of her mother-in-law, preferring her instead to spend her time in household chores and carry out their wishes. Thus for widows, diksha also becomes a means to thwart the absolute loss of control over their own lives, with which widowhood presents them.

63

Interviewed by author, Jain Vir Nagar Colony, Delhi. Khartar Gacch, Interviewed by author, Aradhna Bhawan, Jaipur. 65 Interviewed by author, Atmanand Jain Sabha, Roop Nagar, Delhi. 64

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Renunciation and Householdership: Contrasting Models To those girls who frequently visit nuns, the differences between the nuns’ lives and the ones that marriage and domesticity offer appeared quite stark. Many nuns conceded that it was during visits to their initiated female kin that they acquired a heightened sense of this. Kusumprabha of the Tapa Gacch told me that she arrived at her decision to undertake renunciation after a serious comparison between the state of sanyasa and domesticity. She observed the atmosphere (vatavarana) of her cousin Ram Pyari’s marital home and then compared it with the life of her sister (Prafullprabha) who had already taken diksha by then. Kusumprabha begged her parents to postpone her engagement to allow her to take a break for 12 months since she needed time to think about her future course of life. By the end of those 12 months she was certain that it was a life of asceticism that she wanted. For many nuns, interaction with lay women who visit them and confide to them the problems in their marriage and at home routinely re-affirms the validity of their own choice and strengthens their own vairagya. On the contrary, many laywomen frequently regret the lack of foresight and courage on their part to have not recognised the true character of samsara: uncaring husbands, demanding children, unending responsibilities. Divyaguna sri of Khartar Gacch claimed that laywomen often told her how fortunate she was to have developed bhavana for diksha before marriage — to have escaped the drudgery that is their lot. While she was talking to me, a small group of laywomen who had come to the Aradhna Bhawan to spend some time with sadhvis was nodding in assent. ‘Girls these days do not marry before 25 years. They see the domestic problems around them. They understand that not all husbands and mothers-in-law are good. They thus resolve that it’s best not to get married,’ explained one laywoman. Even though sanyasi life is full of hardships (locha, continuous travel during extreme heat and cold, frugal lifestyle), it is still preferable to the pain and sorrow that marriage and family life entails. ‘Compared to that, the physical pain that we endure in our [ascetic] life is miniscule,’ says Prafullprabha sri ji. ‘No responsibility, no tension, no familial

Te Making of a Sadhvi A 117

obligations […] whatever you do, it is solely for your own spiritual uplift’ [emphasis added].

Just like Mira: Stridharma vs Atma kalyana Marriage creates bondage in many ways: authority of the husband, domestic quarrels, duties towards the in-laws, children and other kin — all of these fetter women’s independence and autonomy. But there are also other kinds of ‘unfreedom’ that are inherent for women in the samsara. The daily business of running a household obstructs women from performing their religious duties. Remember here that Jainism construes each individual as solely responsible for one’s own liberation and spiritual wellbeing. The nuns also felt that marital families did not permit them to undertake these practices, for samayika and swadhyaya requiring long hours of meditation and self study often conflict with the labour women are expected to contribute to the family. According to Kavyaprabha sri, a Khartar Gacch sadhvi I interviewed at Aradhna Bhawan in Jaipur: In the householder’s existence, there is no atma kalyana, only karma bandhanas. Occasionally though one may get a good husband and girls can practice samayika and sadhana without hindrance from the in-laws, but usually no one allows [girls to diligently practice the religion]. Domestic chores keep girls preoccupied. In some Marwari families, the daughter-inlaw has to do all the domestic work, even educated girls will not be allowed to follow all the religious requirements of fasts etc. — such is the bondage of married life. But atma kalyana can only happen if I can follow all my religious rituals and penances.

She further says, ‘We want to live independent lives. Just like Mira’ [emphasis added]. This is different from the argument that women’s experience of suffering and sorrow in the samsaric life prepares them for vairagya — what it essentially says is that women find it difficult to work for their own spiritual welfare in a family life. This constitutes the theme of many stories written and collected by sadhvis. ‘Samajhdar bahu’ (The wise daughter-in-law) is the story of a middle class girl who is married to the postmaster’s son. Though her in-laws did not demand dowry at the time of marriage, once she leaves for her marital home, she is constantly harassed for dowry. As the demands for dowry escalate, so does her husband’s family’s opposition to her following the religious

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rituals: she is not allowed to go to the temple, meet sadhvis, or observe fasts. One day she is thrown out of the house. In despair, she decides to take her own life. As she is going to the river to commit suicide, she meets some Jain sadhvis who take her with them to the upashraya. Meanwhile the neighbours of her husband’s family inform the police, who launch a hunt for her. The girls’ parents go to the upashraya seeking peace and find their daughter there. The daughter is taken to the police station but she refuses to indict her parents-in-law; instead she sings their high praises and ultimately shames them. A happy reunion ensues with the parents-in-law vowing never to ill-treat her or ever to obstruct her in her religious duties. The story ends with the hailing of Jain dharma, the ahimsa dharma. This tension is most vivid in case of those sadhvis who wished to take sanyasa, leaving behind husbands, and even children. In sharp contrast to the figure of the widow, who is commonly believed to have been pushed into a lifetime of rigorous asceticism, stands the married woman, who willingly abandons her marriagehood, her husband, and even frequently her children, to embrace the white clothes of a sadhvi which would be considered, in the normal course, inauspicious for a married woman. Of the 65 sadhvis I interviewed, there was only one sadhvi who had taken diksha in her married state. Nirmal sri ji of Khartar Gacch was 32-years-old when she left her home to become a sadhvi. Her husband’s family had a jewellery business. She told me that her husband and children still come to visit her often. I probe her why she renounced when she already had children. All she would say was: ‘there is no peace in the samsara. Here you can work for your atma kalyana.’ It does beg the reopening of the suggestion made by Burghart: that of the adequacy of celibacy in the household. Is it possible for women to exercise the Jain ideal of celibacy within households? In commenting upon the householder ascetic Rajachandra, James Laidlaw admits that it would not be possible for women to indulge in such austerities, for neither her labour nor her sexuality are hers to renounce — they belong to her husband and his kin group.66 It was not within her rights to withdraw these, at least not till the husband himself grants her permission and foregoes his claims on her sexuality willingly. 66

James Laidlaw, Riches and Renunciation, pp. 240–41.

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Take the instance of Sadhvi Lichma ji. Married when she was a mere 11-years-old, she bore a son six years after the marriage. When the child turned around 3-years-old, she began visiting sadhus and sadhvis for seva with her mother-in-law. She was totally immersed in her family life but one day she listened to a sadhu’s pravachana who emphasised the fleeting nature of worldly pleasures. The discourse also dwelt on the importance of practicing brahmacharya. Listening to this, Lichma suddenly developed an extreme disinterest towards the samsara and resolved to undertake the vow of brahmacharya within her married life. During that time, her husband, Fatehchand’s business kept him in another town, Kanakpur. Lichma wrote him long letters communicating her decision. Fatehchand’s response was to reprimand her severely for her fanciful desires. In some time, he returned to Sardarshehar, whereupon Lichma again broached the subject of her diksha. He dismissed her: ‘It is pointless to even raise this issue with me. You know that my parents are old, our son is merely 3-years-old, two of my brothers live apart — how can you even entertain these ideas?’ Lichma conceded on the subject of diksha but insisted that they would henceforth refrain from sexual relations. Fatehchand and Lichma agreed to practice brahmacharya for one year. As the year drew to a close, Fatehchand began to demand his conjugal rights but she continued to resist.67 Dejected, Fatehchand returned to Kanakpur. Lichma’s vairagya continued to grow: she memorised hundreds of devotional songs and regularly visited and served ascetics, to the chagrin of her in-laws. They demanded to know why she was spending so much time on these activities. Did she intend to become a sadhvi herself? Yes, she replied, I only need your permission. This let lose a storm in the family. Fatehchand was sent for, but he refused to come, which enraged the family even further. Disappointed at the family’s 67 Recall the case of Anandamayi Ma discussed in Chapter II, who would lose consciousness each time her husband would approach her for sex. Lawrence Babb’s study of Brahma Kumari movements provides an interesting parallel. The central teaching of this movement, founded by a Sindhi businessman in the early 1930s, and drawing its followers entirely from among Sindhi married women, was celibacy. Babb reports that Sindhi traders returned from a long tour to discover that their wives had ‘made vows of chastity and wished to transform their homes into ‘temples’. […] Husbands and their families frequently responded with beatings, wife expulsions, and lawsuits for the reinstatement of conjugal rights.’ Lawrence A. Babb, ‘Indigenous Feminism in a Modern Hindu Sect’, Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society, 1984, vol. 9. no. 3, p. 403.

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reaction, she refused to touch food till they granted her permission to take diksha. When several days passed and she continued to fast, the family sent a message to Fatehchand, urging him to return at the earliest. When he arrived in Sardarshehar, Lichma was in to her 16th day of fasting. When he begged her to break her fast, she sought his permission. Seeing her adamant, Fatehchand assured her that he would not stand in her way by withholding permission for diksha. She was however not convinced. She said that she would only trust a written permission, lest he go back on his word. It was only after she received a written assent from him that she broke her fast. But the next day, Fatehchand tore up the letter and refused to allow her to renounce. She pleaded with him to re-marry and to consent to her decision. The matter remained unresolved and Fatehchand returned to Kanakpur. Upon his return to Kanakpur, Fatehchand felt a change coming over him. He seemed to be seized by a fierce desire to renounce the samsaric life and to undertake diksha. He communicated to the acharya his wish to host a few sadhus for chaturmas in Kanakpur. This communion with ascetics for four months further strengthened his disenchantment with the world. He came to Sardarshehar and told Lichma that not only was he willing to grant her permission; but that he was also seriously considering receiving diksha. This filled Lichma with great joy and the husband–wife duo approached the family for cooperation. It was after enormous persuasion that the family finally relented to give the two permission for diksha. Thus Lichma was initiated at the age of 27, leaving behind a husband and a 7-year-old child. Sadhvi Lichma’s was not only instance where women renounced alongside their husbands. Indeed, there have been recorded many cases where husbands insisted that their wives renounce along with them. Sadhvi Panna ji was initiated at the insistence of her husband who himself wanted to take diksha and also urged her to be ordained alongside. When Panna ji’s husband expressed his aspiration that they both take diksha, she refused, saying that she was too ignorant about the ascetic life to take the plunge, and besides, she did not feel any disenchantment from the world. The husband responded: ‘I led you by your hand to this world (marital home), and I will not leave you alone here.’ Interestingly, I did not come across any reverse instance, where the husband took diksha at the wife’s insistence. Thus diksha becomes the

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last act of conjugality and the fulfilment of husbandly duties; on the wives’ part, it is the final act of fulfilling her pativratadharma. Moreover, what avenues would the wife have in absence of the husband? Refusal to be ordained alongside the husband would be unlikely to endear her to his family. The best option in this case would certainly be to seek diksha. Not a widow, she would not be entitled to inherit his property or other assets. One legal case points to the vagaries of an abandoned wife. The suit, Muni Kantivijayji 34, Bom. L.R. 587 before Beaumont C.J. and Broomfield J., records that a Jain muni’s wife approached the British courts for maintenance. The Lower Court under Section 488 of Criminal Procedure Code ruled against the husband, who had become a Jain sadhu, to pay `25 per month as maintenance to his wife. This was however challenged in the High Court, first on the ground that Lilavati ceased to be his wife after her husband became a sadhu, and second on the ground that the husband had no sufficient means.68

A Career Option? Their repugnance to the institution of marriage notwithstanding, the nuns were only too aware that their chances of forging an independent career and remaining single were scant. Coming from conservative (though well-to-do) families, the model of a ‘single career woman’ was not a viable option for these girls. According to the 1991 Census, for almost 25 per cent of Jain women in urban areas and around 43 per cent in rural areas, the average age of marriage was below 17 years. Marriage at such a young age forecloses the possibility of charting a professional career, given especially the trading backgrounds of their families. Indeed, John Cort narrated to me his encounter with a young Terapanthi nun at Ladnun, who favourably compared her ascetic career (which allowed, indeed required, her to undertake studies and wide travel) with the fate of other girls from Marwari Jain families, who were usually married off at a very young age and thence were devoted only to their husbands and raising children. Similarly, Malli sri was determined to escape the ‘four walls of domesticity”’and hence decided to take samyama. It was her elder 68

‘Aspects of Jaina Jurisprudence’ by the Late Justice G. N. Vaidya, Bombay High Court, Abridged by Bal Patil. Personal correspondence from Bal Patil. I am indebted to him for sharing it with me.

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sister’s diksha, which prompted her to realise that the path of samyama held out the possibility of freedom she desired: ‘then I thought that this is also a path available to me. There was no way my family would allow me to stay single/alone (akela) otherwise.’ Ranjana, the candidate ascetic I met at Agra also highlighted the freedom to work rather than any religious reason for her inclination towards diksha: Actually since my childhood I wanted to do something good. I never wanted to get married. I could have fulfilled this at home also but there you never enjoy so much freedom, I mean my family did give me the freedom but parents being parents always worry over you: where is she going at this late hour? When will she return? And so on. But here we have absolute freedom. Also there are no other distractions [that one suffers in grihastha] like going out for parties or meeting others and socialising. This is precisely the reason why I am abandoning these clothes (pointing to the grihastha clothes she is still wearing as her diksha is the next day) for those ones (nodding towards sadhvi Shilapi ji at the other end of the room). This will allow me to completely devote myself to the cause of social work and spirituality.

Many younger nuns especially said that failure to pursue the studies of their choice roused in them an indifference towards formal education, marriage and other worldly things.69 Niranjana sri for instance wanted to study medical science and become a doctor, but was not allowed to do so (probably on account of the Jain repugnance towards dissection, or perhaps because higher education for women was not favoured by the family; it was not clear). After a meeting with the legendary Khartar Gacch sadhvi Vichaksha sri, sanyasa emerged as a viable alternative for her. 69 Dr Manju sri first veered towards the idea of taking diksha when she was in the ninth class in school. ‘I was a very bright student’, she says. According to her, she was a superlative student, consistently scoring high marks in maths and physics. Her family and friends wished her to become a doctor so she opted for the science stream, without the faintest idea about what it might involve. But she balked when she was asked to dissect a frog as part of her school exercise. The values of non-violence, ingrained in her since childhood, revolted at this task assigned to her. This was the moment when she decided to withdraw from formal education altogether. Though Manju’s parents pursued her to switch subjects and continue her education, she was adamant in her wish to pull out of the school system. But ejection from school did not mean a withdrawal into the household; on the contrary, Manju opted to live with maharaj ji, to finally enter a monastic life.

Te Making of a Sadhvi A 123

Sadhvis, especially those hailing from groups that have actively undertaken philanthropic work (such as a group of Sthanakvasi nuns at Rajgir, Bihar) regard asceticism as a vocation, a service, rather than a purely spiritual pursuit. And even those nuns who did not engage in direct social work, did consider their work — which involved instructing laity in religious matters, listening to, and counselling laywomen on their problems — as more fulfilling and productive than housework.

Access to Higher Education Sadhvi life has allowed many of these women to pursue higher education. Though not surprisingly, the highest number of sadhvis who had completed graduate and postgraduate courses and doctoral degrees was from the reformist Sthanakvasi sampradayas and Terapanthi order; Murtipujak sadhvis still lagging behind in this area. Most of them only complete schooling till the middle or matriculation level, or undertake the study of Jain scriptures informally or under the tutelage of a teacher.70 This derives from the fact that many sadhvis withdraw from formal education at the onset of puberty since menstrual blood is considered highly impure: ‘Menstruation defiles knowledge. One should not even think of the scriptures; leave alone, read or touch them during “those days”.’71 A Tapa Gacch sadhvi told me that she wanted to finish her schooling and then B.A., but feared that she may have to sit for the exams on a day she was having ‘M. C.’72 Such harsh taboos are not prevalent among the Sthanakvasis and Terapanthis and this is amply reflected in the high numbers of sadhvis who seek advanced academic degrees. Out of the 65 sadhvis studied, 30.76 per cent had access to higher education. Indeed, at Preeti Jain’s diksha ceremony, senior monks reminded her that she was entering a group of very accomplished and learned sadhvis and that this should inspire her to devote herself completely to the pursuit of knowledge for the next few years. While we do not have comparative figures for monks’ education standards, I suspect it to be lower than that of nuns. First, a monk’s 70 A pundit ji had been engaged for Srutadarshita sri at the Atmanand Jain Sabha, Roop Nagar, Delhi. 71 Srutadarshita sri, interviewed by author, Roop Nagar, Delhi. 72 Menstrual cycle was euphemistically referred to as “M. C.” by nuns.

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prestige does not rest on his gaining degrees; a nun on the other hand, achieves greater respect and esteem in the wider community on account of her higher learning. Flugel in his study of the Terapanthi organisation also writes that the rigorous rules and procedure of training and education is often relaxed for male candidates because it is more difficult to attract men to mendicant orders. Male diksharthis therefore may be granted initiation directly as full-fledged mendicants unlike female diksharthis who are by rules required to undergo training at Prathmik Shikhsa Sansthan at Ladnun (Rajasthan) and gain at least some basic degrees in Jainism.73 Second, monastic life is seen by nuns as an avenue and opportunity to engage in higher learning and gaining degrees, denied to them in a householder’s life. A more appropriate comparison thus would be to compare the education standards of nuns with Jain female householders. And indeed, the differences are quite striking: compared to 30.76 per cent of sadhvis from my sample who had access to higher education, only 11.8 per cent of Jain girls from the general population in urban areas, and a paltry 1.71 from rural areas had access to higher education.74 Freedom to pursue independent studies unhindered by familial responsibilities was cited by sadhvis as one important attraction of a sadhvi life. Some of the most common subjects of study were Prakrit, Sanskrit, Jain philosophy and comparative religions. Since its establishment, Jain Vishwa Bharati, a deemed university, established by Terapanthi Acharya Tulsi at Ladnun in Rajasthan, attracts a number of sadhvis not only from the Terapanthi but from other sects as well. This is not to say that there have not emerged sadhvis, even among the Murtipujaks, who are revered widely for their learning and spiritual merits. Sadhvi Vichakshan sri of Khartar Gacch became the first female renouncer among Jains to gain the status of a fully canonised saint. A statue of the sadhvi has been raised at Moti Dungri in Jaipur, indeed a rarity for female renouncers. Similarly, Mata Gyanmati ji, a Digambar Aryika, is also the object of veneration for the laity and monks alike owing to her extraordinary powers of memory, intelligence and perseverance. See Table 4.4 for the educational levels of Jain nuns interviewed. 73 74

Flugel, ‘The Codes of Conduct of the Terapanth Saman Order’, p. 11. 1991 Census figures.

Tapa Gacch (Gujarat Apartments, Rohini, Delhi) Sumati sri Tapa Gacch (Ghee walon ka Rasta, Jaipur)

Tapa Gacch (Roop Nagar, Delhi) Sumangala sri and Amritprabha sri

Khartar Gacch (Jain Mandir, Jaipur) Khartar Gacch (Aradhna Bhawan, Jaipur)

Suvriti sri

Srutadarshita sri, Sayamratna sri, Prafullprabha sri, Kusumprabha sri, Vairagyapurna sri and Poornanadita sri

Chandraprabha sri and Kusumpragnya sri

Shwetanjan sri

Informal education and schooling up to Matriculation

Distribution of educational standards of nuns

Khartar Gacch (Delhi) Sadhvi ji Khartar Gacch (Moti Dungri, Jaipur) Nirmal sri

No education

Table 4.4:

B.A.

Niranjana sri & Kavyaprabha sri

Chinmaya sri, Chandanbali sri and another sadhvi (name not given) Prashamrasa sri

M.A.

(Table 4.4 Continued)

Divyaguna sri

Dr Surekha sri & Hemrekha sri

Lakshapurna sri

Ph.D.

Savita, Anita and Manjula

Ramkumar Sundar sri, Vinay prabha sri

KanKumari sri, Mankamal sri and Rajmati sri

Terapanthi (Milap Bhawan, Jaipur)

Terapanthi (Surana House, Jaipur)

Aryika Bahubali mata ji

Kusumlata sri and Pramila sri

Lakshmi

Divyapratima sri, Divyarekha sri and Divyachetna sri Kaushalya devi sri, Kesar devi sri and Sambodhi sri

Informal education and schooling up to Matriculation

Sthanakvasi (Jain Girls’ School, Gurgaon) (Arhat Sangh) Digambar (Jain Mandir, Gurgaon) Aryika Jindevi mata ji Digambar (Kunda Kunda Bharati, Delhi) Digambar (Jain Mandir, Agra)

Sthanakvasi (Veeraytan, Bihar)

Sthanakvasi (Jain Vir Nagar Colony, Delhi)

Dinmani sri

No education

(Table 4.4 Continued)

Atmaprabha sri, Suvidhiprabha sri

Pushpanjali sri

Ranjana and Jyoti

Malli sri, Pragati sri, Karuna sri and Bharati sri

B.A.

Shilapi sri (M.Com. and M.A. in Indian Religions from University of London) Geetanjali sri

Akshay sri, Niti sri

M.A.

Swastiprabha sri

Acharya Dr Sadhna

Shubham sri and Acharya Chandana (degrees in Acharya) Subhasha sri

Dr Manju sri

Ph.D.

Te Making of a Sadhvi A 127

An Idyllic World Nuns continually refer to ascetic life as a diamond or gem, while the householder’s existence is compared to coal or worthless stones. Speaking of women who have returned to samsara having tasted the joys of asceticism, Vairagyapurna sri says: ‘it is the karma of their past lives. If it’s not written in their fate to lead a sanyasi life, then they are bound to find some reasons for their return. We know of those who have returned — read about them — they have never found any happiness. And how can it be too: how can you find happiness by renouncing the chintamani gem for mere pieces of glass. Those who return from this path only face difficulties in life.’ The similes, one will notice, are steeped in the nuns’ familial background of jewellery and gem trade. Asceticism in their view, affords the pleasures and majesticity of an elephant ride, and life in a domestic setting, akin to sleeping on a hard mat.75 Asceticism is characterised by genuine ananda and masti; samsara by a continual entrapment in karma bandhanas. Renunciation is like a sanctuary, which shields women from the demands of patriarchal control, allowing them to focus solely on their own spiritual welfare: We are under no one’s control, there are no problems. We are all like friends here: eat together, study together and meditate together, read books together. We face absolutely no problems [that women in household face] […] either that of husbands, children, mother-in-law — what they will say. We only think of our atma kalyana.76

Mankamal ji echoes this: This pleasure that I find here cannot be found anywhere. Everyone is immersed in their own studies, worship or guru vandana. What does the samsara offer [in comparison]? Women who take diksha want to do atma kalyana. Although all these — meditation, self-study and guru seva — can be done in a household too, but samyama (restraint) is a big thing — it cannot be done in a domestic life [emphasis added]. There is too much of 75 Sumangala sri, the venerable Tapa Gacch sadhvi said: ‘Do you think those who have ridden on elephant back would like to sleep on a mat?’ Interviewed by author, Atmanand Bhawan, Roop Nagar, Delhi. 76 Sadhvi Kavyaprabha sri, Khartar Gacch, interviewed by author, Aradhna Bhawan, Jaipur.

128 A Escaping the World jhagda, tera–mera in a grihastha. Here there are no tensions, only carefree pleasure.77

It creates a space that allows women who are unwilling to compromise their dignity in marriage to lead fairly independent lives, eliminating even the need to interact with men.78 What these sadhvis create is an idyllic world of sisterhood and comradeship, where fellow ascetics live and learn together, working in complete independence and autonomy. This is counter posed to the grihastha, where a woman is constantly forced to play a subservient role to her husband and his family, never free even to observe her own religious duties.

Towards a Conclusion From this discussion, it is clear that sadhvis invest a positive value to their diksha and ascetic life, foregrounding above all else their agency in choosing to lead such a life. They wish to quell any suggestion that parental pressure or financial problems forced them to turn to this path. We need to ask, however, if it might be easier for girls than for boys to secure parental permission for diksha. Girls are seen as contributing neither economically to the household nor genealogically to the family, thus the diksha of unmarried girls does not cut at the roots of the natal family’s material interests. The emotional costs of sending a daughter away after diksha are, on balance, countervailed by the operation of patrivirilocal residence after marriage, which in any case ensures that daughters spend their lives with their husband’s kin, only occasionally visiting their natal families. On the other hand, the marital family of a married diksharthi stands to lose her productive and reproductive labour. Thus we saw how difficult it was for Lichma to secure permission from her husband’s family. It may in part explain the disproportionately high number of unmarried girls and the low numbers of married women in sadhvi orders. If we look at the data collected during my fieldwork: out of 65 sadhvis, 36 had relatives who had taken diksha, but an overwhelming number of these were female relatives. Only Dinamani sri and a Khartar Gacch sadhvi had male kin (father and brother in the case of former; son in the case of latter) in Jain ascetic orders. These figures 77 78

Interviewed by author, Surana House, Jaipur. Malli sri, Sthanakvasi, interviewed by author, Jain Vir Nagar Colony, Delhi.

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are certainly indicative of the fact that it is easier for girls than men to win permission from their families for diksha, regardless of whether the families indeed engineer their ascetic careers or not.79 None of this takes away from the fact that a majority of nuns have chosen this life of asceticism over a householders’ life. Nuns associate asceticism with autonomy, freedom, joy, spiritual well being, self-worth, pleasure, calm and peace; and grihastha with loss of independence, fettered existence, degradation, burdensome familial obligations and social responsibilities. While a negative evaluation of the position of women within householders’ existence may be made in other religious traditions, especially in Hinduism, it is Jainism’s distinct feature to have evolved nun orders as part of its mainstream tradition. First and foremost, the recognition of women as legitimate aspirants and agents of salvation provides Jain women an advantage over women from other religions, where this recognition is either absent or remains diffused. Jainism, more than other religions, makes this ideal of salvation available to women. Even where the Digambars do not recognise the possibility of female salvation or strimoksha, a lifetime of asceticism can ensure rebirth in the male gati, and consequently liberation. Thus the possibility of liberation is never denied to women. Furthermore, though the Jain concept of soul and its entanglement, and the ideal of expiating karma through a lifetime of austerities is foregrounded by nuns, this must be read in light of their concern to engage in atma kalyana and the constraints the institutions of marriage and household — surely, the most potent symbol of bondage — place on them by virtue of their femaleness. In addition, many of their reasons to renounce were anchored in the mundane, and embedded in the daily lives of marriage, fear of widowhood, anxieties about prospective husbands and marital families. While occasionally girls who take diksha may be suspected of taking refuge in asceticism from the hardships of life — especially seen as a respectable escape route from ever-spiralling dowries, sadhvis are also the objects of devotion and reverence, upheld as models of the 79 The nuns themselves are only too aware of it. Sallu maharaj pointed out that though many of the sadhvis in their groups had sisters, none had brothers. Bharati sri was however the only nun who vigorously attributed the large numbers of women ascetics to parental pressure: ‘Today if people have more daughters, they just leave them with sadhvis. Today, unlike in the past, there is less diksha due to vairagya than due to parents’ pressure.’

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correct Jain way of life. Not only are sadhvis considered the paragons of religiosity and renunciation; many individual sadhvis acquire formidable reputations on account of their learning and community service. The lack of stigma, indeed the reverence sadhvis receive in the Jain community, makes it possible for them to constantly seek out new recruits and ensure the perpetuation of their groups. Field data suggests that the neophytes are largely drawn from a close circle of family and kin group of the senior sadhvis. This is the group where sadhvis are able to exercise the greatest influence. All of these factors conjoin to offer Jain women a socially approved, legitimate alternative career to marriage and family. The path of institutional asceticism offers a refuge and an autonomous space for the women to engage purely in their own spiritual uplift — or in social work as many sadhvis underlined — unfettered by the drag of marriage and families. Thus it is by scraping below the surface of what the nuns say is it possible to tease out a gendered discourse. In a sense, these nuns are echoing Dumont when they say that a woman can be individuated only through renunciation. However, this is a gendered perspective that completely eludes Dumont. More than Dumont can realise, nuns affirm the limits of such an individuation too, for instance, when Akshay sri says that with the entry of social arrangements in the domain of religion, women are rendered inferior. A

5 Ethics of Care: Individual and the Institutional The previous chapter dwelt on the reasons the nuns themselves attributed to their attraction to sadhvi orders, and indeed the reasons that may underlie the startling preponderance of sadhvis among the Jain monastic orders. However, we are immediately forced to recognise the wider institutional bulwark — so unique to Jainism — that makes it possible for women to act out on their decisions to eschew householdership or samsara in favour of an ascetic life. The institutional framework may be seen to be operating at two levels. First, Jainism offers the ideal of strinirvana which legitimates women’s aspiration for renunciation and ultimately moksha. While the Shvetambar position — as we saw in earlier chapters — is unequivocal on this, Digamabars — though denying the possibility of female liberation — are not averse to allowing women into their orders, albeit as quasi-mendicants. Second, we must attend to the fact that this ideal would have remained just that, an ideal, if it were not for the material sustenance of the institution of mendicancy, especially female mendicancy through a variety of means that Jain community as a whole puts together. In the ideal Dumontian sense, a mendicant once ejected from the social world becomes a social recluse: a solitary, self-sustaining individual, one who has firmly turned his back to the samsara. Even though many Jain nuns interviewed during the course of the fieldwork affirm that renunciation offered them a sense of individual autonomy and development of personality that would not be available to them in the samsara, it is argued here that it is the intimate conjunction, rather than a divorce, between the laity and mendicants that sustains the latter. Individuation is not achieved at the cost of severing all social bonds; on the contrary, Jain monasticism displays a remarkable amount of interaction between categories Dumont would typify as exclusive and antithetical.

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The Sthananga Sutra,1 an early Jain text classifies laity’s relationship with mendicants into four types: like mother and father (ammapitisamane); like a brother (bhatisamane); like a friend (mittasamane); and like a co-wife (savattisamane). 2 The Sutra idealises the first type as the most preferred, as its characteristics are love, compassion and devotion towards mendicants. In their role as parents, laity must guarantee that mendicants can continue their austerities and undertake religious and philosophical studies without having to bother about securing the means for their survival. They should also strive to ensure that the general Jain population gains from the wisdom and conduct of ascetics. Laity must emulate the parental model in committing themselves to the physical, mental and intellectual development of their wards (mendicants in this case). Such a characterisation of the relationship between laity and mendicants points to a deep linkage, collaboration and interdependence between the two. The present chapter examines this very inter-relationship and discusses how the high numbers of female mendicants is directly contingent upon the institutional framework of mendicancy. Writing of Hindu female renunciants, Meena Khandelwal notes the difficulty of enumerating them given their ‘anti-institutional… tendencies’.3 In contrast, the periodic and comprehensive censuses of mendicants among Jains can be said to be reflective of the institutional character of Jain renunciation. These surveys of the mendicant population are usually carried out prior to the onset of chaturmas and serve to first estimate the numbers of Jain mendicants as precisely as possible, and second, and more importantly, to announce the place of residence of sadhus and sadhvis during the mandatory four-month rain–retreat. Figures are first published in the local Jain digests and newsletters, and then collated in an all-India volume, Samagra Chaturmas Suchi. The enumeration of mendicants implies the institutionalisation 1 Sthananga Sutra is the third of the Anga class of Jain canonical literature. See Folkert, Scripture and Community, p. 20. 2 Those shravaks who show a feeling of love and aggression towards mendicants are like brothers; those who display love towards mendicants under favourable conditions but only apathy in times of crisis are like friends; shravaks who are completely devoid of love and devotion, and only interested in criticising mendicants are like co-wives. Dr Manju sri, ‘Shraman, Shramani ke ammapiya ke roop mein shravak–sharavikaon ki Shahstra–paddat bhumika aur uska kriyavandan’. Unpublished article. 3 Khandelwal, ‘Ungendered Atma’, p. 80.

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of Jain renunciation in several ways. Foremost, it indicates a close relationship between the laity and the mendicant community, for it is the laity, which is the driving force behind the compilation. It also underlines the importance of chaturmas for Jains, a period of intense interaction between the householders and ascetics. The publication of such lists at both local and national levels does seem to point to the presence of an institutional network encompassing both the lay and mendicant communities, across sectarian divisions. What is important is that neither the shorter, more local lists, nor the more exhaustive compilations are mere inventories of individual renouncers, whether male or female. Such directories clearly stress the lineages and group affiliations, always locating the sadhus and sadhvis in their respective samudayas and sampradayas.4

Two Models of Renunciation From the very beginning, Jainism has made available two models of ascetic conduct, existing predictably along its principal schism into Shvetambar and Digambar. The Digambar muni closely approximates the last tirthankara, Mahavira, while the Shvetambar sadhu may be seen closer to the chief sadhu under Mahavira, Sudharman Swami (or Aryika Chandana, the chief nun, in the case of sadhvis).5 The Digambar muni is enjoined to practice nudity and follow other severe rules that restrict meals to one time a day. There is a prohibition on even simple possessions such as a begging bowl or patra for water, and he is obliged to receive all food offerings in upturned palms, called pani-patra. All of these free him from any dependence on other ascetics or householders. These prescriptions render in many ways, according to Carrithers, the muni’s singular pursuit of liberation very close to Mahavira’s own battle, and subsequent victory in the field of karma. Being modelled on the paradigmatic life of tirthankaras allows the Digambar muni to ‘compete for, contest, and appropriate the prophet’s authority in relation to the laity’.6 Carrithers’ picture of 4 Samudaya means ‘co-arisings, i.e., descendents of the same sadhu’ and is used also in the sense of a sadhu parivar or family. Sampradaya is translated as ‘lineage’. See Cort, ‘The Shvetambar Murtipujak Jain Mendicant’, pp. 655–61. 5 R. K. Jain, The Universe as Audience: Metaphor and Community among the Jains of North India, p. 39. 6 Ibid., p. 30.

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Digambar munis is one of religious prodigals, fiercely individualistic and endowed with charismatic leadership.7 He writes: Indeed compared to Shvetambar munis or Theravada monks, the Digambar munis today seem to have an especially weak sense of standard training, of a line of papillary succession, or of allegiance to an order. In a comparative perspective the lack of such organising features can only emphasise the importance of munis’ personal charisma and the impression that theirs is a peculiarly individualistic form of life.8

This individualistic, prophet-driven mendicancy of Digambars can be contrasted with the church-like, group-bound and priestdriven atmosphere of the Shvetambar mendicant orders.9 To be 7 This is also made possible by the fact that the ascetic himself does not function as a priest; a whole range of people have been assigned the task of preserving and propagating Digambar Jainism. The role of the priest is performed by hereditary caste priests, upadhyayas. Treated more as a technological vocation, upadhyayas, the priests are regarded by the local Jain community as employees rather than preceptors. One of the most important figures of Digambar Jainism, at least till about 100 years ago, was that of the bhattarakas. Bhattarakas were originally heads of a group of naked monks who dwelt in the monasteries attached to temple complexes from fifth century onwards. The emergence of bhattarakas is attributed by Dundas to the practice of dana, the giving of alms and temporary shelter to ascetics. See Dundas, The Jains, pp. 106–7. R. K. Jain describes the bhattarakas cogently as ‘celibate but non-initiated clerics, linked to pontifical centres, taking hereditary names from their predecessor, wearing orange robes both inside and outside the monastery and taking them off in honour of the ancient ideal only when eating and when initiating another bhattaraka’. See Jain, The Universe as Audience, p. 33. The bhattarakas rose to such great power and eminence during the medieval period that they nearly overshadowed the naked munis as representative of Digambar Jainism. Much of their power derived from their role as a mediator between the local Digambar Jain community and the Hindu or Muslim potentates. They also adjudicated the affairs of local castes thus adding muscle to the relationship of their monasteries and the local populace. According to Dundas, the medieval period witnessed the rise of 86 bhattaraka thrones, each of which displayed the trappings of office and the accompanying pomp and ostentation. If the Digambar muni was the proprietor of charismatic authority, in the bhattaraka vested routinised authority. 8 Carrithers, ‘Jainism and Buddhism as Enduring Historical Streams’, p. 230. 9 There may be drawn a parallel between the Digambar institution of bhattaraka and the Shvetambar figure of the yati. In the mid-19th century, unlike today, full-fledged samvegi (liberation-seeking) sadhus who had undertaken the five mahavratas were hard to come by. What flourished instead was the institution of yatis, also known as gorji (guruji) — mendicants who had taken lesser vows and whose conduct hence reflected a general laxity of the monks’ rules. They could possess property, remain stationary in one place, in contrast to the requirement of a peripatetic life, and even if travelling, could make use of mechanical conveyance. Their prime preoccupations were magic, astrology and medicine; they

Ethics of Care A 135

sure, Shvetambars did not completely jettison the ideal of a solitary ascetic fashioned after the Jina. It was retained in the model of the jinakalpin, one who lives alone and naked, just as the Jina. This was however contrasted with another model, that of sthavirakalpin, one who lives clothed and in community following the conduct of the Jain elders. Given the impossibility of attaining liberation in this era, the Shvetambars believe, the appropriate model to be emulated is the one given by elders rather than the Jinas.10

Female Renouncers and the Model of Asceticism What should indeed be noted is the correspondence between the Digambar individualistic asceticism and the relatively lower figures of female ascetics among the sect on the one hand; and the tendency towards community-formation among the Shvetambars and the phenomenally high numbers of women mendicants to be found in their orders. Not only does the ideal of strinirvana remain diffused among the Digambars, the lack of group structures and weak institutional linkages (in terms of lay–ascetic relationship) retards the entry of women into its ascetic orders. It is argued here that a sense of community, the existence of structures and institutional framework is crucial to the proportion of female ascetics in any religion. Regardless of how profound the personal motivations of individual women to renounce, only if a religion initiates and institutionalises arrangements for the sustenance, survival and security of its female adherents is it likely to attract a substantial number of female ascetics. exercised a great deal of influence as wizards and royal preceptors. They lived and travelled in great style, mimicking the attributes of royalty — a throne, palanquin and attendants. Their intervention in the lay Jain society was much more than could be expected of samvegi sadhus with their otherworldly preoccupations with the project of liberation. See Cort, ‘The Shvetambar Murtipujak Jain Mendicant’, pp. 657–8. Both bhattarakas and yatis, then, represented what Carrithers calls domestication of the sangha. See Carrithers, ‘Jainism and Buddhism as Enduring Historical Streams’, p. 151. But again, differences may be noted in the manner and consequences of the decline of these institutions. In the case of the Digambars, the power or authority vested with the bhattarakas transferred to the lay leaders of the community; the authority of the yatis on the other hand passed largely into the hands of the samvegi sadhus, whose numbers registered a sharp rise just when the members of yatis started to decline. In the samvegi sadhus thus came to inhere both charismatic and routinised authority. 10 Jaini, Jaina Path of Purifcation, p. 20.

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Extreme individualism may satiate deep spiritual yearnings or might be the most appropriate path codified in the scriptures but female spiritual virtuosos are likely to be few and far between. For their numbers to rise to the levels they have risen to among Jains, leaving that of male mendicants far behind, we will have to take into account the kinds of institutional arrangements that are secured for nuns and the patterns of lay–mendicant interaction. Jainism is reckoned to be the first religious tradition to have evolved ‘institutional structures of monasticism’,11 which could well be the principal reason for the flourishing of its female orders. The scarcity of female renouncers in Hinduism derived not merely from the gynophobia evoked in its literature (which is not altogether absent in Jainism, as we have seen) but also from the fact that Hinduism developed its monastic orders rather late12, under the influence of Buddhist and Jain institutions. And yet, Shankara and Ramanuja, the founders of these orders, did not establish any separate nunneries. In the absence of such institutions, Hindu women renouncers continued to lead a peripheral existence.

Te Diksha Ceremony: Reflection of the Ascetic Model? If one were to follow Carrithers, the diksha ceremony is reflective of the mode of asceticism enjoined by sectarian tradition. Among Digambars, it clearly points to the personalised nature of the ascetic project, involves as it does a simple shedding of clothes before the image of the Jina and undertaking the five mahavratas by repeating them after the teacher. Even though a great deal of ceremony has come to attach itself to the event now, there is nonetheless no requirement of the ascetic collectivity, or the muni sangha, nor does it create enduring bonds between the initiate and his teacher, Carrithers argues. The essence of diksha, then, is the individual’s taking of the vows and the spiritual authority appealed to is Mahavira/Jina, rather than any guru or muni sangha. 11

S. J. Tambiah, “The Renouncer: His Individuality and his Community,” p. 303. Of course, individual ascetics and solitary itinerants were not unknown from before Jain and Buddhist times, and asceticism receives great attention in the Upanishads. Ibid., p. 302. 12

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If we were to turn our attention to the event of the Shvetambar diksha, what stands out is the nature of collective social affirmation of initiation into this mendicant tradition. In undertaking the vows of a mendicant, the acolyte is firmly imbricated in a tradition, one that traces its lineage not to the ‘Great Victor’, Mahavira, but to the order of mendicants established by Sudharma Swami. The principal vehicle of reiterating this bond is the public recitation of the ancestry of the initiate, from Mahavira to Sudharma Swami, to the founders of various sects and the present ‘family’ of the initiate and his teacher.13 However, Jain cautions against stretching this distinction between individualism of the Digambars and the church-like ambience of the Shvetambars too far, for each tendency can be discerned in the other. There is a functional need according to Jain to consolidate/ institutionalise group formation among Digambars;14 and indeed my experiences with Shvetambar nuns tell us that a great deal of emphasis is placed on the charisma of leaders and teachers as well as the individual nature of this pursuit of liberation. Furthermore, even Carrithers admits to the more recent accretions of public ceremony around the Digambar diksha. Indeed Aryika Jina Devi’s account of a typical Digambar diksha concentrated a great deal on the ceremonial content of the diksha, with the actual embracing of the five vows reduced to only a minor part of her narrative. The central role she assigned to Jain laity in the whole process turned it from a simple personal rite to a collective Jain, or at any rate, a Digambar Jain ceremony: Once in the mandapa where the samaj is also present, we implore the guru to give us diksha and to cut us off from the world. Then we turn to the samaj and seek their permission.15

There is an unequivocal emphasis on the samaj and her guru, making it approximate the Shvetambar rite of initiation with its church-like characteristics. If we consider diksha to be an indicator of the character of monastic organisation, then the increasingly public form of the diksha among the Digambars suggests the erosion of at least the practice (though 13

R. K. Jain, The Universe as Audience, p. 39. Ibid., p. 34. 15 Jina Devi mata ji. Interviewed by author, Digambar Jain Dadabari, Gurgaon. 14

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certainly not the ideal) of the Jina-like solitary mendicant. This has given way to, first, the institutionalisation of the communal setting in which the personal quest for salvation could be located; and second, a greater communication between the mendicants and laity. This has resulted in an overall scenario that is amenable to the spiritual pursuits of women, and thus we see a rise even in the numbers of female renouncers among the Digambars. The gap between male and female mendicants appears to be closing, and one aryika even refuted the suggestion that the proportion of female ascetics among Digambars have ever been low.16 Indeed, even Digambar laywomen confidently told me that the number of ‘mata jis’ is far greater than that of munis. This perhaps, has to do with the public character of their lives, despite the emphasis on personalised quest of liberation. But we will come to it a little later in the text. Dikshas are moments par excellence of achieving community solidarity — in terms of the elaborate preparations involved, mobilisation of resources and people, congregation of lay Jains as well as mendicant lineages who come together to witness the diksha — and communicating the primacy of Jain ascetic values (and in turn the superiority of the Jain faith) to the larger society through the figure of the diksharthi. The diksharthi has avowed to renounce the worldly pleasures in search of atma kalyana, and thus embodies the values Jainism holds in highest regard. The entire community comes to hold a stake in the initiation of an ascetic candidate. When I arrived in Agra in the summer of 2002, all Hindi newspapers were agog with the news of the diksha of three young Jain girls into Veeraytan (Sthanakvasi) mendicant order. These three girls were hailed as models of piety, virtuosity and sacrifice in today’s world, which was steeped in consumerism and materialism (see Plate 5.1). Like a traditional wedding, which is a union not between two individuals but involves a whole array of kin and other social networks, so too does the diksha galvanise a variety of social groups: gacch, sect and even the local Jain community as a whole. These mobilisations are not necessarily localised; sometimes, even communities across geographical distance may be marshalled. The Veeraytan diksha in Agra, for instance, involved groups from Bihar, Uttar Pradesh and 16

Aryika Jina Devi, interviewed by author, Digambar Jain Mandir, Gurgaon.

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Maharashtra. The girls to be given diksha hailed from small towns of the western state of Maharashtra, and their families were in full attendance. The group of nuns was based in Rajgir, Bihar; over a dozen nuns along with a retinue of helpers and employees of the Veeraytan Trust had travelled to Agra expressly for the diksha. There was even a young Jain girl from the U.S. who had come to spend her summer vacations with the nuns at Rajgir. It was the local Sthanakvasi Jain community upon whom devolved the task of hosting the nuns and their entourage, of organising the various events prior to the diksha including the shobha yatra, and managing and coordinating the entire programme. Acharya Chandana, the senior-most nun among the group, held various sermons on the theme of the need for intersectarian unity among Jains. Her pravachanas drew followers of other sects and she was hailed in the Hindi press as a symbol of Jain unity. One of the most obvious indicators of laity’s intimate involvement with an ascetic candidate’s withdrawal from samsara is the large sum of money required for the lavish diksha arrangements. It is a matter of great pride and honour for a community to be hosting a diksha. The diksha of Preeti Jain at Atma Vallabh Society, Delhi, I was told, cost something in the region of `5 lakhs. The official organiser of the bhagawati diksha was the Sri S. S. Jain Sabha, association of the residents of Atma Vallabh Society. Wife of the Sabha’s secretary told me, ‘the Jain samaj of Vallabh Society is strong enough to bear the costs of the diksha. We are neither short on finances, nor on bhava.’ (paise ki koi kami nahi hai, naa hi bhava ki.) As the day of the diksha approached, sants and sadhvis from Delhi and nearby places began to arrive at the Society. In addition, several grihasthas — office bearers of various Jain associations and conferences, followers of the leading mendicants of the parivar in which Preeti was to be initiated, the diksharthi’s relations, and leading Jains from Udaipur, from where Preeti hailed — also made up the guest list. On the penultimate day arrived a family from Jalandhar (Punjab). They had bid the highest and thereby won the right to present the to-be initiated ascetic with what would be her new possessions — her vastra, rajoharana and patras (clothes, whiskbroom and wooden vessels). This couple was to act as Preeti’s dharma ke maa–baap — as some kind of surrogate spiritual parents. Facilitating the diksha of someone who has vairagya bhavana may fulfil a grihastha’s spiritual yearnings. It is an act that

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Ethics of Care A 141

Plate 5.1:

Newspaper reports announcing the diksha of three young girls in Agra in the summer of 2002

Source: Amar Ujala (Agra edition), 15 October; 16 October; 17 October 2002.

earns them great labha (merit). In a way, fulfilment of this bhava and garnering of labha is dependent on one’s ability to expend money to outbid other householders. A grihastha though told me that if a family desires greatly to sponsor a diksharthi, the samaj does not allow lack of resources to stand in way; funds are raised in the local community to enable the person or family to win the bid. The role of the spiritual parents is quite central to the entire procedure: they remain at her side during the various ceremonies from mehendi to shobha yatra, to the rite proper. Though technically, it is the permission of diksharthi’s biological parents alone that is required prior to her initiation, the senior muni conducting the ritual for

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Preeti Jain sought the assent from not only her biological parents but also dharma parents and social parents — the leading men of the Jain samaj who had contributed generously towards the diksha.17

From Diksharthi to Sadhvi: Elements of a New Identity By bestowing certain external markers, a new identity is assembled for the freshly initiated through the diksha. This section investigates these signs and how they work to distinguish sadhvis from lay population through an account of Preeti Jain’s diksha in the Shraman Sangh of the Sthanakvasi sect. The following is an account of the rite of diksha, which took place on 27 April 2008 in Delhi, as recorded in my field notes. The shobha yatra returns to the Vallabh Society at around 11.30 having wound its way through the main roads of Rohini. Gradually the shravaks take their seats in a large tented hall erected in the central courtyard of the residential colony. The ascetics settle down on the high stage: sadhvis on the right and munis on the left. A lower platform on the left is packed with office bearers of the Sri S. S. Jain Sabha and other luminaries of Delhi’s Jain samaj. On the extreme right, just below the sadhvis’ stage is placed a red velvet covered chair meant for the candidate ascetic. A rectangular table is placed below the munis’ stage. I notice that the number of ascetics has swelled since the previous day of mehendi ceremony; with even two Murtipujak mendicants present onstage to bless the vairagin. Secretary of the S. S. Jain Sabha is announcing the names of those who have donated generously. Each name is called out, the amount donated announced (it varies from ` 5,100 to ` 51,000) whilst a member of the Sabha presents them with a shawl and garland. In time, Preeti is carried into the hall on a chair. A cheer rises from the audience and cries of ‘Vairagin Preeti Jain ki Jai’ are repeated. The uppravartaka urges for the programme to be begun as mahurat (auspicious hour) for vastra parivartana and diksha-path is approaching. Both sets of parents — her own and dharma — are felicitated by the samaj through the gifting of shawls, garlands and citations hailing their great sacrifice and tapasya. Finally, the girl rises to address the samaj. A ripple of excitement runs through the huge audience. She begins by 17 The Terapanthi dikshas on the other hand, given the highly centralised nature of the organisation of the sect, are mostly held in the Rajasthan town of Ladnun, which is the nucleus of the sect. Families of the diksharthis, pious Terapanthis desirous of witnessing the diksha, groups of ascetics, both male and female, converge in the town for the diksha.

Ethics of Care A 143 hailing her guruni, Uppravarttini Dr Divyaprabha sri under whom she is going to be ordained, other senior mendicants present onstage and Jain tirthankaras, the paragons of asceticism. Following a nervous bhajan, she begins her speech in earnest. ‘Today, I shall be reborn. This is the day I had been waiting for years. I find it difficult to control my happiness at the thought that the moment has finally arrived. People would always tell me that it is possible to study the dharma grantha and practice samyama at home. Why do you want to take diksha? Why not remain in samsara and do all this? I ask you, is it not possible to learn at home — why enrol in a school or college at all? I am so happy that I have been able to surmount all difficulties in my path with the inspiration of my guruni and acharya. I am grateful to you all who have supported me and given me your love and affection. My only message to you is that you should make tyaga the goal of your life. Tyagi bano, tyagi bano.’ Amidst loud sloganeering, uppravartaka announces that in an act of tyaga, the vairagin is returning the garland of currency notes, which she has been felicitated with, to the samaj. Dhanyavaad, dhanyavaad, the assembled cry out. [As an ascetic she will have no need of the money as all her material requirements, little as they will be, shall be provided by laity]. Preeti’s maternal aunt and sister-in-law help her take off the heavy garland. It strikes them that Preeti’s imminent exit from samsara and family life is finally at hand, and they are unable to control their tears. Tears are still flowing down their faces when they all bow to the mendicants and as Preeti prepares for her departure for vastra parivartana. Her dharma parents follow her, a large silver tray in their hands bearing her sadhvi possessions. In her absence, the round of felicitation and speeches resumes. Mendicants are invited to speak in order of seniority. Giving her blessings to the girl, the Murtipujak acharya reminds all that the Jain tirtha was founded not by Mahavira’s kevalgyan or nirvana (omniscience and liberation respectively), but by the acceptance of mahavratas by Indrabhuti Gautam and Chandanbala18, who established the parampara of Jain sants and sadhvis. Preeti Jain was following in the steps of Chandanbala and thus worthy of everyone’s blessings and admiration. There are other speeches and songs composed especially for the occasion. There is a flurry of excitement when the venerable Upadhyaya Hemachandra ji arrives with his contingent. All speeches are suspended momentarily. Hemachandra ji is a particularly senior 18 Indrabhuti Gautam was the first disciple of Mahavira and the foremost of his ganadharas (leader of mendicant orders); Chandanbala was the first female to be ordained as a mendicant. For her life story, see Chapter III.

144 A Escaping the World and respected monk of the Shraman Sangh and he has decided to personally bless the new sadhvi despite his physical debilitations. He is carried to the stage on a wheelchair. The sadhvis burst into a song welcoming him: Aye aye maharaj ji aye (maharaj ji has arrived!) set to a Bollywood ditty. The audience rises and ritual salutations are offered by ascetics and shravaks alike. At about one o’ clock, the vairagin returns — she is still a vairagin, not a full-fledged mendicant yet despite her change of clothes. Bridal finery has given way to a white cotton dress, a long skirt and a long scarf wrapped over her shaved head. Her clothes though white have faint orange patterns on it — once these fade away with time and wash, she will wear only pure white. Upadhyaya Ravindra muni ji welcomes the vairagin in her new vesh. Excitement rises to fever pitch as everyone in the hall attempts to get a glimpse of the girl after her vastra parivartana. Preeti is accompanied by her guru behen, a shishyaa of her guruni. She is carrying the rajoharana, a piece of cloth and a small muslin wrap containing her patras. The cloth, square in shape, is spread out on the table placed in front of the munis’ dais. Preeti performs vandana to the munis and sadhvis and settles down on the piece of cloth with her back to the audience. The uppravartaka urges her to turn around to face the samaj so that all are able to see the bliss and glow on her face. She turns around smiling widely, hands folded, and bends slightly in the direction of the audience. Another wave of slogans rises from the congregation. The uppravartaka now calls for commencing the diksha-path. He calls upon her guardians to grant her and the sadhu sangha permission for inducting her into an ascetic life. The guardians are asked to step forward in the following sequence: her own parents first; followed by her dharma parents; and finally the leading members of the Jain samaj. They walk up one by one and announce their assent, aagya hai, gurudev (she has the permission, gurudev), turning to bless the girl with raised hands one last time. Henceforth, as a mendicant, she will be the object of their venerations and not blessings. But as of now, she is still their daughter. Having received their formal permission, the uppravartaka begins to recite a series of liturgical formulae, which situate the girl in a hoary lineage of mendicants and outline the vratas which she is about to embrace and adhere to through her life. From time to time, Preeti raises her hands and moves them in a clockwise direction paying reverences to the munis and sadhvis. At the conclusion of the diksha-path, Upadhyaya Hemachandra muni is invited to bless the girl and do the sati namakaran (bestowing of a new name). He announces that vairagin Preeti is christened Sadhvi Bhavya sri. The bundle of patras and rajoharana are handed over to the upadhyaya, who drops first the rajoharana into the open hands of Bhavya sri. She receives it, tosses it over her head and twirls around in a little dance. Next

Ethics of Care A 145 she receives her patras from the upadhyaya. The uppravartaka announces that Bhavya sri will now proceed to do seva to her guruni, who will thence perform her shikha lochan (the plucking of hair by hand). There is utter chaos now and it is difficult to follow the course of events. She is led to the sadhvis’ stage among loud cries of cheer. The women surge forward to witness this. As Bhavya sri walks up to her guruni, her face writ large with joy, and bends down to do vandana, Dr Divyaprabha pulls her up in an embrace. The other sadhvis draw a makeshift curtain of white sheets for the shikha lochan. Though her hair has been shorn, a small tuft of hair at the top has been left intact for her guruni to pluck it out. It is a rapid operation and the strands collected in a tiny polythene bag. In the grand finale of the diksha, the newly initiated sadhvi sings the mangala path (the formula of auspicious blessings). According to the uppravartaka, listening to the mangala path by one whose bhavas are at the pinnacle of arousal is a harbinger of great luck and merit. With this the diksha ceremony concludes and all disperse (see Plates 5.2–7).

The ritual of diksha serves to sever a diksharthi’s relationship with her family and to incorporate her into a new one. There is, as Cort and Carrithers suggested, a reiteration during the diksha of a direct link between the present novice, her new sadhu parivar and the earliest founders of Jainism, the first disciples of Mahavira. There are three clear indicators of a sadhvi’s new status and identity which mark her off from the shravak population. The Shvetavastra

According to both Cort and Kelting, the most dramatic and crucial moment in the diksha ceremony is when the just-initiated ascetic receives the whiskbroom. This is the moment that is marked by the greatest effervescence: After some more recitations, the ordination guru tossed the broom into her hands and she danced, spinning with the broom above her head (rajoharana) — having symbolically accepted her renunciation — while everyone stood up clapping and singing […] it seemed to me at the time and upon reflection, confirmed by Cort’s research as well (1989), that the rajoharana dance was the most important part of the ordination. It was at that very moment that the whole crowd leapt up cheering and that the diksharthi began to be treated as a female mendicant.19 19

Kelting, Singing to the Jinas, p. 55.

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Plate 5.2:

A banner announcing the diksha of Preeti Jain, April 2008, New Delhi

Source: Photographed by author.

But in my observation, change of clothes, vastra parivartana, appeared to be the most crucial. It is the change of clothes that publicly marks the transformation in their status — from that of the householder to the ascetic. So vivid is the symbolism of shvetavastra that the senior muni conducting the diksha-path had to remind the audience

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Plate 5.3:

Te diksharthi Preeti Jain being taken around the neighbourhood in a shobha yatra Source: Photographed by author.

Plate 5.4: Preeti receiving instructions from a senior monk Source: Photographed by author.

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Plate 5.5:

Te newly initiated sadhvi turns towards the samaj and offers her greetings

Source: Photographed by author.

Plate 5.6:

Te newly initiated sadhvi is received by her guru behens and guruni at the conclusion of the diksha

Source: Photographed by author.

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Plate 5.7:

Preeti’s guruni plucks out a tuft of hair behind a sheet of cloth

Source: Photographed by author.

repeatedly that Preeti was still a vairagin till the conclusion of the diksha-path — despite her change of clothes. From the point of view of sadhvis too, the significance of change of clothes cannot be undermined. The Digambar brahmacharinis at Agra said that though there hearts were already transformed prior to their diksha, they still looked forward to the formal change of clothes. Even otherwise, whilst speaking of their desire to renounce, many sadhvis repeatedly emphasise their aspiration to give up their worldly clothes for the shvetavastra. It was the shvetavastra that announced their entry into the sangha. Sonal Jain, the ascetic candidate at Agra said: ‘Till 12 o’ clock tomorrow, we have these clothes, after which we would have renounced them.’ She touched her hair, ‘even this will be completely gone.’ Sadhvi Kavyaprabha of Khartar Gacch, Jaipur, identified sadhvi life with her vesh (external appearance). ‘This vesh is so important. My white clothes have the power to influence people.’ Even in their later lives, many sadhvis said, it was their simple white garb that distinguished them from the lay population, marking them

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out as objects of veneration. Sadhvi Swastiprabha of Khartar Gacch also reiterates: Such is the respect for us that even if I fall ill today there will be hundreds to look after us, to care for us, to offer us food and medicine. In grihastha, at most your family and friends will be there to look after you but our vesh (attire) attracts such great reverence. It is not as if one takes diksha for this respect that the vesh commands but the vesh is so important.

The shvetavastra comes to symbolise the power and the prestige of sadhvi life in the Jain community. A New Name

The entry into a new life and status is heralded by the renunciation of the samsaric name and the conferment of a new name. Most importantly, the new name portends the induction into a new family. Often the new name bears the lineage (samudaya) name and it is easy to decipher the mendicant pedigree through it. Other mendicant names announce their lineage allegiance by using names that start with a particular alphabet. This points to the fact that though the change of name represents a cleavage with the diksharthi’s past identity, the new identity is in no way individualistic and non-social. The new name, on the other hand, signals the entry into a new family — with the guru as the patriarch, who grants a new name. Recall, how in Preeti’s diksha, the most senior sadhu was called upon to bestow upon Preeti her new name. The mendicant is not cast adrift from all social ties but is initiated into new relationships, which mimic to a great extent the world of samsaric relations. Sadhvis’ self-perception is itself defined by allusion to the larger group they belong to (though of course this tendency is stronger among the Shvetambars) and especially with reference to their guruni and acharya. This, even while sadhvis describe their spiritual pursuits as inherently lonely and individualistic. So sadhvis at Atmanand Jain Sabha would often refer to themselves as ‘Sumangla ji ka thada’ or even more expansively as belonging to the samudaya of Acharya Vallabhsuri ji. Keshalochan: Personal and the Public

In addition to the shvetavastra of sadhvis, the most common identifying marker of a sadhvi — and indeed the male ascetic — is the locha, or keshalochana, or shikha lochan the plucking of hair by hand, though

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now many groups have sanctioned the shaving of hair too. It is an act par excellence that establishes the exit of an individual from the life of a householder to that of an ascetic. In unveiling the symbolic meaning of hair, Leach in his seminal essay, ‘Magical Hair’ writes: The sanaysin’s freedom from social obligation and his final renunciation of the sex life is symbolised by change of dress but above all by a change of hair style. According to the mode of asceticism he intends to pursue, a sanyasin either shaves off his tuft of hair or else neglects it altogether, allowing it to grow matted and lousy.20

According to Hallpike, Leach’s explicit association between hair and sexuality results in the following formula: Head = phallus Hair = semen Hair cutting = castration Long hair = unrestrained sexuality Short hair = restricted sexuality Close shaven hair = celibacy Matted hair = total detachment from sexual passions.21

It is Leach’s argument that hair behaviour and sex behaviour are ‘consciously associated from the start’. Whether matted or shaved, an ascetic’s hairstyle invariably represents celibacy — a symbol that exists at the level of custom, culture and public realm. For him, the personal biographies of nuns do not matter; ‘the association between hair behaviour and sex is not re-established anew by each individual.’22 Once laid down in the sacred texts, the meaning of matted or shaved hair has been fixed and rendered immutable. Obeyesekere’s classic study of Sinhala Buddhist female ascetics, Medusa’s Hair, has shown that an opposition between personal and public symbols may not always be sustainable. None of his subjects could associate their matted hair with genitalia, but instead located the 20 E. R. Leach, ‘Magical Hair’, The Journal of Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland, vol. 88, no. 2, 1958, p. 156. 21 C. R. Hallpike, ‘Social Hair’, Man (New Series), vol. 4, no. 2, 1969, p. 257. 22 Leach, ‘Magical Hair’, p. 156.

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emergence of the long locks in their personal experiences. Obeyesekere argues that there may not be a radical hiatus between custom and emotion, i.e., personal motivations attached to the symbol may not militate against its public nature. The fact that a symbol is related to the life experience of an ascetic does not render it into a private symbol — ‘it exists on the public level as a cultural symbol.’23 In fact, says Obeyesekere, ‘All symbols are cultural and public.’24 It is important to remember that symbols do not exist as freely floating but are implicated in a wider context, which may be either ‘personal experiential context or an institutional context’.25 We may do well to follow Obeyesekere’s distinction between ascetics who are bound by a set of rules within a formal institutional structure and those who are largely unfettered by any code of conduct. The former would be required to adhere to rules regarding dress, diet and hairstyle. These ascetics typically are obliged to keep their heads shaven. The matted-hair ascetics, who are the subjects of Obeyesekere’s study, in contrast are not bound by any such rules, and in fact choose to let their hair grow long and matted. It is the lack of choice for the ascetics who must keep their heads shaven that makes the symbol ‘psychogenetic’26 rather than personal. In the case of individualistic virtuosos, who prefer matted hair when no rule bids them to do so, the symbol becomes an intimate, personal one, linked as it is to their individual motivations. Thus it is the context which is of supreme importance in determining the nature of symbol — whether it is personal or psychogenetic, as Obeyesekere calls it. So how does this discussion square with the meaning of locha for the Jain nuns? We know that Jain ascetics are required by rule to keep their heads shaven. Some sadhvis did indeed identify locha with a process of de-sexualisation of their selves. Sadhvi Dinmani of Tapa Gacch for instance, said: ‘in our sadhvi life, we are obliged to refrain from beautifying ourselves (shobha). We must follow the path 23

Gananath Obeyesekere, Medusa’s Hair: An Essay on Personal Symbols and Religious Experience, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1981, p. 37. 24 Ibid. 25 Ibid. 26 A psychogenetic symbol is one that does not have an unconscious personal meaning but whose primary value lies in the realm of the social and interpersonal communication. Ibid., pp. 44–46.

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of brahmacharya. In our shorn state, we will not rouse any emotions and defects among others. The locha communicates the severance of all our worldly ties.’ Echoing her, Suvriti sri ji, also of Tapa Gacch, echoes Dinmani ji’s views: ‘locha becomes a means to renounce our good looks and beauty. It turns us into plain women. Who will be attracted to us without our hair?’ Though Sadhvi Dinmani and Suvriti sri’s views attest to Leach’s theory that hair is primarily a sexual symbol and that the tonsured head stands for a de-sexualised existence, purging of sexuality is not the only analyses of locha that nuns offer. Sadhvis of Khartar Gacch at Aradhna Bhawan, Jaipur, termed it a re-enactment of Mahavira’s act of renouncing his wealth at the time of his diksha, and in undertaking locha twice a year, they argued, the nuns renew their commitment to the monastic vows.27 Still others traced the prescription of locha for ascetics as a method for ensuring that no violence is resulted from the living beings that may come to reside in one’s hair. A majority of the nuns interviewed however, deemed locha to be a trial devised to test an ascetic’s endurance to bear pain. Even as some branches of the Sthanakvasis and Terapanthis now favour shaving of hair, the original method prescribed for renouncing hair is the rather painful mode of plucking of hair by hand, both by oneself and others. Indeed, it must be pointed out that though Terapanthi sadhvis are now directed to shave their hair, it is still obligatory for the male acetic to leave a small tuft of hair to be pulled out by the guru. We may quote here Hemrekha sri of Khartar Gacch, who while constructing locha as an inverse of shringara that women in the world indulge in, still retains the facility to tolerate pain as central to it: ‘Don’t you girls [we, in the samsara] wax your legs? The flesh on the legs is so soft that it hurts to pluck even one hair. And yet you girls do it to look pretty. Similarly, even though locha may be painful, we do it to expel our karmas. Your goal is different; ours is different, even though there may be pain in both.’ Whether or not locha be perceived by nuns as a mode of castration or representation of chastity, it is clear that none assigned any deep individual motivations to the practice. The rather painful procedure of plucking out hair did not emerge out of any personal experiences nor was it undertaken as a matter of personal choice; rather it was enjoined 27

Discussion with Khartar Gacch sadhvis at Aradhna Bhawan, Jaipur.

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by the monastic codes. It is a symbol that has been conventionalised and is thus explicitly public and cultural. It marks out the nuns from the laity (just as matted hair mark out its bearer at the public level) as a ‘special and redoubtable being’.28 Even though some nuns may admit in private of a rather painless method of pulling out hair, publicly it is consistent with the wider ensemble of severe ascetic practices. Hallpike accuses Leach of over-reading the sexual symbolism of shaved hair, since celibacy is only one of the many vows that an ascetic is supposed to undertake. He argues instead that it would be more rewarding to consider the shaved hair of mendicants as signifying that ‘they are under discipline’.29 Hallpike has received just criticism from Obeyesekere for fudging the context in which a particular ascetic hairstyle may develop. If we recognise the institutional context in which rules for shaven head emerge and operate, we may then see the Jain practice of locha (rather than shaven head per se, as does Hallpike) as a prime symbol of the ascetic’s adherence to monastic code — of which celibacy is one important element of course. The ascetic emphasis on controlling the body, indeed of distancing oneself from the body and bodily sensations, including pain and pleasure, places locha in the category of flagellation, whereby the body is subjected to a harsh regimen of controlled diet, fasting, walking barefoot and the like. But the point to remember would be that all this takes place in an institutional context, where a category of ascetics is required to adopt these as their lifestyle immediately after their initiation. Thus the three important markers of an ascetic life — a new name, the shvetavastra and keshalochan — work to visibly and vividly segregate ascetics from the laity, while simultaneously placing them in a wider institutional context and tradition of asceticism. But as we saw in the event of diksha, and as we shall see now, even the mendicant institutional structures are deeply intertwined with Jain householders; and it is this interaction, which sustains Jain mendicancy, especially female mendicancy. 28

Obeyesekere, Medusa’s Hair, p. 37. Hallpike, ‘Social Hair’, p. 261. Hallpike argues that the monk is not the only one who is under the discipline of institutional life who has cut his hair short. Soldiers and convicts are other examples. Though one could not say that the convict and soldier are also communicating celibacy through their cropped/shaved hair, one could safely conclude that all three are under discipline. 29

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Life of a Sadhvi Many sadhvis described their lives as a regimen of ahara, achara, vihara (diet, conduct and travel). In none of the three contexts do sadhvis function as solitary mendicants but are implicated in both the monastic institutional structure as well imbricated with the laity.

Ahara (Diet) The emphasis on non-possession (aparigraha) and injunctions against cooking — for the cooking fire would attract insects and lead to himsa — has resulted in the prescription that ascetics must survive by seeking alms from the laity. The most obvious illustration of the close relationship between the ascetics and lay followers is the gochari (literally ‘travelling like a cow’)30. It means that one picks on food here and there, collecting enough from several households, without burdening one individual or household. One Sthanakvasi sadhvi distinguished the gentle manner in which a cow grazes from the violent ways of the donkey who pulls out tufts of grass from their very roots.31 The mendicants eat to sustain themselves, and never to partake of the sensual pleasures that food may yield; for to enjoy food would be to invite karma. Nourishment must be secured through gochari in such a manner that karmas are minimised as much as possible. This is achieved by ensuring that the donor has not indulged in any form of violence whilst cooking, nor by cooking especially for the mendicants. Thus there should ideally be an element of surprise and serendipity in the mendicants’ visit for gochari or bhikshachari. Householders must not be expecting ascetics to visit them — they must part with either leftovers or a portion of whatever is available or cooked at home at the moment. Conversely, it implies that the mendicant must not set off to seek food with any desires or expectations, indifference being another key element of gochari. Dependent as they are on the lay samaj for their survival, ascetics are never seen as begging for food. On the contrary, they are perceived to transfer merit (labha) to donors by accepting food from their hands and 30

John E. Cort, Jains in the World: Religious Values and Ideologies in India, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2001, p. 106. 31 Bharati sri ji, Jain Mahila Sthanak, Vir Nagar,Delhi.

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kitchens. Let me briefly describe gochari practice among Terapanthi nuns from my field notes: There were about a dozen sadhvis staying at Surana House in Jaipur. Suranas are prominent jewellers in Jaipur, who had converted a part of their home into residence for sadhvis for the period of chaturmas. The elderly or otherwise senior sadhvis remain behind and the younger nuns pack the wooden vessels fashioned out of coconut shells and bottle gourds into a white muslin sack. The thin sack is like a cylinder and the vessels can be placed one atop each other. Four sadhvis pack vessels for collecting food, and three carry the largish wooden pots for fetching water. These vessels have been produced by the nuns themselves who have decorated these pots and dishes with bright beautiful colours, even embellishing them with dainty designs (see Plate 5.8). The nuns then head out. This is a predominantly, if not wholly Jain neighbourhood (and a wealthy one at that). There are women standing at the gates beckoning the nuns to partake of some food from their kitchen. The women fold their hands, and venerate the sadhvis by touching their foreheads on the ground. They get up and say, Maharaj sahib, hamen labha dein, kuch lein (Kindly take something from us, grant us merit). The nuns then ask: ‘Did you cook anything extra to feed us?’ The women nod in the negative and the nuns enter the house, going into the kitchen and taking out their vessels. This is repeated about six times, with sadhvis putting different foods in different vessels: chapatis in one, lentils in another, and vegetable in the third, and so on. When they think that they have collected enough food for all sadhvis, they return back to Surana House. Once there, the nuns withdraw to an inner room, out of view of any householder or visitor to eat their meal.

Here is another scene from Jain Vir Nagar Colony in north Delhi. Here the Sthanakvasi sadhvis headed by Kesar maharaj have been in residence for several years now. Again, this is a residential area with near 100 per cent Jain population. The procedure of collection is almost identical, except for slight differences. Two younger sadhvis set out with their muslin bag of vessels flung over their shoulders. The vessels are made of wood and varnished shining brown. They head purposefully towards a lane and enter the first house. No women wait here at the gate. They enter the ground floor house, but it appears that the lady of the house has been expecting them. She rises and bows her head to the nuns saying: mathena vandanami, padharo (I venerate thee, welcome). The two nuns follow her into the kitchen and she pours out helpings of the

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Plate 5.8: A Terapanthi nun with her vessels Source: Photographed by author.

food to them. She urges them to have a special dish she has cooked today. The nuns take a ladleful of each and head out, but not before chatting up with the woman, asking after her children, etc. The nuns then climb up the stairs to the second floor. The woman rushes forth and performs the guru vandana to the nuns. It is an ancient Prakrit formula which is recited when mendicants are venerated.

158 A Escaping the World Text of the formula is as follows: Tikkhuto Aayahinum, Payaahinum Karemi, Vandaami Namaamsaami Sakkaaremi, Sammaanemi Kayanam, Mangalam Deviyam, Cheiyam Pujjuvaasaami Matthena Vandami.32 (I notice that in the first home, the grihasthini had not recited the full formula, restricting herself to the shorter mathena vandanami.) Having collected some food from this household, the two sadhvis then move to the next house, ending with the last house in this lane. While walking back to the sthanak, householders stop to greet and bow to them. They arrive back in the sthanak and retire to a room at the back.

Meals are eaten in an inner room, away from the eyes of the visitors, and finished rather quickly, as if to avoid lingering over the taste or aroma of food.33 It is a business that must be gotten over with in order to attend to the more serious spiritual tasks at hand. Indeed, mendicants impose strict restrictions on the kinds of food they may accept or even the kind of donor who is worthy of receiving 32

The formula for guru vandana may be translated as:

Three times, I circumambulate from right side, Venerate, Bow and Welcome thee. Honour thee, Thou are beneficent, Thou are auspicious. Thou are divine, Thou are possessor of right Knowledge. I serve thee, and Bowing my head, I venerate thee. 33 Jainism has evolved a particularly elaborate dietary code, both for its laity and ascetics. Across cultures, gastronomical indulgences have come to be slotted with sensual excess. And for this very reason, visceral appetites need to be controlled and governed by rules. Traditionally in India (and elsewhere too), certain categories of food have been proscribed or prescribed for certain groups of people: the Hindu widow for instance was barred from eating onions, garlic and spices, commonly regarded as ‘hot’ foods. The end of conjugality — and sexual life — also signalled the rupture with all earlier practices that celebrated her auspicious married and fecund status. It must be ensured that her sexual appetite remains ‘cool’ through the intake of bland food. Thus the experience of eating is much more than merely combating hunger; it is pushed into the cultural zone of sense gratifying experiences. Jain rules of mendicant conduct on the other hand strive to reduce the business of eating to the question of physical survival, stripping it of all pleasure, first by warning mendicants not to ‘lust’ after aromatic foods, sweet smelling fruits and so on, and then by even denying them the pleasure afforded by act of chewing or swirling the food around in the mouth in order to partake of its full flavour: ‘A male or female mendicant eating food […] should not shift (the morsel) from the left jaw to the right jaw, nor from the right jaw to the left jaw, to get a fuller taste (of it) — aspiring to freedom from bonds. See Acharanga Sutra, Book I, Lecture 7, Lesson 6, p. 71.

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aharadana from. The minimum expectation is khaan-paan shuddhi (that is, donors should adhere strictly to the Jain dietary code). In addition, Digambar mendicants impose other conditions on a daily basis, vowing to accept food only if these conditions are met. Aryika Jina Devi in Gurgaon told me that Digambar mendicants, both male and female, vow to remain hungry unless all rules for accepting gochari are scrupulously followed. The giver of the food must possess three virtues: • Mann shuddhi (purity of mind): the almsgiver must be free of negative thoughts. • Vachan shuddhi (purity of speech): no harsh words should be spoken by the almsgiver. If there are cries of children or sounds of quarrels emanating from the house or some bad news, we do not accept gochari. • Kaya shuddhi (purity of body): the almsgiver must be free of illnesses or defects like extra fingers on his/her limbs, etc. He/she must not have undergone operations or blood transfusion, for instance. The almsgiver must have a blemish-free character, i.e., should possess no bad habits such as drinking alcohol; and follow the correct path prescribed for the Jain laity such as visiting the temple regularly, renunciation of evening meal, etc. When Digambar nuns go out on their daily round, women stand at their gates and beckon them to have gochari at their place. They announce that they have taken the pratigya and fulfil the three criteria of mann shuddhi, vachan shuddhi and kaya shuddhi and that their ahara is shuddha. Some female householders told me that often their entreaties went unanswered because the mendicant that day had undertaken particular vows: such as accepting food only at a house where she could spot a mother and child, or a certain kind of tree and so on. These harsh and arbitrary restrictions were meant to test one’s endurance, a means to perfecting the ascetic austerities and also a guarantor of gochari as serendipitous practice. Unlike Shvetambar ascetics, where the senior most nuns and munis may leave the task of seeking gochari to their junior colleagues who return to their quarters with their collections in the wooden patras, Digambar ascetic discipline demands that all mendicants — including

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aryikas and brahmacharinis — receive their food in pani-patra (i.e., upturned palms) and eat their food immediately at receiving it.34 Another striking difference between the Shvetambar and Digambar mode of venerating the ascetics is that among the latter, the veneration mimics the manner a puja is carried out in the temple: coconuts and incense are placed in front of the ascetic after the meal by shravaks. Both munis and aryikas are equally the objects of worship. One important difference between the gochari of a Digambar muni and an aryika or brahmacharini is that while the muni always partakes his meal standing, the aryika is required to sit during her meal in recognition of the greater capacities of the male mendicant. There may be deviations occasionally. A group of Digambar nuns were resident in R. K. Puram in south Delhi, to spend the chaturmas of 2008. Here, in place of seeking gochari from house to house, shravaks would come to the Digambar Jain Temple, where the nuns were staying and cook meals for them in the bhojanashala within the temple premises. At around 11 o’ clock in the forenoon, the nuns would be requested to step down from the quarters on the first floor to visit the bhojanashala for their solitary meal of the day.35 Reciprocity in Aharadana

On account of their scruples regarding accepting gochari, Jains distinguish mendicants from beggars. It is laymen who urge ascetics to accept their hospitality, and mendicants who test them for their worthiness as donors. Can we discern as relationship of reciprocity between mendicants and laity in the practice of gochari? While mendicants are dependent upon the laity for physical sustenance and survival, the grihastha are also eager to feed the mendicants. Jonathan Parry has demonstrated that the prestations involved under the category of dana are devoid of the principle of reciprocity. Speaking specifically of the technical ritualist, the Brahmin, he demonstrates how the gift is stained by the sins of the donor, and how the recipient comes to ingest the sin thus transferred with the gift. Rather than involve reciprocity in gift giving as Mauss stressed, Parry insists that the gift giver hopes 34 The Digambars eat once a day only. Everyday after their meal, they vow to renounce food for the next 24 hours. 35 Based on observations and interviews with Aryika Chandramati at R. K. Puram Digambar Jain Temple in July 2008.

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to terminate the relationship with it, alienating the gift (along with the sin), in an ‘absolute way’.36 This denial of reciprocity becomes a source of extreme peril. Parry refutes the suggestion that the donor is promised deliverance from sin (papa) in exchange of the gift he makes to the Brahmin. The Brahmins of today, he reports, are widely believed to be incapable of releasing the donor from his sins, thus rendering dana an unreciprocated gift.37 But we shouldn’t forget that Parry’s discussion focuses on ritual specialists who are embedded in the world of caste and its concomitant relations of dependency. Even so, the Brahmin derives his moral authority from his claims of being a representative of the otherworldly ascetic. Parry himself, it must be noted, makes a distinction between the gifts received by the Brahmins and the alms received by an ascetic. The latter have none of the moral dangers associated with the former, because, he writes echoing Dumont, ‘such prestations are given to the renouncer, with whom no relationship is possible since he is outside the world’ [emphasis added].38 Again, on account of the ascetic’s inability and disinterest in maintaining relationships of exchange, the gifts to him are never reciprocated. The crucial point to note is that in both the instances — that of the ritual specialists and the ascetics — the donor gets nothing in return for the gift he makes. And indeed, this is how it should be for a ‘true gift must be given without any expectation in return.’39 Cort in his study of the Shvetambars of Patan (in Gujarat) makes a distinction between the model of dana in Hinduism as constructed 36 Jonathan Parry, Death in Benaras, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984, p. 133. 37 According to Parry, the Brahmin engages in cynical bargaining over fixing the dana. Our mendicants, we have seen on the other hand, diverge in the other direction: haggling to reduce the portion of their aharadana, or rejecting the rich foods offered to them, settling only for the simplest of meals. Indeed one young sadhvi in Jaipur rued gochari as one of the most difficult parts of her daily routine because one should not leave any leftovers (for microbes would turn it into a playground of himsa). ‘We have to finish everything we find in our bowls. So we must be careful in accepting food. We should not accept what we cannot finish.’ 38 Jonathan Parry, ‘On the Moral Perils of Exchange’, in J. Parry and M. Bloch (eds), Money and the Morality of Exchange, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989, p. 77. 39 Jonathan Parry, ‘The Gift, the Indian Gift and the “Indian Gift”’, Man (New Series), vol. 21, no. 3, 1986, p. 466.

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by Parry, and his own observations of such transactions among the Jains. If the dana to ritual specialists transmits sin from donor to recipient, feeding Jain mendicant accrues merit to the donor. Figure 5.1: Comparing Hindu and Jain transactions HINDU Donor (papa -)

(dana)

recipient (papa +)

JAIN Donor (papa +) (punya ++)

(dana)

recipient (no change)

Cort writes of Jain transactions:

The Jains seem to operate in a different transactional universe, where the ascetic and renunciatory powers of the mendicant to wear away karma (karma-nirjara) allow for the generation of auspicious karma by the layman’s actions. […] The powers of the mendicant result in a network wherein new auspiciousness can be created and inauspiciousness can be destroyed, not just transferred. This seems to be an inherent property of the Jain religion…40

Cort, unlike Parry, then renders the relationship between the ascetic and the lay donor a reciprocal one (since gift giving results in accrual of merit), without really specifying as such. Both textual prescriptions and the practice of gochari as it exists point to the fact that laity wishes to gain merit through aharadana to the ascetics. Thus mutual dependence between the laity and mendicants is inscribed into the very act of aharadana. Such reciprocity has wide-reaching implications for entry of women into ascetic orders. As noted earlier, gochari ideally encapsulates the notion of coincidence, chance and even a possibility of going hungry. But in reality, gift of food to mendicant is often structured and planned. Take for instance the sadhvis’ gochari in Vir Nagar. A wholly Jain neighbourhood, it has about 250 Jain households, spread over its nine lanes. Because the nuns have been living at the Mahila Sthanak here for 40

Cort, Jains in the World, p. 110.

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past several years, households in each lane have been assigned particular days of the week. Therefore, I saw no women at the gates beckoning the nuns to their homes; the nuns went straight to the homes of those whose turn it happened to be that particular day. Even elsewhere, where the sadhvis’ stay is more intermittent, for instance at the sthanak at Kolhapur Road, Delhi, a female householder told me: We know roughly which day maharaj sahib will come [to our home]. If they have visited us today, we don’t expect them tomorrow, or the day after. If we hear maharaj sahib is unwell, we will sometimes cook light food like khhichdi (gruel) so that we may be able to offer it if they come to our place for gochari.

Moreover, in mohallas with a mixed population, or when nuns have recently arrived in a neighbourhood with which they are not familiar, employees of the shravak sangha or the sthanak or upashraya, or even some shravaks may accompany them on their collection round and guide them to Jain households. Gochari has also become structured partly because of the fact that while mendicant rules require them to conclude the business of eating well before sunset, the pressures of modern urban life have pushed the meal times of most Jain families to much later.41 So in fact, most mendicants would have finished their gochari before householders have had their meals, and before the possibility of leftovers has materialised. Some laywomen told me that it was common for many Jain families to cook extra food if a group of Jain mendicants was in residence in their neighbourhood. The elimination of spontaneity and chance factor in receiving gochari, i.e., the assurance of physical sustenance, precipitates the induction of women into an ascetic life. A Khartar Gacch sadhvi in Jaipur told me: We are not worried about the evening’s meal. If we are not even worried about our dinner, we would not mull over the future. In your world, people obsess about how much they have earned and saved, but we know we can beg for our next meal…

Recall that permission of the girl’s family is essential for the granting of diksha to her. It is unlikely that parents would approve of their 41

In conversation with Sadhvi Subhasha ji, Sthanakvasi sect, Gurgaon.

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daughters entering a world marked by unpredictability. Jain monasticism, owing to its highly organised character, offers comfort and assurance to parents about the future of their daughters. So the vision gochari practice evokes should be less of solitary wandering sadhvis adventurously venturing out in search of alms, unsure if they will receive the day’s rations; on the contrary, there is little left to chance and fate, with mendicancy’s deep inter-linkages with the samaj ensuring that ascetics’ lives are marked by a predictable flow. Gendering Reciprocity: An Economy of Merit

Now, there is an issue that arises out of the discussion on merit and dana. If dana to a mendicant brings merit to the donor, the quantum of merit to be gained varies according to the gender of the mendicant. The order of precedence laid down by Hemachandra in Yogashastra clearly places sadhus prior to sadhvis. The gains to be seized by giving dana to a sadhu are far greater than that to be derived by donating to a sadhvi. Cort in his fieldwork in Patan found that lay Jains begrudged sadhvis’ presence in their neighbourhood, preferring to serve and donate to sadhus. This is a view that requires greater scrutiny, impinges as it does directly on the fate of the Jain nunneries. In her study of Buddhist nuns in Zangskar in the Tibetan plateau, Gutschow shows the dramatic inequities in the support extended to monasteries of monks and nuns.42 While monks enjoyed active patronage from their kin group and community, the life of nuns was characterised by impoverishment, hard labour, even starvation. Even as Buddhist renunciation espouses the value of non-reciprocity, the practice of renunciation is sustained on mutual exchanges of services and goods: the monks offering ritual services and the kin group providing material assistance. But once the monk is established in his religious career, the returns are high. Nuns, who are deemed incompetent as ritual specialists, can only offer their menial services in exchange for the barest means of subsistence. A Tibetan proverb sums up the glaring disparity thus: ‘If you want a 42 She uses the phrase ‘economy of merit’ to designate this inequality. See Kim Gutschow, ‘How Buddhist Renunciation Produces Differences’, in Meena Khandelwal, Sondra L. Hausner and Ann Grodzins Gold (eds), Nuns, Yoginis, Saints and Singers: Women’s Renunciation in South Asia, Delhi: Zubaan, 2007, p. 235.

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servant, make your daughter a nun. If you want to serve, make your son a monk.’43 Thus, inequality is written into the relations of reciprocity in the case of these Buddhist nuns from Tibet. Does the sentiment cited by Cort hint at a similar disparity in Jain asceticism? Cort is writing about the Tapa Gacch, among whom he worked extensively and admits that this might not be true of the other sects of Jains. Nuns are considered burdensome on account of their ritual uselessness, also one of the prime reasons ascribed for the low social and economic status of Buddhist nuns. But whether Jain nuns are ritually useless or valuable would be answered best if we survey the activities nuns are allowed normatively, and the activities they do undertake.

Achara (Conduct) The Jain meaning of conduct subsumes the totality of practices that a mendicant engages in and is central to the project of renunciation and salvation. According to Jain thought, it is possible to triumph over the tendencies that grip one to the cycle of bondage by developing a triad of three jewels (ratnatraya): true insight (samyak-darshana), right knowledge (samyak-gyan) and proper conduct (samyak-charitra). Proper conduct would entail strict adherence to the five mahavratas, severe penances and austerities, and turning inwards to work for one’s soul (as many sadhvis described it). There must be a scrupulous observance of the vow of ahimsa, for violence results from the most mundane of activities. The nuns therefore observe pratilekhna, a careful examination of the folds of their clothes for any little organism nestling therein every morning and even when they sit down or change position; refrain from bathing everyday;44 walk extremely gingerly to avoid stepping over anything alive and so on. The conduct of sadhvis must reflect their withdrawal from the world: maximum time should be devoted to expunging the traces of karma 43

Ibid., p. 229. All groups follow the rules of toilet to avoid incurring any himsa, though of course some are more stringent in adhering to them than the others. Though now, modern toilets are fitted in most upashrayas or sthanaks, many nuns like Mamta maharaj (Tapa Gacch) insist on following the traditional practice of using a bowl and then disposing it off in a pit or ground some distance from habitation. This minimises the risk of inflicting any himsa on microbial beings. 44

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from their soul. At a practical level, this translates into engaging in samayika45, pratikramana46 and swadhyaya.47 Pratikramana is especially central to the Jain way of life. Its importance was described by a Sthanakvasi sadhvi: It is a japa. It is self-criticism at the feet of the guru. We meditate either sitting or standing. Pratikramana is seeking repentance for any misdeeds we might have committed during the day, either knowingly or unknowingly. Like a cloth that becomes stained during the day and is washed in the evening, so too our souls must be cleansed every evening of all bad feelings that we may have harboured during the day, such as jealousy, ill-feeling, hatred, anger, criticism, or I may have praised an unworthy person. This is also important since we interact with the householders during the day.48

Conduct thus subsumes not just actions but also thoughts. Proper conduct requires the purging of all thoughts that may arouse in the mendicant emotions like jealousy, hatred or passion (raga, dvesha) for such feelings are the source of dangerous karma. For this reason, the same sadhvi averred, mendicants prefer to stay aloof from the laity, meeting them only for brief periods in a day. Interaction with householders will likely give rise to karma-inducing thoughts, thus it has been advised to limit one’s dealings with them. Day to day activities however do bring them in close contact with grihastha. Ritual Value of Sadhvis

In none of the groups I met did I encounter the ritual worthlessness of the nuns. Most groups had at their centre a senior and charismatic nun — a veritable magnet for the lay samaj. Cort’s citation of the feeling among the Tapa Gacch laity that sadhvis were ritually useless and hence a drain on the resources does not appear to be true, at least for the groups I interacted with. The nuns in Cort’s study appear fleetingly, if at all, and their activities are restricted to the inner recesses of their upashrayas, rarely participating in the ritual life of the community in 45 A state of calmness, and sinlessness of mind and speech. Usually 48 minutes for householders and a lifetime for sadhus and sadhvis. 46 The term pratikramana refers to the general and regular religious ritual obligations of Jains involving confession. The Pratikramana Sutras occupy a central place in the religious traditions of Jains. See Kendall W. Folkert, Scripture and Community, pp. 91–94. 47 Self-study of the Agamas and other religious literature. 48 Sadhvi Subhasha, Sthanakvasi sect, interviewed by author, Jain Girls’ School, Gurgaon.

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any significant manner. During my fieldwork, on the other hand, nuns appeared as robust characters in the life of the community. The religious calendar of Jains is crowded around the months of chaturmas when mendicants are available in the neighbourhood to guide the laity on these matters and to supervise the occasions. Some of the key festivals are Paryusan, Oli, Diwali, Mahavira Jayanti, Arkhi Teej and so on. Each of these calls for special sermons by mendicants, who usually focus on these occasions, on the significance of the festival and reconciling it to fundamental Jain values. Since festivals are times of vigorous religious activity, mendicants observe even greater austerities than usual; the laity suspends their normal dietary habits, paying greater attention to codes enjoined by their faith. This period thus sees many fasts (upvasa) over varying lengths. The fixing of the length and days (kram) is usually done in consultation with mendicants, especially if communal ayambila49 meals are being cooked for the pious ones. In addition to this are the daily sermons and special longer ones on weekends, when the audience is much larger. What role do the sadhvis play in this? In my observation, nuns delivered sermons, an important religious activity, which naturally gains intensity during the period of chaturmas when sadhus and sadhvis are in residence in a locality. The Digamabars have a hoary tradition of pravachanas by its female ascetics, confirmed Aryika Chandramati: ‘Brahmi, Sundari, Chandana gave sermons. So in our parampara, we have always done so.’50 Indeed her daily sermons at the R. K. Puram (Delhi) Digambar temple attracted huge crowds even during weekdays. The pravachana concluded with her disciple, Dakshamati mata ji — herself a powerful orator — announcing the niyama (rule) for the day, which all householders in attendance were expected to follow. These varied from a prohibition on looking at one’s reflection in the mirror for a day, to renouncing spices, and so on. That these niyamas were taken seriously by the laity was evident from the fact that after the pronouncement of the rule of avoiding the mirror for a day, several men rushed to the venerable nun, seeking her permission to look at the rear view mirror of their cars. 49

Ayambila means sour-tasting food such as barley gruel, boiled meal, etc. Brahmi and Sundari were the daughters of Rishabhanath, the first tirthankara, who took ordination as nuns. Chandana is of course the first woman to be ordained as a nun under Mahavira. 50

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During the sermons the nuns also announced that they expected the shravaks to renounce meals after dark, at least during the chaturmas. ‘You should become true Jain shravaks for these four months. We insist on shuddha (pure) aharadana. You will have to renounce potatoes and all roots during these four months if you wish to give us aharadana.’51 It is true that there was no established tradition of sadhvis delivering pravachanas among the Shvetambars. This is a reform introduced as recently as six decades ago — the legendary Khartar Gacch sadhvi, Vichaksa ji, being the pioneer in this field.52 According to many sadhvis, it was the power of her charisma and oratory that led many achrayas to recognise the potential of the sadhvi samaj, thus paving the way for lifting the taboo on sermons by sadhvis. There are some samudayas where the guru has granted permission to sadhvis to deliver pravachanas to an exclusively female audience. Be as that may, pravachanas by sadhvis are no longer considered a rarity, nor looked upon with horror and surprise. This is also true of the Tapa Gacch, of which Cort is writing. One must take into consideration that Cort’s fieldwork is based in Patan, a prominent Shvetambar pilgrimage town. Given its importance in the Shvetambar spiritual geography, it is likely to attract many leading sadhus and their samudayas. From Cort’s descriptions it appears that several groups of male mendicants take residence in Patan every chaturmas. Many others would be visiting the town for pilgrimage or passing through it en route to another town or city. In the presence of sadhus, sadhvis have far fewer opportunities to deliver sermons or participate in any meaningful way in the public ceremonies of the community. In Delhi on the other hand, the Tapa Gacch sadhvis (and this is valid for sadhvis of other sects too), unencumbered by the presence of male ascetics, took charge of the community’s religious affairs. At the Atmanand Jain sabha, for instance, a relatively younger sadhvi, Mamta maharaj, was singled out for delivering the sermons. Elsewhere too, I found sadhvis giving pravachanas on an everyday basis as well as on special occasions. The Sthanakvasi sadhvis at 51 Dakshamati mata ji. Speech at the kalasha sthapna ceremony, R. K. Puram Digambar Jain temple, New Delhi. 52 Based on interviews with various sadhvis from Tapa Gacch in Delhi and Khartar Gacch sadhvis in Moti Dungri, Jaipur.

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Vir Nagar had fixed the life stories of the 24 tirthankaras as the theme of their lectures. On first day of the month, therefore, the senior sadhvis would narrate the story of the first tirthankara, Adinath or Rishabh, and so on and so forth. These stories were used to edify and to provide moral and spiritual nourishment to the grihastha. The remainder five–six days of the month were devoted to general themes pertaining to Jain values and morals, the duties of shravaks, etc. Indeed, the sermons had a deep impact on the householders who came in to listen to the sadhvis. One woman especially, about 40-years-old, a regular at the sthanak, seemed to be particularly moved. She would sit by the side of maharaj sahib and query her endlessly. Here is a snippet of conversation between the two: Shravika: ‘Maharaj sahib, when you talk about Mahavira Swami, I really wish, I could have been born when he was around. I so wish that I could have seen him, venerated him…’ Sadhvi ji: ‘My child, why wish for that? You can arouse Mahavira inside you. You can become Mahavira yourself. You should follow the path of Jain dharma sincerely and you can do that.’

On the occasion of Mahavira Jayanti (or panchakalyanak samaroh which commemorates the five auspicious occasions of Mahavira’s life), I only saw sadhvis delivering pravachanas and presiding over puja (worship). Things become complicated when both sadhus and sadhvis are present in the same neighbourhood. At Gurgaon, for instance, the Sthanakvasi sadhvis did not deliver any pravachanas, leaving this to the senior monks who they had been travelling with. One Sthanakvasi sadhvi complained that in the presence of munis, sadhvis were expected to remain mere ‘show pieces’ at pravachanas, registering only their presence, never delivering sermons.53 The Tapa Gacch sadhvis at Roop Nagar, Delhi, on the other hand, being the only group of mendicants in the neighbourhood, came to be solely responsible for the spiritual well being of the laity. It was of no consequence that Sthanakvasis are considered more progressive and reformist than Tapa Gacch, especially on matters concerning sadhvis. The taboo on sadhvi pravachana may have eased in part 53

In conversation with Dr Manju sri, Lawrence Road Sthanak, Delhi.

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because of the miniscule number of male mendicants as compared to the high numbers of female renouncers. A ban on pravachanas by female renouncers may deprive the laity of religious sermons and obstruct the propagation of Jainism. When I told some residents of Atma Vallabh Society that I knew Subhasha ji, they exclaimed how they were eagerly looking forward to her chaturmas in their Society, as they were all ‘great fans of Subhasha ji. Her pravachanas are like honey — really sweet.’ A female householder told me that whether sadhvis will deliver pravachana in sadhus’ presence depends on the monks’ grace and generosity: there are some monks who encourage the sadhvis to do so, and others who consider it their privilege and prerogative.54 At a diksha samaroh in Rohini, Delhi, which naturally attracted a great number of mendicants, both male and female, sadhvis were invited to speak as much as munis were. There were about 12 munis and roughly 15 sadhvis present at the diksha. While only the most senior munis addressed the audience, even junior sadhvis presented songs composed especially for the occasion. Besides pravachanas, there are a host of ritual activities that a Jain nun may undertake. They are called upon to recite the mangala path (auspicious blessings) by laity at their homes on important occasions. This was often the case at Vir Nagar Sthanak. Not only would the sadhvis conclude their sermons with mangala path, laity who visit the sadhvis after the pravachanas or during the day, would also ask the sadhvis, especially senior ones like Kaushalya ji to recite the mangala path specifically for them. The shravaks would stand besides the sadhvi, hands folded and eyes closed, and listen to the mangalika. There would also be requests to bless the sick and ailing. While I was staying at the Atmanand Jain Sabha, the Tapa Gacch sadhvis received a request to bless an aged man who had been hospitalised. I was dispatched with Mamta maharaj to visit him in the nursing home not far from the upashraya. We walked to the nursing home, the young sadhvi barefoot on the blistering concrete road, and I in my chappals. We reached the nursing home and the family members of the patient were waiting at the gate to receive us. We were ushered inside, whereupon Mamta maharaj sprinkled a small amount of scented powder (vaskepa) 54 Conversation with Mrs Jain, wife of the Secretary of Shri S. S. Sabha at Atma Vallabh Society, Rohini, Delhi.

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as blessings. This was done from a distance because there is a strict prohibition on any touch between the mendicants and members of the opposite sex.55 The special pujas and paths conceived by the Digambar Aryika Chandramati ji were considered particularly efficacious and even endowed with extraordinary powers. One incident in particular was cited by lay Digambars as proof of her powers: many years ago when the aryika was resident in Sitapur (Rajasthan), thieves broke into the temple to steal ancient Mahavira idols. But while escaping, they dropped one idol whose head was severed from the body. Aryika Chandramati instructed that the fracture be fastened with a paste of clarified butter and sugar and kept in a sealed container. She organised the chanting of Namaskar mantra for seven continuous days. On the eighth day, when the idol was taken out of the container, it was found to have been miraculously repaired! The aryika’s reputation as a bearer of miraculous powers was built on this incident. It was narrated at the kalasha sthapna ceremony — an elaborate and public rite which installs a mendicant or a group of mendicants at particular residence during the chaturmas — at the Digambar Jain Temple in south Delhi. This had the effect of ensuring large attendance at the various pujas she organised subsequently. Another important ritual duty is the ordination of a new sadhvi recruit into the order. Technically, the diksha-path, which formally inducts a candidate into mendicancy is read out by the senior most mendicant, usually a male. Nonetheless, sadhvis play a pivotal role through the entire procedure — in assisting the diksharthi, giving pravachanas, singing bhajans, and adding to the religious fervour of the event (see earlier sections of this chapter). Many sadhvis admitted that though a prohibition does not exist on sadhvis giving diksha, they preferred if it was presided over by an ‘elder’.56 Though not a norm, the Sthanakvasi diksha I witnessed in Agra did not involve a male mendicant at all, presided over as it was by Acharya Chandana. 55 Thus even little boys who would accompany their parents or grandparents for a visit to maharaj ji would bow and offer their venerations from a distance. Once, a boy of about 5–6 years of age, encouraged by her grandmother to offer vandana to maharaj ji (Sumangla ji of Tapa Gacch), walked up to her, almost touching her feet, received ample rebuke from his grandmother for not knowing the basic etiquette of venerating sadhvis. 56 ‘When elders are present, why should we take on the responsibility?’ This was a common refrain.

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Prafullprabha, a Tapa Gacch sadhvi said that it was not always possible for sadhus to be present on all ritual occasions, and a sadhvi enjoyed the right to conduct these ceremonies autonomously. As an aside, it will be interesting to note the inscriptions from medieval Tamil Nadu record nuns as donors of grants for temples and installations of images.57 In fact, their role as donors appears to be much more important than it was for monks. This is surely startling, since by definition, Jain mendicants are bound by the vow of aparigraha (non-possession). But what is even more striking is that these nuns’ donation was not geared to gaining merit for themselves, but to transfer the merit — aroused as a result of their dana — to other persons. And as it turns out, all the designated recipients of this merit were men, either their preceptors or male relatives. We are thus returned to the ideology wherein women’s religious activities are directed for the welfare — spiritual or worldly — of men and their families rather than focusing on their own religious aspirations. But to me, this inscriptional evidence also attests to two other conclusions: first, that nuns were never absent even in the Digambar tradition, and indeed the numerous references to them as teachers and donors indicates their importance within it; second, it directs our attention to the worldly activities of mendicants, which allowed them in the first place access to wealth to donate, and deep social and personal bonds, which determines the direction in which they wish to transfer the merit of their donation. If there is one activity that is proscribed for nuns, it is prana pratishtha (installation of an image, but refers specifically to that rite through which life comes to reside in the statue. Only then does a statue become a symbol of the Jina, thus worthy of veneration). Only monks enjoy the authority to preside over the elaborate rites of establishing and consecrating new idols of Jina. Nuns may only be present in the audience. For Digambars, the special mantras for the rite can only be chanted by those who have renounced clothes — no vesh-dhari (clothed) is allowed to do so, which immediately disqualifies nuns. 57 Leslie C. Orr, ‘Jain and Hindu Religious Women in Early Tamil Nadu’, in John E. Cort (ed.), Open Boundaries: Jain Communities and Cultures in History, New York: State University of New York, 1998, pp. 187–212. Orr uses the term religious women rather than nuns. Medieval Tamil Nadu was Digambar territory and thus the recognition of full-scale female mendicants was scant.

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Again, this would hold true of only image worshipping groups; this difference would mean little to Sthanakvasis for instance. Furthermore, we can overrule the possibility of the erosion of this dictum over time, just as pravachanas were once an exclusively male mendicant domain, but no longer so. But for now, we can be sure that nuns are by no means ritually dispensable, nor a burden to the community. Relationship between Nuns and Laity

While the daily routines and the activities prescribed to them bring sadhvis into close interaction with the laity — and for this reason, sadhvis’ presence is welcomed in a neighbourhood — conversely, the assurance of material sustenance and support from laity allows sadhvis to engage in activities of atma kalyana sans anxiety. Sadhvis spend at least a part of her day meeting with lay householders instructing them in Jain values and religion. Subhasha ji’s group had arrived in Gurgaon for chaturmas for the first time and lay samaj was largely unknown to them. Yet, the stream of visitors would rarely cease through the day. The laywomen would enquire after sadhvis who had stayed in their neighbourhood on earlier occasions. Sadhvis in turn would make enquiries about their families and their daily routines in order to assess how good (or bad) they were as Jains. I often saw them testing their commitment to the Jain faith by asking them simple questions: what is the best time to eat? What foods should be avoided? What does the swastika signify? Many laywomen would seek sadhvis’ advice on ritual matters such as fasting, worshipping, inviting sadhvis to their homes. The newly arrived nuns were also planning a workshop for instructing children in the basics of Jainism. Grihastha often display their commitment to the faith by asking their young children or grandchildren to recite the Namaskar mantra and guru vandana to the nuns. The nuns would often ask about people who were absenting themselves from pravachanas. I often heard parents explaining to nuns that hectic business activities was keeping their sons away, or how someone was too ill to attend the pravachanas or visit the nuns for darshana. In turn, the nuns, upon hearing of someone’s illness would make enquiries about their health from neighbours or relatives. If there is intense interaction between lay Jains and sadhvis, the relationship between laywomen and sadhvis is even more intimate. It

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comes to be imbued with especial warmth if sadhvis have been stationary in a neighbourhood for a considerable length of time. This was fairly evident at the Atmanand Jain Sabha, where Tapa Gacch’s Sumangla ji’s group had been in residence for many months owing to her illness. There was an easy familiarity between sadhvis and local Jain women. The latter would routinely visit the Sabha in early forenoon (‘after finishing the domestic chores’, as one laywoman put it). Generally, they would first go to Sumangla ji, she being the senior-most nun, to seek her blessings. It should be noted that this veneration lacks a personalised character; it is a ritual that is not directed to an individual mendicant but to the ritual personage worthy of veneration. But shravikas do forge more personalised relations with some nuns. These laywomen would then spend greater time with that nun, chatting on a range of matters, from spiritual to the most mundane. This included neighbourhood news and even the turns and twists of television soap operas. I once found Prafullprabha ji animatedly discussing the story of a television serial with a woman from the neighbourhood. A Hindi newspaper published the storyline of the serial in its weekend edition. The main protagonist was a man who marries two women by a quirk of fate. Prafullprabha ji and the lady were discussing the options available to him and his two wives: should he leave one for the other? They decided that it would be best if he accepted both as his wives since it would be unfair on either woman. At a sthanak, an old couple were seeking the opinion of a Sthanakvasi sadhvi about a recent sensational story in the newspapers about the rebirth of a dead boy in the house of his parents of his previous life. The sadhvi was explaining the possibility of this through recourse to Jain karma theory. It is perfectly possible, she said, to be reborn in the same house to the same parents since subsequent birth is coded seconds after death depending on the karmas of this life.58 Bharati sri has been, year after year, putting up lavish theatrical productions of Chandanbala’s life story with a cast of children from the Vir Nagar colony. This interaction is inevitably gendered. Male householders would invariably pay their reverence to all nuns but spend most time with the senior-most nun, planning and discussing arrangements about some function, ceremony, sermons, and such like. In the event that both 58 This conversation took place between Sadhvi Nidhikripa, a Sthanakvasi sadhvi and a Jain couple at the Kolhapur Sthanak, Kamla Nagar, Delhi.

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sadhus and sadhvis are in residence in the same neighbourhood, visitors were often divided sharply along gender lines. In the Jain Girls School in Gurgaon, for instance, where Sthanakvasi sadhvis were staying, I rarely saw any male visitors. Their destination was the Shvetambar Jain Sthanak across the road where male mendicants were staying. This division however gives way when female mendicants are the only ones present. And given that statistics are skewed in favour of sadhvis, this is likely to be the more frequent situation. Oftentimes, there are strong ties of devotion between laypeople and mendicants. Householders may even travel long distances to meet with their guru to seek their advice and blessings before embarking on any important business or life cycle ritual. Even though Jain mendicants stress their distance from activities of the world, they are consulted often enough on matters such as marriages and even business. Three young men, all close friends hailing from Pune, had come for the darshana of Sumati sri, a venerable Tapa Gacch sadhvi. The families of these men had become attached to Sumati sri since the time her group had visited Maharashtra some years ago. They had brought along their horoscopes, which the sadhvi pored over patiently despite her weak health. The three men were planning to relocate their business from Maharashtra to south India. One of the men, she explained to me, was the sole brother of nine sisters. He asked her if they should move to Bangalore to start an electronics business, or were their prospects brighter in venturing in plastics trade in Madras. They also posed questions about their marriage, to which the sadhvi advised them to wait for another six months, though she strictly warned them to look for brides in Mumbai, Pune or Nagaur only. Several other queries connected to health and litigation were put forth and she would turn to consult their horoscopes before replying. In the end, she wrote out some mantras for each of the three men and advised them to chant these without fail everyday. All their problems would be solved: their business would prosper, their brides would be beautiful and virtuous, they and their families would keep well and win all litigation. Relationships between mendicants and grihasthas are sealed through a mantra that the guru gives the lay followers to meditate upon. In addition, the devotee must vow to renounce the use and consumption of certain articles and food items or specific activities like watching television. Relations between the guru and grihastha–bhakta may transcend sectarian affiliations and geographical distances. A group of

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three Hindu women, for instance, had developed a close relationship with a Sthanakvasi sadhvi, who had given these women a guru mantra. Under her influence, these women had embraced Jain values, and turned vegetarian. When I met these women at the Jain Girls’ School in Gurgaon, they had come asking about their guruni from Subhasha ji, who was resident at the school at the moment. Such examples can be multiplied. A young Gujarati Jain woman at Moti Dungri in Jaipur had come to spend a few weeks to do seva to Chandraprabha sri ji. She told me that her mother had also nursed Chandraprabha sri’s guruni, the legendary Vichaksa sri, when she was suffering from cancer. Her mother and Chandraprabha sri had also been very close. So even though her mother had passed away, she was carrying on the family tradition of performing guru seva. Sadhvis frequently stress the influence they can exercise on their lay followers by inspiring them to lead pious Jain lives.59 The kalasha sthapna samaroh of Chandramati ji at Digambar Jain temple in Delhi was attended by among others, her devotees from as far as Calcutta, Rajasthan and Gorakhpur. In their speeches at the public function, her bhaktas underlined her therapeutic powers and motherly qualities. Quoted here is a fragment of the address to the local samaj by Champak Kumar Jain of Calcutta. You are extremely fortunate today. The Ganga of knowledge has herself come to you. Mata ji is so learned that she was once asked by Acharya Bharat Sagar ji to instruct him. Not only does she have deep knowledge of the Jina vani [the sayings of Jinas], but also has the solution for all our problems. You should ask her many bhaktas form across the country: her blessings and mantras bestowed children on childless. All my success is owed to her. I was directionless earlier, but have become super busy after meeting with her. [Mein pehle asta-vyasta tha. Mata ji se milke maha vyasta ho gaya hoon.] All your problems will be solved. The only cost incurred is compassion, devotion and surrender to her.

The president of the local Jain Mahila Sabha also expressed the hope that they would receive Mata ji’s love and knowledge such that they would be converted into her lifelong bhaktas, following her around the country. 59 See Mahasati Umarkanwar ji’s biography in Chapter VI for an illustration of how ascetics may exercise their influence on the laity by inspiring them to renounce meat and alcohol.

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Worldly Activities

The world of the sadhvi is not necessarily confined to the spiritual domain. Many sadhvis have taken the lead in building institutions that undertake welfare activities in the field of health and education. The Veeraytan charitable trust in Rajgir (Bihar) is run by a group of sadhvis headed by Acharya Chandana. Acharya Sadhna manages a public health service, a cow shelter and an avian clinic, besides overseeing the running of her fairly large-sized ashrama in south Delhi, and another in rural Delhi (Bawana). Sadhvis may also be involved in organising the building of temples, upashrayas and dharmashalas, all of which are seen as commendable and legitimate religious undertakings. Naturally, the resources for funding and running the institutions thus set up are mobilised by the laity. Lay followers, including women, averred that it was with the sadhvis’ ‘inspiration’ that they made donations to these ‘worthy causes’.60 Seva and Asceticism

We noted in the previous chapter that many sadhvis, especially the younger ones, said that they were drawn to asceticism because of their desire for social service. But since social service perforce brings ascetics in close communication with householders, it is deemed as corroding the ascetic values of detachment and indifference. Ursula King writes that modern Hinduism increasingly placed a premium on human action and individual initiative. This was the result of first a re-interpretation of the Bhagavada Gita by modern renouncers; and second, an influence of Christian missionaries, who laid an emphasis on selfless service over ritual activity.61 In a recent essay, Vallely has argued that the idea of seva or service is sharply antithetical to Jain asceticism. Doing seva to the householders, she says, would invariably give rise to himsa and karma, the very suppression of which is the lifelong project of an ascetic.62 This however does not square with our data. The draw of social service was

60

Chakresh Kumar Jain, President of All India Digambar Jain Sabha, interviewed by author, Darya Ganj, Delhi. 61 Ursula King, ‘Who is the Ideal Karmayogin’, Religion, vol. 10, no. 1, 1980, pp. 42–48. 62 Anne Vellaly, ‘These Hands are Not for Henna’, in Meena Khandelwal, Sondra L. Hausner and Ann Grodzins Gold (eds), Nuns, Yoginis, Saints and Singers: Women’s Renunciation in South Asia, Delhi: Zubaan, 2007, p. 299.

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a strong one for my respondents.63 Indeed some even placed it above their spiritual aspirations. Many sadhvis who did not run trusts and organisations were nonetheless involved in awareness campaigns: the Tapa Gacch sadhvis would often raise the issue of female foeticide (which was approached through the Jain value of ahimsa) in their sermons or informal conversations with laywomen64. Dr Manju sri and her disciples provided counselling to laywomen besides running camps on the ‘Art of Living’. They were emphatic in arguing that these camps belonged to the domain of seva, since they helped lay Jains (but especially lay women) in coping with everyday stress and tensions of living in the samsara. The sadhvis to be sure, did identify certain kinds of engagement with laity as particularly harmful: arranging wedding matches, for instance. These were seen as activities that induced the rise of karmas. ‘Our job is to inspire people to take to asceticism, not to push them to karmically harmful acts such as marriage,’ said sadhvi Prafullprabha. One may add here that it is not sadhvis alone who run various organisations and charities. However, in my observation, they were primarily the institutions where sadhvis dominated that the notion of seva reigned. The Terapanthi acharya, Muni Mahapragna is a prominent public figure, having received high government honours for his services to the cause of inter-religious harmony. Similarly, the venerable Digambar muni, Muni Vidyanand ji, founded the Jain Personal Law Board, which contrary to its appellation is not concerned with Jain personal laws, but with the very political question of Jains’ status as a minority.65 Though both these monks and their organisations have propelled Jainism on to the public sphere, they are not driven by the notion of seva. Thus, while rejecting the watertight opposition between ascetic and worldly activities, we have to recognise the intermeshing of these spheres. Indeed, we need to understand how engagement in worldly activities may further the spiritual pursuits of ascetics. But in doing so, we must not lose sight of the fact that this engagement is inevitably gendered. 63 This was especially and repeatedly emphasised by Manju sri, Akshay sri, Malli sri, and the newly initiated sadhvis at Agra. 64 Jains are particularly afflicted with this, the sex ratio in the community being the worst in the country. I often saw lurid posters describing the himsa involved in aborting a foetus, and the karmas incurred thereof. 65 Muni Vidyanand ji, interviewed by author, Kunda Kunda Bharati, Delhi.

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Vihara: A Peripatetic Life; Release from Domesticity Jab mann kiya, kamandal picchi uthaya aur nikal pade.66 (Whenever we feel the urge, we only need to gather our pot and whiskbroom and set off.) The Jain ascetic’s life is incessantly peripatetic, punctuated only by the four months of rain–retreat when they are bound to halt and reside in upashrayas, temples, or other arrangements.67 It is the vihara that most starkly sets up the contrast between a laywoman’s life and that of a sadhvi. While ahara and achara may also be important elements of a laywoman’s religiosity, vihara as an integral aspect of the mode of life belongs to the female ascetic alone (though of course the laywoman may undertake pilgrimages, but that is of a different order). The injunction on continuous travel places the sadhvis in a relation of opposition to the female householder. If domesticity binds the latter to home, renunciation enjoins upon the sadhvi a lifetime of itinerant release from sedentary domestic responsibilities. Years, even decades may pass with one group of sadhvis circulating within a limited zone: say, Punjab, Rajasthan or Western Uttar Pradesh, or Karnataka, Maharashtra and Gujarat. Or there may be times when sadhvis embark on long tours covering the length and breadth of the country, passing through regions with Jain presence. The group may start from Delhi for Karnataka, returning only after a few years. Many sadhvis have excelled themselves by venturing into regions hitherto not even visited by munis. Sadhvi Goranji’s biographical note records her travels to as far as Nagaland and Assam and Nepal; and that in the year 2000, Goranji traversed almost 1500 miles by foot, from Jaipur to Shimla via Delhi.68 But before we begin to visualizs a sadhvi forging her travel plans independently — unfettered by any obligations that bind a laywoman — venturing to new places and surviving by herself, we must sound a note of caution: no sadhvi travels alone; the itinerary is planned in consultation with shravaks and senior monks of the samudaya. Indeed, vihara provides us the clearest illustration of the inter-linkages between ascetic life and samsara. 66

Aryika Chandramati Mata ji. Chaturmas begins in early/mid-July. 68 Shasana Samudra, bhaga 20, p. 25. 67

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Far from being a withdrawal from the world, vihara brings ascetics in close touch with lay followers. Frequently, shravaks will invite groups of sadhvis to spend their chaturmas in the neighbourhood or town or village, which sadhvis will accept either independently or seek permission of their male preceptor before accepting these. The travel plans are drawn out in active consultation with the shravaks, for it is they who usually travel in small groups with the sadhvi, between one halt and another to ensure the welfare of the sadhvis. Occasionally these may be large groups, but mostly a bigger group only travels with the sadhvis till the limits of their town/city and whereupon, two or three people, with one definitely carrying the flag of the Jain dharma at the head of the procession reach them till the next stop, from where the Jain sangha of that city/town or village take over. The laity usually maintains some arrangement for the wandering ascetics to dwell en route or for longer periods during the chaturmas. Among the Murtipujaks, the shelter is called an upashraya, literally refuge; the sthanak maintained by the shravak sangha of the Sthanakvasis is also similar. Usually an upashraya (or sthanak) is part of a larger complex.69 When such formal resting places are unavailable — as when the population of Jains in a locality is too miniscule to support a permanent shelter for mendicants — portions of a householder’s residence may be converted into temporary quarters for the Jain ascetics.70 Domestic Ideology of Vihara

According to Cort, and Babb before him, the agnatic principle dominates the ascetic world. Sadhvis belonging to a parivar are attached to sadhus, and in the manner that women of the family follow the men, sadhvis too travel along with the sadhus. According to Cort, the laity’s invitation to a sadhu obliges them also to host the sadhvis belonging to his parivar. It is rare, he writes, for a renowned Tapa Gacch sadhvi to be specifically invited by lay followers.71 She merely 69 Occasionally, debilitating illness of senior nuns may incapacitate a group’s mobility to undertake vihara. A group of Tapa Gacch sadhvis had been stationed for more than a year in an apartment in a middle-class colony of north Delhi when I met them. Alternatively, a nun may entrust the care of her elders to her disciples, in which case only a fraction of the group is rendered stationary, while the others continue their itinerant ways. The sthanak at Jain Vir Nagar Colony in Delhi was populated by senior sadhvis like Kesar maharaj ji and Kaushalya ji on the one hand, and the younger disciples of Manjusri ji who had temporarily given up vihara to care for the senior nuns. 70 I observed this in Agra as well as in Green Park in Delhi. In the latter, Digambar female ascetics were residing in a lay Jain’s house. 71 Cort, Jains in the World, p. 146.

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follows the sadhu around. Thus in his study, he says, sadhus receive an enthusiastic welcome on their entry into a town or village during chaturmas, sadhvis being a mere part of his entourage. However, we do know that sadhvis receive rousing welcome on their nagar pravesh, including public felicitations by a large congregation of Jains, taking out shobha yatra, and performing guru puja (see Plate 5.9 of the invitation card of the nagar amantran, invitation to the programme celebrating the entry of Sadhvi Dinmani in Jaipur to spend her chaturmas). This indicates not only that they may be travelling on their own, but also the high degree of prestige they enjoy in the Jain samaj. It is true that most sadhvi groups I studied either received directions from their acharya, or sought permission from him, for both their itinerary and chaturmas destinations. But neither travelling by themselves nor spending the chaturmas sans the presence of a sadhu group is rare for sadhvis. Some sadhvis might travel with the monks, especially with their guru72, though most likely, a great number of sadhvis travel in exclusively sadhvi groups. In the Terapanthi, given its centralised character, sadhvis are not free to draw up their schedule, receiving it from the acharya — the spiritual and administrative authority of the sangha — instead. But this holds true of all mendicants of the sect, and not just sadhvis. It is deemed a great honour to be travelling with the acharya, and to be spending time in his service. The power to decide on the route and destination of the vihara is a good indicator of the status of a sadhvi. Some enterprising and independent-minded sadhvis prefer to draw their course of travel by themselves. Senior sadhvis who head groups of younger female mendicants, issue directions and draw up their travel programmes.73 Senior sadhvis may also split their group into two or more factions, assigning

72 The Digambar brahmacharinis at Agra were travelling with their guru, Upadhyaya Gyan Sagar ji maharaj. In 2005, a group of Sthanakvasi sadhus and sadhvis had arrived in Gurgaon to stay for the chaturmas. A portion of the Jain Girls’ School was reserved for sadhvis as their quarters while the sadhus were residing in the Jain sthanak across the road. 73 Dinmani of Tapa Gacch had dispatched a group of her disciples to Gujarat while she was spending her chaturmas in Jaipur after travelling in Rajasthan for months. She said to me: sab mere pas rehke kya karengi? Dharma ka prachar karein jake jagah jagah. [What will they do staying close to me all the time? It is better that they travel and spread the message of the Jain dharma far and wide.] These sections may continue to travel in different directions without meeting for years, or may converge at the place where they decide to spend the annual chaturmas.

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Plate 5.9:

Invitation card to the programme celebrating the entry of Sadhvi Dinmani in Jaipur to spend her chaturmas, 2002

Source: Sri Jain Shvetambar Tapa Gacch Sangha, Jaipur, 2002.

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them different itineraries.74 In this sense, it does mimic a household setting where a woman gains authority with age and growing number of disciples (rather than sons). Perils in the Vihara

If itinerant life liberates the sadhvis from domestic responsibilities, it also divests them of the security of the household. They are cast in the samsara bereft of the security and protection of the male kin. Some risks — such as uncertainty over procuring food and shelter, the ever present possibility of taking ill or meeting with an accident, sadhvis of course share with male ascetics; but there are other dangers that sadhvis encounter entirely as women. Their wandering life renders them vulnerable to sexual and physical threats. Thus a sadhvi is never allowed to travel alone. While founding the Terapanth order, Acharya Bhikshu, its founder, decreed that he would permit a women’s order only under the condition that at least three women would take ordination together. In the condition, that even one was to die as a result of disease or accident, her two companions would be bound to take sallekhana (voluntary death). The notion of a single female mendicant did not exist, even at the level of the ideal. Mulachara, an early common-era digest of monastic rules, still respected among Digambars, stipulates, ‘solitary wandering (ekavihara) should only be followed by those already strong in scriptural tradition (Agama) and renunciation ( pravrajya), as well as possessed of physical and mental strength…’ 75 What makes vihara a true test of a sadhvi’s courage and endurance are the perils that intersperse it. Sadhvi Keshar ji, for instance, was ordered by the Acharya to spend the chaturmas in Bhiki; however on their arrival in Bhiki, they discovered that there was no appropriate abode for them. Recalling that Acharya Bhikhsu had taken refuge in a cremation ground and a dark cave in absence of a proper shelter during chaturmas, the sadhvi and her disciples resolved to make do with whatever was made available. During the period of their stay in Bhiki, many attempts were made to provoke the local populace 74 Vairagyapurna of Tapa Gacch was in Haryana for her chaturmas while the rest of the group was in Delhi (Sumangal ji’s thada at Atmanand Jain Sabha, Roop Nagar, Delhi). She arrived in Delhi just a few days before the group was to leave for Meerut for vihara at the end of the chaturmas. 75 Paul Dundas, ‘Laicisation of the Bondless Doctrine: A New Study of the Development of Early Jainism’, Journal of Indian Philosophy, vol. 25, no. 5, 1997, pp. 495–516.

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against the sadhvis, but Keshar ji’s sermons worked like a salve and led to peace.76 The vulnerability of nuns is attested to in many accounts of their vihara by sadhvis. The journey of Goranji and her group, for instance, was a series of disasters: ranging from hazardous terrain to attacks by semi-monsters,77 and a possible attack by some men. Sadhvis were able to emerge from it only by an application of their mind, a persistence of their body to the meritorious powers of the bhikshu japa. In another instance, Sadhvi Bhika ji was walking from one halt to another in Rajasthan with two other sadhvis when a man accosted them and started walking alongside. He attempted to engage them in a conversation by continually asking them about their destination, their next halt. He told them he wished to accompany sadhvis since they were walking alone. Sensing his malafide intentions, Sadhvi Bhika ji boldly confronted the man: ‘we are Jain sadhvis. We have no permanent abode. If anyone even wishes us ill, he is destroyed.’ Hearing the sadhvi speak thus, the interloper sought the sadhvis’ apologies and slipped away.78 One of the most striking accounts is that of a group of nuns travelling through Rajasthan who encounter a group of Nath sanyasis.79 One of the Nath yogis started to follow them and tried to strike a conversation with the sadhvis. Angry at sadhvis’ rebuff, he unsheathed his sword, which providentially for sadhvis got stuck in his waistband, which allowed sadhvis to escape chanting the bhikshu japa.80 Even the laymen accompanying sadhvis for their safety may present a danger: Sadhvi Kamluji’s group was travelling to their chaturmas halt, when the kasid (layman appointed to travel with the ascetics) with them began to express his loneliness. He went as far as to threaten to abduct the younger sadhvis. Kamluji retorted: ‘We are five of us. That makes it 10 hands. Beware. Bhikshu japa protects us. Nothing can happen to us.’81 Nuns are able to repel the dangers through a combination of their astuteness, courage and the power of their asceticism, which overawes 76

Shasana Samudra, bhaga 20, pp. 168–69. Probably a local tribe. 78 Shasana Samudra, bhaga 20, p. 40. 79 Nathism is an ancient Shaivite religious order. Its founder Gorakh Nath has been identified with Shiva. See Vinay Kumar Srivastava, Religious Renunciation of a Pastoral People, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1997, p. 153. 80 Shasana Samudra, bhaga 24, p. 188. 81 Shasana Samudra, bhaga 20, p. 118. 77

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all those who wish to sabotage their plans or violate them. The shield of their sadhvi-hood defends them from the physical and sexual threats that vihara presents. Thus nuns themselves put forth their asceticism as their most potent protection. At a practical level though, nuns are protected and cared for by the shravaks who ensure safe shelters for them through their journeys and during the chaturmas. For instance, in Faridabad, where there exists a sizeable population of Marwari Jains owing allegiance to Terapanthi sect, a group of five Terapanthi sadhvis headed by Kanak sri ji was passing through during vihara. They planned to reach Vivek Vihar in East Delhi in two and a half months’ time at the start of chaturmas. When I met them, they were in Sector 9 of Faridabad, shifting residence everyday — from the house of one shravak to another. I met the nuns at the house of one Mr Golsha, where the outer sitting room and an adjoining room had been cleared for the nuns to stay, to meet shravaks and even to deliver pravachanas. The nuns had been walking from Rajasthan to Delhi for the past three months. A group of six men accompanied them in a jeep to ensure their safety, look after their daily needs and to keep up the communication with the Terapanth headquarters in Delhi, The Anuvrat Bhawan, which kept a close watch over the journey of the nuns. There are three main localities of Terapanth concentration in Faridabad: Sectior 9, Sector 14 and Sector 32. The nuns arrived at the house of Ramjilal Borat, which had been arranged prior to nuns’ entry into Faridabad through Anuvrat Bhawan. As news of their arrival spread, shravaks from Sector 9 and elsewhere started to visit Borat’s house to make formal requests to the sadhvis to grant them the opportunity to host them at least for a day. Kanak sri maintained a register noting down the requests and addresses, turning back the pages of the register from time to time to consult their schedule. On the basis of the number of requests, their timetable was drawn up. In fact, most Jain families had put in a request since all wished to partake of the labha of hosting mendicants. (Only in one instance did a shravika express her inability to do so because her husband had suffered a fracture.) There were other requests, such as inauguration of a hospital (Mahavira Eye Hospital) and presiding over the Mahavira Jayanti celebrations. But requests had also come in from Jain families from other neighbourhoods, who were imploring the sadhvis to give

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them the labha of serving them. These were all duly recorded in the senior sadhvi’s roster. It was decided that they would spend a week at Sector 14 and then move onto Noida and Ghaziabad, before arriving in Vivek Vihar just prior to the onset of the rain–retreat in July.

Conclusion Far from the solitary prodigal envisaged by Dumont, Jain sadhvis are firmly embedded in a web of social relations. It is our contention that the high number of Jain sadhvis derives from this vigorous inter-connection between the ascetics and laity, which enables the nunneries to flourish. The laity nourishes the nuns’ orders not only through material support, as evidenced in the practice of dana and building of upashrayas and sthanaks; but also through protection and care, in much the same manner as a family and larger kin network would. The loss of familial security is blunted by the support that the community mobilises. From the care of the family, a sadhvi moves into the care of the community which assiduously sets up an institutional setting in which she now operates. Scholars have made an explicit correspondence between the code of conduct and the existence of rules which segregate female ascetics and the high number of female mendicants. Sherry Fohr, for instance, argued for the widespread belief among Jains that women in Jain monastic communities are protected through a complex of restrictions as the most enabling factor in the preponderance of Jain nuns.82 Once, a Tapa Gacch sadhvi, while reading out a set of rules from a Gujarati handbook emphasised, ‘As must the ripe crop be protected by a thorny fence, so must the sexes be protected by these rules’ [emphasis added]. The rules she cited were thoroughgoing: – Rule One: Vasti — A brahmachari should not reside where woman and animals reside, so for us it means, we should not reside where man and animals reside. – Rule Two: Katha — A brahmacharini should not go to a sadhu alone to listen to his religious discourse and should never discuss about another woman with a man. 82

Sherry E. Fohr, ‘Restrictions and Protections’, pp. 157–80.

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– Rule Three: Asana — A sadhvi should not share a seat/couch with a man nor should she sit on the same spot on which a man has sat. (The intervening period before a woman may occupy the spot is 3 hours, while a man may sit on the spot vacated by a woman after an hour’s time only.) – Rule Four: Indriya — A sadhvi should not focus her eyes on any body part of the man. – Rule Five: Purvakriti — A sadhvi should never recall about sex that one has indulged in prior to one’s ascetic life. – Rule 6: Parnitiahara — One should renounce all rich food that may stoke one’s sexual vigour and desires. – Rule 7: Atimahatra — Even the intake of simple food should be reduced to a bare minimum. – Rule 8: Hasiya bhutta — Sadhvis should not stay in a place where talk about sex is audible. – Rule 9: Vibhusha — The brahmacharini should not indulge in pampering her body with bath, ubtans, hair styling, jewellery and so on.83 The operation of these rules assures the families of prospective nuns and diksharthis that their daughters’ chastity would not be violated, that monastic life would be a safe refuge for their girls. The code of conduct is seen as a mechanism that functions to protect the sexual honour and purity of the girls who enter the ascetic life, leaving the security of the household behind. One of the best proofs of this institutional caring can be gleaned in a rule outlined in the Brihatkalpabhashya. This rule pertains to a condition wherein a nun becomes pregnant. The text concedes that despite the elaborate rules to protect the chastity of nuns, there may be occasions when it is violated and they become pregnant. What should be the response of the Jain mendicancy in such a situation is the crux of this rule. Brihatkalpabhashya states that a pregnant sadhvi should neither be shunned nor condemned. Her desertion would result in penalisation of the acharya, on who fell the duty of caring for her. She should be sent to live with a devout Jain family who would care for her like her own parents; she should be rested and not allowed to go out for collecting alms. Instead the other sadhus and sadhvis should collect food and other essentials for her. The authors feared 83

Prafullprabha sri, interviewed by author, Atmanand Jain Sabha, Roop Nagar, Delhi.

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that criticising or abandoning such a sadhvi would turn her away from the sangha.84 More recently, a balloon seller molested a Tapa Gaccha sadhvi in the temple city of Palitana when she went to relieve herself in the fields behind the upashraya. Maharaj Revant Vijay, head of the Palitana Jain temple publicly demanded the sternest of action against the perpetrator, and called for an agitation by the Jain community to ensure punishment.85 An ethic of care was thus written into Jain monasticism, and this makes monastic life particularly attractive for women. It does appear that early Jain elders recognised the importance of stressing this in order to strengthen the sangha. Jain monasticism has appeared a safe and viable option for their daughters even to non-Jains. Kesar devi ji, a well respected and much-loved mendicant figure of the Sthanakvasis hailed originally from a Jat landowning family. Her biography records that on her deathbed, Kesar’s mother extracted a pledge from her father that he would entrust the young girl in the care of Jain sadhvis if he ever wished to re-marry. This was driven by her conviction that her daughter would be cared for and loved by Jain sadhvis rather than a stepmother. Relationship between a female preceptor and her shishyaas often mimics the mother–daughter relationship, characterised above all by love. We have already noted the centrality of a senior sadhvi in the life of a young diksharthi: as a mentor who inspires her to renounce the samsara, and as her preceptor. Sadhvis often compared their preceptors in interviews to mothers.86 Since many sadhvis take diksha at an early age, sometimes even before they reach puberty, they develop deep bonds of attachment to their preceptor, who act as their de facto mothers. This is a way in which a sadhvi can avoid what for many young women is a major trauma: having the mother-in-law replace the mother as her authority figure. In fact, by taking diksha, a young woman is able to retain the primacy of a mother permanently unlike her sisters who get married. Often, shishyaas pay loving tribute to their preceptors by bringing out special commemorative volumes and festschrifts (see Plate 5.10 for a typical example). 84 Cited in Arun Pratap Singh, Jain aur Bhikshuni Sangh: Ek Tulnatmaka Adhdhyana, p. 111. 85 ‘Jain Sadhvi alleges Molestation in Palitana’, Times of India, 19 February 2008. 86 maharaj ji hamaari ma samaan hai.

Plate 5.10: Frontispiece of a commemorative volume for Sthankavasi Sadhvi Mahasati Sundardevi ji published by the Sthanakvasi community of Delhi Source: Dr Manju sri

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A concrete manifestation of the institutionalisation of the ethic of care and seva is to be found in the establishment of four old age homes for senior sadhvis by the Terapanthi order.87 Those sadhvis who are no longer able to undertake vihara because of advancing age are retired to these homes and entrusted to the care of batches of junior sadhvis, which are rotated each year. Younger sadhvis consider it greatly meritorious to be performing seva to elders. It would be utterly mistaken to envision monasticism as a solitary pursuit, cleaved from the lay community, or a community of mendicants. On the contrary, it created its own alternative world based on the ethic of familial care and bonding. Its organising principles and foundational values were derived from the samsara, rather than opposed to it. A

87 Seva kendras for old sadhvis have been established at Bidasar, Rajal Desar, Dungarh Garh and Ganga Shehar, all in Rajasthan. Suvidhi Prabha ji and Ram Kumari ji, interviewed by author, Jaipur.

6 Idealised Lives: Biographies of Two Iconic Nuns Discussed herein are biographies of two iconic nuns, their lives bringing together many of the elements of sadhvi life discussed in the preceding chapters. The themes that emerge from these two biographical sketches reflect the concerns foreshadowed in the voices of contemporary nuns. Mahasati Sri Umarkanwar’s is a typical sadhvi career characterised by virtuous and pious parents, personal tragedies, loss of loved ones, widowhood, attraction towards vairagya, the daily business of austerities, vihara etc., common to all sadhvis; and yet it is simultaneously a life extraordinaire, marked by a series of miracles in her early years, a rare depth of knowledge, exemplary conduct, unrelenting propagation of Jain values, the undertaking of daunting tasks such as the translation and publication of the Jain Agamas, and travel to remote lands with only a miniscule Jain population. It is commonplace for the lives of Jain elders and religious leaders to be recollected and circulated as models of emulation in the form of biographies for the benefit of readers. However, Agnipath par Badhte Charan1 (Marching ahead on the streets of fire), Mahasati Sri Umarkanwar ji’s biography is rather exceptional. Instead of the usual narrative of biographical details in the text form, Agnipath follows the Amar Chitra Katha genre in creating a graphically illustrated biography.2 The cover page of the biography condenses the singular accomplishments of Sri Umarkanwar ji in four images (Plate 6.1). In the foreground sits the Mahasati on a low wooden platform, her whiskbroom 1

Jain Arya Dr Suprabhakumari ji ‘Sudha’, Agnipath par Badhte Charan, Agra: Diwakar Prakashan, 1998. 2 As far as I know, this is the only full-scale graphic biography of an ascetic produced by the Jains, even though illustrations are liberally used for Jain religious texts for children.

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by her side with devotees turned to her in reverential greetings. It establishes her charismatic appeal and pre-eminent status among the shravaks. Above this are three bubbles: the first shows the Mahasati deep in meditation concentrating on Parsva (distinguished by his shade of a serpent crown). What is interesting is that her body appears to be floating a few inches above her seat resulting from the absolute purging of sin from her thought and mind. The second bubble shows her walking solitary among verdant greens and snowcapped mountains symbolising the many onerous journeys she has undertaken. The third bubble shows her engaged in a conversation with a Christian priest. This is the most striking image. No matter how arduous a journey, all sadhvis are expected to undertake vihara; no matter what powers derived there from, samayik remains nonetheless a prescribed routine for all Jain ascetics. The cover page, especially the image depicting her in the midst of a theological debate makes it amply clear that we are about to encounter a sadhvi whose life is unique and ideal. The early part of the biography lays out her ancestry: hailing from an Oswal Jain family of Dadiya in Rajasthan3, her father Jagannath was a conscientious employee of the local ruler. The first few pages are devoted to outlining Mahasati’s worthy lineage: both her parents are portrayed as possessing qualities of courage, compassion and generosity. Indeed there are recurrent illustrations of Jagannath and his wife in various acts of dana (donation). A stray harsh remark from Jagannath’s kin over his habit of donating to the needy leads the couple to leave the ancestral home and relocate to Ahmedabad. A period of struggle, and then blissful domesticity follow. Jagganath’s wife returns to Dadiya to deliver her first born, Alolkanwar, later known to us as Mahasati Umarkanwar ji. Even in her birth, there are signs of her imminent greatness: she does not cry like other newborns, and a halo surrounds her head. Alol’s mother passes away when she is barely 2-weeks-old and the infant is put under the care of a foster mother. Alol’s childhood is a series of miracles: she falls down from the rooftop but remains unscathed; a black cobra coils up on the sleeping Alol but slithers away without harming her; she survives a near fatal fever, even when she is declared dead. Each of these incidents evokes awe and wonderment among her family and others, and can be seen as signs of a life special and unusual. Parallel to this narrative of miracles runs another 3

Close to Ajmer.

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Plate 6.1:

Frontispiece of the graphic volume Agnipath par Badhte Charan

Source: Jain Arya Dr Suprabhakumari ji ‘Sudha’, Agnipath par Badhte Charan, Agra: Diwakar Prakashan, 1998.

account that establishes Alol as the repository of true Jain values: she is remarkably compassionate even as a child, running feed old men and beggars, persuading a butcher to release the cattle he is taking to the slaughterhouse and so on.

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Following a fairy tale romance, Alol is betrothed to the son of a rich merchant. Subsequent years are marked by utter bliss, till one day when Alol’s husband dies unexpectedly, leaving behind a shattered young widow. For the next six months, Alol continues to grieve. One day, a group of sadhvis arrives at their home. The nuns console Alol and advise her to seek solace in satsang. Gradually, Alol expresses her desire to renounce. The senior sadhvi warns her that taking sanyas is like walking on the razor’s edge. Alol is resolute in her decision and she communicates this to her father-in-law, who is stunned at the thought of losing the daughter-in-law in such quick succession after his son. At this precise moment, an old female relative enters the room and announces that Alol is a rare gem who was destined to renounce the world. She narrates a story: many years ago, sadhvi Chautha ji, on a visit of the village, was passing by Alol’s marital home with her band of young sadhvis — all in the prime of their health, when a young disciple of her is struck down by a strange fever and dies immediately. As sadhvi Chautha ji is grieving the loss of her loved disciple, a divine forecast was heard by all present. It directed Chautha ji to abandon mourning, as the same house outside which she had lost her gem would gift her another diamond. The old woman reiterated that surely Alol was the gem referred to in the forecast. So even though Alol’s renunciation is occasioned by her widowhood, it is nonetheless pre-destined, a fruition of her past karmas. This also recalls the statements of various nuns in the previous chapter that stress that it is not mere personal tragedy that sets one on the path of renunciation, but the karmas of the past birth. Thus Alol becomes sadhvi Umravkanwar. The biography notes that these are her first steps on the streets of fire. Umravkanwar excels in her religious education and is bestowed with the title ‘Archana’ by her guruni. With time, her charisma and fame spreads across Rajasthan. Her pravachans attract hundreds and inspire them to renounce alcohol, tobacco and other ‘bad habits’. A few years later, after the death of her guruni, M. S. Sardarkanwar ji, disciples begin to be ordained under Umakanwar ji, thus indicating her higher rank in the monastic hierarchy now. Umarkanwar ji expresses her wish to travel beyond Rajasthan to Himachal and Kashmir to her younger sadhvis. The thought of traveling to these places where even sadhus of their sect had never ventured hitherto leaves the younger sadhvis aghast. However, Umakanwar is not daunted: ‘Can’t sadhvis tread where sadhus have not?

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Do we lack in either self confidence, strength, wisdom or courage?’ she asks her disciples. Her words dissipate all nervousness and tension and the sadhvis begin their march on foot to Himachal. Most striking is that the travel plans are made entirely by the sadhvis, with neither any advice sought from the laity who usually assist the sadhvis during their travels, not any permission sought from a senior monk for drawing up the itinerary. A motley group of three sadhvis, a few laywomen and a retired army man, Bajrang Thakur, set out for the journey. Passing Jaipur, Alwar, Delhi and Ambala, the band reaches Kasauli. They seek shelter for the night in the solitary Jain household in the town. They’ve barely settles in when they detect a nauseating smell. Through the window they see their host herding a large posse of hens into an enclosure. As it turns out, their host is a meat supplier and contractor for the army. Sri Umarkanwarji confronts him and shames him for engaging in a trade that is the very anti-thesis of Jain dharma, giving him a lecture on the virtues of a true Jain. The man vows to relinquish his violent trade and frees the poultry. Their next stop is small hamlet called Kumarhatti, where the sadhvi rescues a Sikh woman who is being sold off by her husband. Again, the effect of sadhvi ji’s persona and speech is to reform the errant husband. From Himachal, they proceed to Ludhiana where they are given a grand reception by one of the most senior monks of the Sthanakvasis, Acharya shri Atmaram ji. The four rainy months of chaturmas are spent in Ludhiana where the sadhvi and Sri Atmaram ji discuss in detail the finer metaphysical points of Jainism. At the end of the chaturmas, the Sadhvi sri seeks permission from the Acharya to travel to Jammu and Kashmir with her disciples. A rousing reception by the local Jain community awaits the sadhvis in Jammu. Again, the Sadhvi sri astounds the leading men of the Jain community with her intention of traveling to Kashmir. In a rebuke echoing her earlier statement to her disciples, she says: ‘Are courage and valour the monopoly of men? Women may be tender by nature, but do not mistake us to be weak.’ On their way to Kashmir, the nuns encounter army men who are bewildered by the sight of these women marching barefoot. Sadhvi sri explains their life to them and they too bow in reverence. So stirred are the army personnel that they organise Sadhvi sri’s pravachans in various camps, and even pledge to give up alcohol, meat and such like. The procession of sadhvis negotiates treacherous valleys and mountains

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to reach Anantnag, punctuated by many more incidents that we have come to accept as typical of Sadhvi Shri’s life.4 On way to Anantnag, the sadhvis stop over at Larkpur village, where the school headmaster, Aziz Khan welcomes them in his school and invites the local Muslim populace to a sermon by the sadhvi. In her sermon, the Sadhvi sri cites liberally from the poetry of Rumi and wins over the hearts and minds of the people. They in turn also pledge to shun meat and alcohol. In Srinagar, Sadhvi Sri’s pravachans attract Jains, Hindus, Muslims, scholars of Sanskrit and Persian. Sadhvi Sri and her group return triumphantly to Rajasthan covering the entire north India. Following the death of the senior sadhus of her sect, Sadhvi Sri assumes the responsibility of carrying out all the projects undertaken by the two senior monks. These include the translation and publication of the 32 Agamas, and the smooth running of the various institutions run by them. On the 50th anniversary of her diksha, a felicitation volume, titled ‘Archanarchan’ edited by her disciple, sadhvi Dr Suprabha is published. In recognition of the power of her sermons, she is also decorated with the title of ‘Pravachan Shiromani’ by the samaj. The penultimate pages of the biography show her engaged in conversations with a range of religious personages: from the famous Yogi Sri Purnanand ji, to Mauni Baba, to the Italian priest De Souza researching on non-violence. The biography concludes with the illustration of the range of philanthropic activities that Sadhvi Sri’s words and deeds inspired: dispensary, veterinary clinics for cows, centres for the distribution of relief to famine victims. Sadhvi Sri’s life is represented as the essence of Jainism. Agnipath par Badhte Charan, her biography in the Amar Chitra Katha mode, replete with adventures and miracles, is both pedantic and entertaining. Agnipath is an example par excellence of the packaging and iconicisation of sadhvis as models for emulation. This is a life that is held out as an ideal to be emulated, and yet, it is not one that can be easily replicated. ∗∗∗ The second biography is that of Mahasati Kesar Devi, a legend among Sthanakvasi sadhvis. Mahasati Kesar Devi was born Kesar into a Jat landowning family in Jatanpanchi village (Sonepat District, Haryana).5 4

Including a near miraculous escape from a bus accident. Sadhvi Vijay sri ‘Arya’, (ed,), Mahasati Kesar Gaurav Granth, Delhi: Mahasati KGG Prakashan Samiti, 1996. 5

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Her father, Kewalchand was a middle-level farmer and had two wives, Bari Devi (the elder one) and Choti Devi (the young one). Kesar was born to Choti. The village lay on the path of ever-itinerant Jain sadhus and sadhvis. Choti, though from a Jat family, was devoted to the Jain ascetics whom she would offer food. Kesar was born on 11 August 1926 and the couple was overjoyed. Though a bright child, she received no formal schooling, partly because of the rural way of life and partly because the girl was more inclined towards learning bhajans and hymns. When Kesar was barely 8-years-old, a debilitating disease struck her mother, and even after a protracted treatment the local vaid failed to diagnose the problem. Bedridden, Choti’s only thoughts were for Kesar’s future. What would happen to Kesar once she was gone? She was familiar with Kesar’s fondness for milk, butter and cream. Who would feed her after Choti was no longer there to tend to her? She was also familiar with the elder wife’s temperament; never had she demonstrated any affection for Choti or her children. Choti could not control her tears thinking these despondent thoughts. When her husband enquired the reason, she told him of her fears for Kesar’s future. He promised to her to keep Kesar happy if something were to happen to her. But she remonstrated that he would be unable to ensure her welfare while he was away working in the fields. She then said that if ever Kesar were to feel unhappy and unwanted in the household, he would take her to a learned Jain sadhivi and entrust Kesar’s care in her hands. Choti said that she could be assured of Kesar’s wellbeing and happiness in a Sadhvi’s tutelage. Kewalchand vowed to follow her last wishes. Soon after this, Choti passed away. The 8-year-old’s life was changed forever, but she was unable to grasp it then. She would be scolded when she asked to be fed; she was now perpetually hungry and under nourished. The elder wife’s jealousy and resentment for her stepdaughter got the better of her. When Kesar began to be deprived of food, she took to stealing from the kitchen. When Bari would ask her about the missing cream, she would say that the cat ate it. However, one day she was caught red handed in the kitchen and given a sound thrashing. That day when Kewal Chand returned home from the fields, he saw his daughter, now 10-years-old, her face tired and drawn, her clothes a rag, her body mere bones and her eyes brimming with tears. He was immediately reminded of the promise he had made to his dead wife.

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It was time now to fulfill it, he thought. He began making enquiries about Jain sadhvis and one day learned that a Jain nun was residing at another village close to theirs. From there, he learnt of Mahasati Sri Mohan devi ji Maharaj sahib, residing then at Jammu. Immediately, he left with Kesar for Jammu. The Maharaj ji asked the young Kesar about her education. Nothing at all, replied Kesar. Maharaj sahib: Would you be interested in studying? Kesar: yes, but who will teach me? Maharaj sahib: if you are interested, I could. Kesar: Then I will be forever indebted to you. Maharaj sahib: But you will have to stay here. Kesar: I will.

The father and the Mahasati agreed upon the girl staying with Maharaj Sahib. The girl asked her father to leave, leaving her with Mohan ji. ‘Won’t you miss home?’, her father asked. ‘Why should I? I am in my home.’ ‘And “that” is not your home?’ her father asked referring to their home in the village. Kesar replied, ‘Home is where one receives a mother’s love. My guruni loves me very much and teaches me too. It seems that my mother has returned.’ Thus began the third phase of Kesar’s life. Over time, Kesar grew more and more indifferent towards the worldly concerns like jewellery, clothes, or even her past indulgences, milk and milk products. Increasingly, she became engaged in studies and acquired a gravitas in all her conversations and dealings. This was the time when she seriously began thinking of taking dikhsa. Once when Mahasati Mohan devi ji’s group had to walk from Ludhiana to Machibara in Punjab, Mahasati ji dressed up Kesar in a sadhvi’s garb of white. This was done to ensure that her beauty did not attract unseemly attention and lead to untoward incidents. It was customary among the group to dress up the still uninitiated girls in sadhvis’ dress while travelling and in ordinary samsaric clothes while stationery in a town/city or a village. However, just when they were about to leave, a shopkeeper perceived something amiss when he saw Kesar dressed as a sadhvi. He thought to himself that he had seen the girl just the previous day dressed in ordinary salwar kameez, and that it was possible that these sadhvis had misled the girl and given her dikhsa overnight without seeking permission from her parents. He raised a cry and the sadhvis, though they attempted to explain the situation, were forced to return to Ludhiana.

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Kesar was nearing the end of the third chaturmas with Mohan ji and her desire for dikhsa was growing fiercer each day. She pleaded with Mahasati to initiate her. Mahasati tested her, tried to dissuade her by evoking the difficulties that lay ahead in this path. But Kesar’s mind was made up, forcing in the end to Mohan ji to relent. Kesar was given dikhsa at the age of 13 and henceforth referred to Kesar Devi ji. Mohan devi, whose three young and recently initiated disciples had passed away in quick succession after being struck down by an unidentified disease, was reluctant to initiate Kesar as her own disciple; instead she nominated Sadhvi Sri Roshanmati sri ji as Kesar’s guruni. Thus Kesar became Kesar Devi ji maharaj sahib, a renowned and well-loved figure of Sthanakvasi Samaj. This biographical sketch encapsulates several concerns that we have spoken of earlier, but if there is one overriding theme, it is the place of women in social structures and the refuge sanyasa offers them, indeed even to girls who do not hail from Jain families. Interestingly, even while speaking of the rivalry between wives, it eschews the commonly given negative images. The narrative, when it talks of the bitterness the elder wife feels for her rival wife’s offspring, is interrupted by a brief discourse on the heartlessness of men who conceive of marriage as mere child play and for whom women’s emotions count for nothing. The exact words translated are: ‘men are fond of luxuries and treat women as mere consumables. This has been going on since time immemorial. Not even powerful kings have been able to understand the inner most feelings of women. Kewal Ram belonged to the land of Lord Krishna who had 16,000 queens. He, who gave sermons about the soul’s eternity; he, who could hear Draupadi’s cry remained blind to his wife’s feelings by giving her so many rival wives (sautans).’ Thus, this is the lot of women who live in families and the samsara. They are eternally condemned to suffer in silence. The only place secure from such emotional vagaries is sanyas. Further, it constructs the disciple and guru/guruni relationship as one of true compassion and love. Second, it foregrounds agency, seen here as the will of even a 10year-old girl to choose the company of nuns over her father’s home. A

7 Some Concluding Toughts In the concluding chapter, we re-visit the original question with

which we began this book: what is the secret of the large numbers of female ascetics in Jain mendicant orders? Having surveyed the gender ideology as it is exhibited in its various code books, literary genres and popular narratives, having examined its internal organisation, listened to the voices of the sadhvis, and observed the daily lives of these nuns, several issues may be identified as decisive to the explanation of this phenomenon. The interviews with sadhvis illustrate that women (or girls) take diksha wholly volitionally; that pressure of impoverished parents or lack of marriage prospects are not what draw these women into asceticism. It is crucial therefore to attend to the discourses and practices of Jain asceticism in order to understand its attraction for young unmarried women — for that is precisely the profile of women who enter Jain ascetic orders. As pointed out early, Jainism does not stigmatise female renunciation. The Jain female ascetic does not stand on the shadowy margins of her tradition, but rather at its very heart. Ideologically, there is no taboo on female renunciation among the Shvetambars; Digambars too grant her the right to undertake austerities in order to ‘improve’ her birth. The recognition of female ascetics as one of the four pillars of the Jain tirtha ‘normalises’ her presence and thus she is not marked out as an ‘oddity’, or worse, as an obstruction to renunciation as she is in Brahmanical traditions. This is a remarkably enabling ideal that allows women to renounce samsara and enter into a different life without invoking suspicion or derision. The Jain theory of karma–bandhana, nirjara and moksha, and the heavy responsibility Jain theology places on the individual to work for one’s salvation serves to legitimise their choice of an ascetic life. The lack of stigma — indeed the great deal of honour that attaches to a sadhvi and her samsaric family who gave her up for the cause of Jainism — also allow a sadhvi to attract other girls, especially from

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her extended family, neighbourhood and region, to the ranks of nuns. This is clearly demonstrated by my field data: 36 of the 65 sadhvis interviewed had close and distant female relatives in the sadhvi sangha. Kesar maharaj, the reputed Sthanakvasi sadhvi belonging to a Jat family of Haryana has drawn several Jat girls from the region into her parivar, such is her prestige. Sadhvis can thus serve as role models for many younger girls: their lifestyles, comportment and activities all stand in sharp contrast to what these girls are used to in their familial lives or what awaits them after marriage. To paraphrase several sadhvis, many girls yearned to be just like the sadhvis they encountered, either in their hometown during chaturmas, or on visits to mendicants: ‘When shall I be able to wear white clothes like her? Can I not be like her? If she could win permission from my parents to become a sadhvi, would I not be able to?’ Guru’s charisma and her appeal thus also become decisive in drawing many girls to a sadhvi life. As a young girl in Bangalore, Pragiti sri used to visit Dr Manju sri when she came on a chaturmas to her city. She liked being in the sadhvis’ company and would often visit the sthanak to borrow books or talk to the sadhvis. She was highly impressed by Dr Manju sri. One particular encounter with her stirred in her the desire to renounce: While talking one day, Manju sri asked me, ‘What is the aim of your life?’ I was 19 at that time and had not thought along these lines at all. I was in my own world — school, college, and friends. I thought that nobody has asked me this question ever before. I began to mull over it. Then I began to think that I like these sadhvis’ life so much, I like being with them. It is a good life but very difficult. But if we choose an aim for ourselves, then nothing is difficult.

Renunciation opens a world of possibilities for these women that would otherwise be unavailable to them in households. We have seen in Chapter IV that the ascetic life is construed as a domain of autonomy, perhaps best encapsulated in Khartar Gacch sadhvi Kavyaprabha sri’s assertion that ‘we want to live independent lives. Just like Mira.’ Only an ascetic life can ensure freedom, independence, unhindered pursuit of scholarship and atma kalyana. Access to higher education is one firm indicator of the opportunities inherent in ascetic life (see especially Chapter IV). Asceticism is seen as a rejection of and refuge from the demands as well as the degradations of life in the samsara. We have seen already

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that implicit in nuns’ rejection of their sexuality and the institutions of marriage and family is also a criticism of these institutions as oppressive to women and a general disaffection with the position of women in these structures. Incompatible husbands, demanding in-laws, selfeffacement are all the pitfalls of a female householder’s life. Asceticism then comes to be viewed as an alternative that allows women to take on activities that would perforce be unavailable to them as daughters, wives and mothers. This life on the contrary affords them opportunities to undertake studies unencumbered by the demands of domesticity, to travel widely (in the case of Terapanthi class of novices, even overseas travel), and to take up social activities and other organisational work. It provides a sense of self worth through private pursuit of knowledge, devotion to their own spiritual welfare and the public roles they are called upon to play. Sadhvis are able to create spheres of authority and control through asceticism. When I enquired of the nuns if they missed bearing and raising children — normative roles into which most girls are socialised and expected to fulfil — all of them invariably responded that they felt a sense of kinship with the wider world as they were no longer confined to the closed circle of individual families and households. In a way, it was expressive of the sentiment that as ascetics they have transcended the restrictive boundaries of domestic and private sphere. And it is only through the adoption of this alternative lifestyle that they have been able to do so. In their conservations, Jain nuns not only emphasised the distant and difficult ideal of liberation, but also the immediacy of the liberating experience of samyama and sanyasa. Even though this individual project of asceticism and liberation involves the repudiation of worldly ties and relationships, in actual practice, female mendicancy is sustained through its association with samsara. Asceticism, despite its injunction of itinerant life and seeking alms for food, does not translate into an adventure into the unknown. It does not imply an end of security and protection. Unlike Dumont’s solitary renouncer, Jain female ascetics achieve their individuation in an institutional context. The women’s exit from samsaric ties simultaneously inducts them into alternative relationships of samudayas, gacchs and parivars, gurus, gurunis and guru behens. All this serves to imbue asceticism with a certain familiarity. Jain nuns can pursue their aspirations — spiritual, scholarly and personal — without having to forego the warmth of personal relationships. Elderly nuns are cared for by their younger shishyaas: When I recently re-visited

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Jain Mahila Sthanak, Kesar maharaj had been rendered bedridden. A group of nuns was living in the sthanak to nurse her. In many other cases, younger nuns abandoned their vihara to perform seva to the older nuns (see Chapter V). Younger nuns look up to the senior nuns for motherly guidance, not only for learning tattva-gyan and Jain theology, but also turn to them for more quotidian needs. One illustration of this mother–daughter relationship is an incident related to me by Prafullprabha ji. She told me how her guruni, Sumangla ji was away on a pravachana tour when she first started her menstrual periods. Unable to understand the changes in her body, she was in a state of panic till Sumangla ji arrived and reassured her. ‘She is like a mother to all of us,’ she reiterated several times. The ascetic milieu invokes an ersatz familial setting, with its own set of roles, duties, and relationships. At an emotional level, therefore, despite the very individualistic nature of the ascetic project, asceticism does not portend loneliness and alienation. A relationship of intense reciprocity exists between mendicants and laity. Mendicants are living embodiments of the Jain ascetic ideal and thus worthy of laity’s devotion. As we have seen, ascetics including sadhvis are called upon to aid laity’s spiritual journey. Sadhvis on their daily rounds of gochari ask housewives if their cooking adheres scrupulously to the Jain concept of ahimsa before accepting any food from them: ‘Did you use boiled water for cooking and washing? What are the ingredients that went into its making? Is there anything that could have led to himsa?’ This daily interrogation by sadhvis (and sadhus too when they are in the neighbourhood) ensures that householders remain committed to the ‘Jain way of life’ as it were. The institutional structures of Jain mendicancy are in turn sustained by its interaction with the laity which supports and nurtures mendicancy materially and organisationally. We have seen in Chapter V how laity is imbricated in everyday life of sadhvis, and how it makes material arrangements for the sadhvi samaj. Seeking gochari does not mean fending for oneself; vihara is not journeying to unknown lands without direction and aid. In fact these are patterned activities and in normal circumstances, there is very little possibility of sadhvis having to go hungry for lack of gochari. A young Khartar Gacch sadhvi once told me that she found gochari to be the most difficult part of sanyasa because one had to finish everything one received for gochari and she was always worried that she would receive far more than what she and

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her fellow sadhvis could possibly eat. (The rule against leftovers derives from the Jain belief that leftover food would be a virtual playground of microbes and thus a site of himsa.) It is incumbent upon the samaj to ensure the survival and sustenance of the sadhu and sadhvi sangha. In practical terms, vihara does not render sadhvis vulnerable to physical and sexual threats as they are always accompanied by a contingent of lay householders, whether paid employees of the various shravak sanghas or otherwise. Once, four Khartar Gacch sadhvis were mowed down by a speeding truck on the highway in Jaipur on their way to attend a function on the occasion of Mahavira Jayanti. At one of the meetings of the Sthanakvasi sangha that followed soon after this tragic accident, monks and nuns repeatedly reminded the assembled samaj how they were duty bound to protect their mendicants and to ensure safe passage to them during vihara. ‘What is the samaj’s thought on this? What arrangements are shravaks making for us? Or do we have to fear accidents every time we step on the highway?’ thundered Mithilesh Muni from the podium. This incident points to how mendicants expect the samaj to protect them, to virtually act as their guardians. This is true for more everyday needs too. Sadhvi Sayamratna said that she only needs to ask a shravak for any of her needs to be fulfilled: I need reading glasses, for instance. I ask shravaks just as their daughter would, and they gift it to me, as they would their daughter. We may have left the samsara but are still in many ways part of it. I cannot develop an arrogant attitude and act superior. I still remain their daughter.

Jain laity derives a sense of pride and confidence from the severe codes — including complete disavowal of sexuality — of their ascetics. The need for a demonstrable proof of the ‘purity’ of its ascetics has implied that a system of rules to regulate the sexuality of its monastic community was evolved and put in place since the earliest times. These codes regulate the interaction between sadhus and sadhvis, as well as between female ascetics and male grihasthas. Usually, male and female mendicants will not stay in the same building unless absolutely necessary, and there is to be no interaction between them after dark. As noted earlier, there can be no physical touch even between elderly sadhvis and youngest of boys, including toddlers. These restrictions and the very public nature of their interaction (guided by these strict codes of course) render Jain mendicants, especially sadhvis, as models

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of celibate conduct. Though scandals — and gossip — are not entirely unknown, Jain mendicancy is viewed by samaj and girls who might wish to undertake samyama as a safe haven, where sadhvis’ chastity would be protected.

Fractured Discourses, Fractured Practices: Prestige, Dominance and Power This said, one must not lose sight of the fact that Jainism is not a single unified discourse which privileges a positive evaluation of the female ascetic. The sheer volume of textual sources pertaining to woman’s position in the Jain tradition, the ferocity of the rhetoric with which women’s liberation has been debated complicates the picture. Even when Shvetambar authors have defended the right of women to seek and attain salvation, they are not contesting the Digambar attribution of noxious qualities to women’s bodies and minds. Their contention simply is that these negative attributes do not impede women’s ascetic project. We have seen also the fashioning of special rules for disciplining and controlling female ascetics, as in the Brihatkalpa Sutra, for authors of these early texts deemed women as essentially libidinous and fickle creatures (see Chapter III for details). Surprisingly, a section of sadhvis echo such gynophobia and revulsion for the female bodily processes. Sadhvi Dinmani ji for instance attributed particularly morbid features to the menstrual cycle: We consider it absolutely impure. During this time we do not read any Sutras. We even recommend complete silence. If you utter any words during this time you accrue sins. […] If you are in the samsara, then you should not cook or enter the kitchen: it kills all the food. Nurses are not allowed to enter the operation theatre if they are bleeding: the operation may go wrong. Even savouries and pickles may be destroyed if prepared by women having menses. The papads may turn red […] flowers may wilt [if tended to by women having menses].

It may be noted that the taboo of menstrual pollution has real implications in the lives of sadhvis. One reason why Tapa Gacch sadhvis lag behind in their access to higher education is the heavy weight placed on the terrifying and knowledge erasing qualities of menstrual blood. (See Chapter IV for how a sadhvi from this sect feared that she might not be able to appear for her examinations on account of menstruation. This dissuaded her from enrolling for a higher degree.)

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Women’s supposedly inferior physical, mental and spiritual capacities are routinely deployed as arguments for legitimising the bias against sadhvis in the very organisation of the mendicant orders and a range of practices; vandana vyavahara and male acharyaship being two most glaring examples (see Chapter II). As noted earlier, such a cultural construction of female roles and activities may also be internalised by many sadhvis. Among Murtipujak sadhvis, there is an all-pervasive belief that the relations of domination and subordination between the genders must administer both the spiritual and the worldly realms alike. The current mode of vandana vyavahara reflects accurately the social structures that have existed for ages. (‘Would not have Bhagwan Mahavira ordained equal status for men and women if he had deemed it correct?’, asked the Tapa Gacch sadhvi Sayamratna sri) For these nuns, the practice in its present form symbolises the stability of the familiar world. Its inversion — with sadhus bowing to sadhvis — would be tantamount to distortion and perversion of the very basis and fabric of society.1 It would unfetter the sadhvis from the authority of the male mendicants and lead to the contravention of maryada. For the maintenance of norms and preservation of honour, it was necessary that vandana vyavahara remain unaltered and untouched.2 Already, according to Mamta maharaj of the Tapa Gacch, the ‘modern’ woman enjoys a great many freedoms; so much so in fact that ‘she has crossed all boundaries and cares no longer for maryada. Now if she is even stops bowing to men and instead men begin to bow to her, to pay obeisance to her, the whole structure of society will come unstuck.’ Once while discussing this issue, I asked a learned Khartar Gacch sadhvi in Jaipur if sadhutva could be measured according to gender. Her reply, and indeed that of a large number of sadhvis, was this: Till the time one attains moksha, even those who have renounced the world to devote themselves to spiritual pursuits, continue to operate within the samsara. Sadhu sangha needs to be organised (vyavasthita) so that the discipline of Jain dharma is not compromised; maintenance of discipline demands that the sangha be administered according to some rules (maryada), of which vandana vyavahara is one.3 1 Statements such as this were frequently made by Tapa Gacch sadhvis: Samaj mein vikar aa jayega, weh bigad jayega. 2 Based on interviews with Sadhvi Shrutadarshita and Prafullprabha at Atmanand Jain Sabha, Roop Nagar, Delhi. 3 Sadhvi Kusumpragnya sri, interviewed by author, Motidungri, Jaipur.

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How is such a fractured discourse (at once positively enabling and negatively obstructive) and fractured reality (simultaneously empowered and disempowered) resolved in the subjectivities and identities of female ascetics? How do sadhvis reconcile their own attraction towards sanyasa in light of blatantly misogynist utterances and practices? According to Sherry Ortner, it is important to examine how women negotiate their identities within a prestige system that values male over female. She constructs a three-tiered system of hegemonies, all of which intersect to determine women’s actual position in a particular social structure.4 The first dimension of differential gender positions is that of relative prestige. Ortner calls gender itself a principal prestige system — a ‘system of discourses and practices that constructs male and female not only in terms of differential roles and meanings but also in terms of differential value, differential “prestige”.’5 What is at stake here is a culturally coded relative ranking of sexes, and does not have to do with the quality of relationship between the sexes. The second grid is that of dominance, and describes a particular kind of relationship that inheres between men and women, wherein men are able to exert control over women’s lives and women feel compelled to follow their authority. This domination is backed by authority/ legitimacy of varying kinds and degrees. Finally, she speaks of the domain of female power. This concept presupposes that women are able to control some spheres of their own and others’ existence and to determine some aspects of their and others’ behaviour regardless of the prestige system’s privileging of the male, and the overwhelming concentration of power in the hands of men. One response of those working in the area of gender to Ortner’s theoretical formulations was in ‘balancing off’ prestige and power.6 This was achieved by demonstrating that while prestige systems may be skewed in favour of men, women could and did enjoy de facto power, such that a ‘power/prestige balance between men and women’s spheres’ could be envisaged.7 However, such a balancing may only be half an exercise since we would be ignoring the ‘multiplicity of logics’ of prestige operating in a single cultural system. 4 Sherry B. Ortner, ‘Gender Hegemonies’, Cultural Critique, no. 14, Winter, 1989–1990, pp. 35–80. 5 Ibid., p. 41. 6 For example, the works of Susan Carol Rogers and Peggy Reeves Sanday, cited by Ortner. Ibid., pp. 38–39. 7 Ibid., p. 39.

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Another related response by scholars of gender and religion has been to focus, if a tad excessively, on autonomous spaces of female power in order to rehabilitate women’s voices. Anne Gold therefore draws up a typology of scholarship on gender in South Asia, classifying Type I as those who unfailingly highlight ‘endemic, systemic, unmitigated devaluation and consequent disempowerment of women at every level’. Against this enterprise, she lauds the Type II scholars who portray women’s multiple modes of living, negotiating and imagining gender identities.8 ‘Resistance’ and ‘subversion’ are terms that surface often in the writings of Type II authors. These spheres of power are mostly cultural ventures: women’s songs, stories and words which are seen as repositories of female agency and deployed as ‘weapons of the weak’ by women. Indeed, it was suggested to me, more than once, that Jain sadhvis could be seen as a case of ‘indigenous feminism’.9 Could we not ask if Jain sadhvis are some kind of home-grown feminists who forage their cultural–religious repertoire for more enabling and empowering female roles, and find this in the role of the sadhvi — that spheres of autonomy balanced off the misogynism inherent in Jain texts? Whilst the female power argument is seductive, we need to pay closer attention to multiple logics Ortner alludes to, and to the interaction between systems of prestige and power to arrive at a more nuanced understanding of what draws these girls to asceticism. Let us begin by examining the prestige system among the Jains. First to be noted is, as we have done already, its ambiguity and crisscrossing axes of male prestige and gender equality (at least on the question of women’s salvation). An important feature of Jain prestige system is the intrinsic value attached to asceticism, bearers of which are viewed by 8 Ann Grodzins Gold, ‘From Demon Aunt to Gorgeous Bride: Women Portray Female Power in a North Indian Festival Cycle’, in Leslie and McGee (eds), Invented Identities, p. 204. 9 Lawrence Babb raises the possibility of such a characterisation in the case of the Brahma Kumari movement. He argues that at least one of the significant goals of the movement is the liberation of women, and views Brahma Kumaris’ avowal of chastity and renunciation — resulting in withdrawal of sexual rights to the husband — as an expression of a ‘radical and unacceptable autonomy’. Further, Babb demonstrates that the Brahma Kumari movement offered a critique of the Hindu family and of the position of women within it. But in so far as it evolved such a critique, it was rooted in the Hindu religious culture and their criticism of oppressive patriarchal institutions was tinged deeply by the ‘world outlook of Hindu tradition.’ Babb, ‘Indigenous Feminism in a Modern Hindu Sect’, p. 403.

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the culture as superior, venerable and worthy. This multi-layered-ness of the prestige system allows sadhvis to extract those elements from their culture which value their renunciation and religious roles. The sadhvis’ subjectivities are forged not simply through the gender values of its prestige system but also through latching on to and privileging ascetic values as supreme. The negative qualities associated with women’s bodies (the ideological bedrock of women’s subordination) are transcended through the experience of asceticism. The nuns have detached themselves from their bodies and moved onto the level of the soul. They distinguish themselves from laywomen whose bodies and lives are dedicated to worldly ends: marriage, birthing, childcare. Asceticism is characterised by detaching oneself from the pains of the body and its substitution by the pleasures of the soul. Pleasures of the body in the samsara are not really pleasures but pain, which those in the samsara fail to recognise. As ascetics, they have realised how momentary these pleasures are, and how karmically harmful they are. Nuns are devoted only to the cause of purification of soul. As sadhvi Kavyaprabha said: ‘All these worldly pleasures are ephemeral: the moon shines but for a brief while, the nights are dark after that. We may look in the mirror and feel proud of our beauty — but ultimately we have to leave all this behind and go. So why not be prepared in advance?’ Asceticism is a demanding ideal. Its regimen requires one, above all, to control the body: to stop feeling cold in the severest of winter, to ignore the blazing hot tarmac whilst walking barefoot in the hot summer months, and to disregard the visceral pleasures of a good meal in favour of gochari. But, according to sadhvis, these hardships pale in comparison to the merit one accumulates for one’s soul. ‘We can achieve true happiness only when we renounce the body and its desires,’ reiterated sadhvi Shrutadarshita (Mamta maharaj) several times. What we are experiencing in this ascetic life is no pain at all; this is actually pleasure for the soul. Our body is merely a temporary abode. It does not belong to us really — it is like a rented house. However much you repair and decorate it, it is a futile exercise. It is not yours to possess. We have left all this behind to work for our souls.

Sadhvis’ comparison of their life with a householder’s life, and their critique of existing institutions and the enumeration of possibilities inherent in samyama are all steeped in a peculiarly Jain ascetic tradition.

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Is it not impossible to work for the welfare of one’s soul when duties towards husband, children and even in-laws have to be dispensed with? Is not a mother worried more about her child’s tiffin than her atma? Thus the tenets of Jainism can be followed truly only if one renounces the samsara and samsaric obligations. Sadhvis invariably and unfailingly cite the urgency of working for their souls as the principal motivating factor for their taking to sanyasa. Though many sadhvis bring up issues such as anxiety about marriage (Vairagyapurna, Sambodhi sri, Niranjana sri, Malli sri and others); fear of losing all control over their lives (Akshay sri, Divyaguna sri, Manju sri, et al); urge for an independent career (Ranjana, Niranjana sri, Malli sri etc.); and desire for scholarship and learning in their discussions with me — they insist upon vairagya and atma kalyana as central to their renunciation. Nuns thus construct a collective discourse around the experience of asceticism. Crucial to these narratives are the episodes of how they convinced their parents of the intensity of their vairagya. It must be demonstrated by distancing oneself from the body and its cravings: sleeping on hard mats or floor; undertaking arduous vratas; giving up ‘normal’ activities like watching cinema or listening to radio; and wearing plain clothes; equanimity in face of threats — and sometimes violence — by parents (see Chapter IV). As all sadhvis told me, ‘Parents will test you before giving permission for diksha. It is a hard life. They can’t give you permission till you convince them of the firmness of your resolve.’ Pragiti sri said that her parents found it hard to believe that she wished to renounce because she was fond of pretty clothes and a comfortable life. Only when she had displayed the genuineness of her vairagya and her commitment to renunciation through a variety of practices (which communicated her disregard for physical comforts) did they relent. As an example of how the axis of asceticism may be selected in order to override the gender dimension of social honour, let me quote here Aryika Bahubali, a Digambar sadhvi’s conversation with me on the Digambar position on women’s salvation: ‘Strinirvana is an oxymoron. It is like saying that a barren woman gave birth to a child. Women lack the physical strength needed to undertake the austerities that munis can. They can’t rid themselves of the shame of their bodies. Can you ever imagine a naked sadhvi? It is unthinkable. And without the renunciation of clothes, there is no true samyama.’ Her monologue follows the script up till this point. Then she adds:

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‘In the present era, there is no liberation for men either.’ Thus even though the Digambar values may place men above women, given the lack of possibility of moksha in this age, both male and female mendicants are essentially engaged in the same enterprise, without hope for liberation in this birth. Similarly, when I quizzed sadhvis on the proscription on sadhvis to read an ancient text, Drishtivada,10 sadhvis casually asked me not to mull over the question since the said text was no longer extant anyway.11 Vandana vyavahara receives a similar treatment. The ascetic project requires effacement of the self and ego; venerating the sadhus, no matter how young or old, displays foremost the qualities of egolessness. Vandana therefore serves as an excellent device for gaining nirjara12 and dharma labha13. Refusal to bow to all munis would not only violate the order ordained by Mahavira, but also militate against the most fundamental of Jain ascetic precepts: the development of indifference and equanimity. To be rankled by the thought of paying veneration to those one considers one’s junior is a sign that a sadhvi, unable to obliterate her ego, still harbours feelings of self-centredness and arrogance, and is therefore faltering on the path of purification. Tapa Gacch sadhvi Dinmani sri thus holds vandana vyavahara to be a sign of her ascetic qualities: ‘I do vandana to all sadhus with grace and politeness. It never enters my mind that I am senior so I should not bow to him.’ When I pressed on, asking why it must be demanded of sadhvis alone to demonstrate their spiritual worth by performing salutations to sadhus and not vice versa, she concluded: ‘Why should I be bothered by their [sadhus’] problems. I am able to cut at my karma–bandhanas by doing vandana and I am happy with that.’ A venerable Shraman Sangh sadhvi advised me to focus my research on the strict discipline which sadhvis follow since vandana vyavahara was a non-issue: ‘Write about our niyama, our vratas and our dedication to samyama. Rest is irrelevant.’ She then went on to catalogue the various mahavratas and other vows of restraints (samitis and guptis), determined to change the topic.14 10

Sangave, Jaina Community: A Social Survey, p. 170. Interviews with Khartar Gacch sadhvis in Moti Dungri, Jaipur. 12 The wearing away of karma through austerities. 13 Gain of merit. 14 Sadhvi Nidhikripa, interviewed by author, Kolhapur Jain Sthanak, Delhi. 11

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All of these serve to build a discourse that privileges a sadhvi’s vairagya over her femaleness.

Creating Counter-Hegemonies While a majority of sadhvis chose an alternate principle of prestige ranking (that of asceticism) to supersede gender as a status principle in their everyday lives, there are also others — albeit a small group — who are actively fashioning a counter hegemony and trying to breach the principle of male hegemony through this alternate ranking system. The votaries of this model have been a group of sadhvis belonging to the Shraman Sangh of Sthanakvasi sect, Dr Manju sri and her disciples. These nuns present a strident critique of discriminatory practices within Jain monastic organisation, denouncing male dominance as a contravention of ascetic principles. Manju sri and her shishyaas argue that Mahavira claimed the superiority of a person’s spiritual capacities over ascriptive criteria such as caste and gender. The mendicant can and should be judged only by the length of their austerities and asceticism. The flow of reverential greetings should always proceed from junior to senior ascetics, regardless of mendicant’s gender, or even their ages — for indeed even if a child were to be initiated prior to the parents, the rule would not alter. In other words, seniority could be determined only through precedence in samyama. For these sadhvis, the creation of a separate female monastic order under Mahavira, its unique administrative mechanism with chief nun Chandanbala at its head, with no interference from the male acharyas — references to which are to be found in the earliest of literature — serves as proof of the autonomy guaranteed to the nuns’ orders.15 Early monastic rules envisaged two kinds of situations in which vandana was to be performed: all those who had accomplished sadhutva (virtues of the ascetic) were worthy of greetings by all mendicants and laity alike; second, senior sadhvis were to be reverentially greeted by junior sadhvis and likewise for sadhus.16 Thus in both situations, it was the principle of sayama jyeshtha (seniority on the basis of asceticism) rather than linga jyeshtha (seniority 15 Akshay sri, ‘Bhagwan Mahavira ka Nari Vishayaka Drishtikon’ and ‘Sadhvi Varg Upekshit Kyon?’ Unpublished articles. 16 Acharya sri Mahapragna ji, ‘Bhagwan Mahavira ki Sangha Vyavastha’, Jain Prakash, 23 May 1995.

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determined by gender) that prevailed. Dr Manju sri cites early Agamic literature dealing with ascetic codes and books of discipline, especially the Cheda Sutras, which unequivocally claim the pre-eminence of seniority by diksha and asceticism. These nuns bemoan the gradual marginalisation of this principle of ranking (of ascetic seniority) and its subsequent replacement by the principle of male superiority, wherein male mendicants were eternally fixed as the revered category (vandaniya and pujaniya) and female mendicants as the one to offer the reverences (vandaka and pujaka). According to Manju sri, Shastric evidence stands in conflict with the current insistence that nuns continue to offer reverences to all sadhus regardless of their seniority, and is unacceptable to sadhvis like herself, who declared that her disciples would not bow before any younger sadhus. As she said: ‘young ones have a right over my affections, not reverences.’ To the argument that gender inequality is inscribed in the very scriptural tradition of Jainism, these nuns’ riposte comes closest to a feminist critique. Sadhvi Akshay sri, Manju sri’s articulate disciple, reminded me that Jainism remained for many centuries a largely oral tradition, with Mahavira’s sermons compiled into texts much later by men, who despite their scholarship, brought their biases into the exercise of redaction. The writings of learned sadhvis like Mahasati Yakkini have been marginalised by this tradition dominated by men, she said. This is a view shared overwhelmingly by the Veeraytan sadhvis headed by Acharya Chandana ji. Let me quote here Sadhvi Shubham ji’s lucid correspondence with me: Scriptures were written in a patriarchal society. I think that if you are sincere in your religious practices you can reach the highest spiritual point. Liberation is concerned with the soul not the body. All souls are equal and whether it is in the body of a man or woman it makes little difference. The soul is what is worshipped and remembered, not the body or prosperity. The 19th tirthankara Mallinath ji was a woman herself. Mahavira Bhagwan’s female disciple Arya Chandanaji had 36,000 followers while Gautam Swamiji had 14,000.

Her guru behen, Sadhvi Shilapi ji was of the view that ‘these prejudices arose due to interpolation by a male dominated society.’

214 A Escaping the World

Of course, such attempts at breaching cannot be accomplished easily and without opposition. At a Shraman Sangh sammelan held at Pune in 1987, Dr Manju sri led a minor movement against the practice. She convened a separate general body meeting of the sadhvis attended by 77 sadhvis, prior to the main council in which a resolution against the current mode of vandana vyavahara was placed. After a lengthy debate, 74 of the 77 sadhvis voted with the proposal. However, since it was time for gochari, the sadhvis did not formally sign their assent to a written document. But upon their return to their gurus, the sadhvis received a strong reprimand from the munis who accused them of refusing to respect the ‘elders’ — the monks. ‘Don’t you wish to do vandana to us?’, the munis asked the sadhvis of their respective parivars and samudayas. The sadhvis were thus shamed into retracting their acquiescence to Dr Manju sri’s proposal by the acharyas.17 So finally, despite the widespread sentiment among sadhvis against the practice, official authorisation for ending the inequitable vandana vyavahara could not be secured. Making a prescient connection between the continuation of these practices, Manju sri linked it unequivocally to the question of power: When I cite all textual evidence in my support, the sadhus have no answers. Either they are condescending, or they get upset with me. But they have no solution to this. Once a sadhu said to me, ‘today you are demanding that this vandana vyavahara be scrapped, tomorrow you will want sadhvis to become acharyas as well.’ I said ‘of course, that is our right and we will demand it!’ He replied that this was precisely the reason that the monks were against the relaxation on this rule. They are afraid that they will lose their power because numerically we sadhvis outnumber them [emphasis added].

While these issues may not have won popular support from within the sadhvi samaj, the very public nature of the debate has indeed forced a rethink, at least within the Shraman Sangh. Upadhyaya Ravindra Muni ji, a senior monk of the Shraman Sangh confided that there were plans afoot to grant sadhvis a greater role in the administrative structure of the sangha. He also agreed that a section of nuns was unhappy about the current mode of vandana, but sought to allay any suggestion that monks insisted on being venerated. ‘It is an expression of mutual respect and warmth, and can never be forced.’ But clearly, 17

Based on interviews with Dr Manju sri and her shishyaas.

Some Concluding Toughts A 215

such a shift in thinking has been prompted by the sustained discussion that sadhvis like Manju sri forced upon the community. Whether nuns mute male dominance and prestige or actively look to subvert it, they are in the end able to create some spheres in their lives over which they feel they have control. Their position as moral guides for laity also gives them a sense of control over others’ lives. That is to say, they are able to carve out spheres of female power. This is best summarised in Akshay sri’s assertion: ‘Even religion may be patriarchal, but at least here in this life of samyama we can ignore this for most times by focusing on our own atma kalyana and learning. We can remain aloof from all this.’ Indeed this positive self-evaluation is also reflected in the public domain. Let me cite here a devotional song composed by the Digambar ariyka, Dakshmati, in honour of her preceptor, Chandramati mata ji. The Aarti of Chandramati mata ji We all venerate thee, O’ Chandramati mata ji, We venerate thee; and gaze at your wondrous personage. Born in Navan Shehar to mother Brijeshwari and father Sri Sitaram, The foremost miracle of 20th century, Took diksha in Nagor town, Ocean of wisdom, she bestows merit on all her followers, She glows, our Chandramati mata ji does, We venerate thee … She drives away all our problems, Our Ganini is full of virtues, We venerate thee … A storehouse of knowledge, Her words are so sweet, Her nectar of knowledge flows to all of us, Her sermons grant us grace, We venerate thee… Beautiful Chandramati ji had no interest in the world, No worldly attachments did she have in her heart, She left her family and friends, We venerate thee… Compassion is her second nature, She is the bearer of the Three Jewels, May you live for thousands of years, We venerate thee…

216 A Escaping the World We light golden lamps in your honour, We sing in your honour, We seek refuge at your feet, Dakshmati sings your praises, We all venerate thee.18

Let us for a moment now rewind to the ceremony of initiation (diksha) into a sadhvi order. It is an example par excellence of the prestige an ascetic enjoys in the community. Though Anne Vallely writes that female renouncers do not set out to be cultural icons, we may discern a process of iconicisation underway in the elaborate public ceremonies surrounding the ordination, especially the parade that precedes it. Diksha merits this great public celebration because it upholds the Jain ideal of renunciation. The account of Preeti’s diksha in Chapter V attests to the high regard her enterprise is held in. Such is its intrinsic worth that a vairagin exudes a certain degree of auspiciousness for the householders. There was a virtual stampede at the conclusion of Preeti Jain’s mehendi ceremony, as suhagins (married women whose husbands are alive) rushed forth to partake of the henna from the pot Preeti had used to daub sadhus and sadhvi with. Again, on the following day, during the shobha yatra and the rite of diksha, there was a scramble to collect the coins Preeti was throwing around into the audience and the parade.19 A leading shravak told me that they would keep these coins in the tijori (locker) as it would lead to a manifold increase in their wealth. But the shobha yatra is not simply for the community to participate in — its purpose is also to communicate to a wider audience about this extraordinary event, when a young, beautiful girl is going to give up all comforts for a lifetime of severe austerities. The extensive photographing (and now the video recording) of the event also freezes this idealised behaviour for display and propagation. In Agra, large announcements about the imminent diksha of three girls in the Veeraytan sect of Sthanakvasi order began appearing in the local newspapers a few days prior to the diksha. Photographs of the three girls always accompanied these insertions with a caption underneath giving their names and that of their families (see Plate 7.1). The photographs are typical studio portraits instantly recognisable to us as belonging to the genre of matrimonial photography (the kind parents in India would 18

Translation by author. This throwing of coins is a simulation and re-enactment of Mahavira’s renunciation, where he flung his wealth away in an act of tyaga. 19

Some Concluding Toughts A 217

get prepared to circulate amongst prospective bridegrooms and their families — a demure smile, light jewellery, sari and the head tilted just so.) The effect — and I suspect, also the intention — of these photos is to heighten the contrast between the girls’ present worldly existence and the ascetic life they were fast approaching. Besides, the packaging the diksharthis in pretty pictures and their broadcast through the local media also staves off any aspersions that these girls are resorting to a lifetime of asceticism out of worldly compulsions, such as poverty or unattractive looks etc. It foregrounds at the same time the girls’ choice and the pull of the ascetic path of Jainism. An ideal vairagin is one who is poised to happily sever all ties with her family, kin and friends; her bridal dress, her hennaed hands, and the heavy jewellery — all gesture at the possibilities she chooses to leave behind. Possibilities of marriage and of a life where the body is decorated, pampered and celebrated for the sake of worldly pleasures; possibilities which are expunged with the change of clothes. During the shobha yatra, Preeti’s mother followed the cavalcade listlessly, occasionally erupting into loud sobs. Later, as Preeti took off her garland and delivered her diksha speech (see Chapter V), her mother and aunt began to cry out loudly sensing these to be the last moments of their daughter’s samsaric life and their parent–child bond. Preeti however remained supremely unmoved to the unfolding of this emotional drama. Her remoteness from this emotional turmoil was conveyed through her joyous smile and her gaze transfixed at a distance, above and beyond the audience. She had trained herself to be indifferent to the desires and pulls of the body and mind. In short, she had become an ideal vairagin, fit to be hailed and venerated by the samaj. A group of laywomen explained to me the significance of shringara prior to diksha. ‘We dress her up in new clothes everyday, adorn her with beautiful jewellery and apply make-up. A girl should feel that she has fulfilled all her desires before she is ordained. No feminine desires [for good clothes and jewellery] must be left unfulfilled. Koi armaan nahi rehna chahiye.’20 Having satiated her desires thus, she must now concentrate on the taming of these desires and work towards the purification of the soul. No desire must slip through the wall of ascetic fortitude. If asceticism begets social honour for the sadhvi and her family, then admission of weakness and unwillingness to continue living in sanyasa can bring disgrace. Most sadhvis were reluctant to discuss any particular 20

In personal conversation with the female residents of Atma Vallabh society, Rohini.

Photographs of two young girls prior to their diksha in Agra, 2002

Source: Jain Veeryatan Sabha, Agra, 2002.

Plate 7.1:

Some Concluding Toughts A 219

cases where ascetics may have returned to the samsara, insisting instead that only the unfortunate ones who failed to recognise the worth of samyama ever turned their back to it. I will make reference to one incident here which is crucial to our discussion. In 2006, Riddhi sri, a 21-year-old Jain sadhvi went missing from Amravati, 150 kilometres from Nagpur, where she was stationed for chaturmas with two senior sadhvis, Chetna sri and Vidya sri.21 It turned out later that Riddhi sri had become intimate with a young man in Sangli (where the sadhvis were in residence earlier) who had followed her to Amravati on the pretext of serving her. She had eloped with him in the early hours of the morning. Riddhi sri had devised her escape ingeniously, making it appear a case of spiritual epiphany and disappearance. Next morning, a pile of ashes and bones were discovered in her room whilst the carpet and sheets under the pile remained unscathed. Sadhvi Chetna sri claimed that she had seen a strong light emanating from her room and that her disappearance was a ‘case of divine power’. Even some lay Jains were convinced that the incident was a miracle. Adding further grist to the miracle theory was a letter seized from her room, which read: Jeene se pehle socha kar, kya karna hai mujhe? Marne se pehle socha kar, kya kiya hai maine? Varna jine–marne se koi fayda nahi. (Think, before you live, what do I want to do? Think, before you die, what have I achieved? Otherwise there’s no point in living or dying.) On the calendar on the wall, the date of disappearance, 14 October, was encircled in red and the word siddhi (liberation) scribbled alongside it. It was obvious that Riddhi had eloped with her paramour but fearing social reprisal, she had manufactured a version of her disappearance which was cast in the very language she had been trained in for the past six years or more when she took diksha at the age of 14. Death of a mendicant is usually described as lop ho jana — literally vanishing or evaporation. Prior to Riddhi’s disappearance had been a series of sallekhana (voluntary embracing of death). Riddhi had attempted to place herself in the same tradition by devising her (literal) vanishing act as the apogee of her ascetic career, and not its truncation. The sensational case ended in ignominy for the sadhvi who along with her lover was recovered and arrested; the sadhvi’s family in a village in Ajmer district in Rajasthan too remained mired in scandal. 21

‘Jain Sadhvi Disappears’, DNA, 16 October 2006, Jaideep Hardikar.

220 A Escaping the World

I choose these two cases — one of initiation into, and another of leaving asceticism — in order to highlight the continuities and ruptures between sadhvis and laywomen. While asceticism involves the inversion of some womanly roles (that of the mother and wife, most notably), there are also significant overlaps between the two roles. The production of an idealised sadhvi actually closely mirrors the manner in which a ‘good girl’ worthy of marriage into a respectable Jain family is defined through her conduct. Josephine Reynell has described how public demonstrations by young, unmarried Jain girls come to signify sexual purity and honour.22 By attending large ceremonial gatherings, listening to pravachanas, indulging in fasting, a girl emphasises her attachment to the Jain values of renunciation, her ability to discipline her desires and her impeccable ‘virginal’ credentials. All of these place her advantageously in the marriage circuit. Thus young marriageable Jain girls must internalise the qualities of a true Jain sadhvi and model their conduct likewise. Both householdership and asceticism are culturally prescribed roles for women. Asceticism is certainly an alternative for women, but one that is coded through Jain cultural values. This is not to deny that women are attracted to sanyasa for a variety of personal reasons, as we have discussed before, or that it should not be legitimately viewed as a rejection of marriage and family by these women; neither can the fact that female ascetics are able to create autonomous domains of authority be underplayed. These are all crucial and valid points. But in the end, the very legitimacy of the institution of female asceticism, and the way in which the samaj upholds it and sustains it renders female asceticism into a socially approved alternative institution. Vairagins do not have to militate against social norms to be able to take diksha — they have to convince all of the truth and strength of their vairagya. A

22

See Josephine Reynell, ‘Women and the Reproduction of the Jain Community’.

Sadhvi Chinmaya sri Sadhvi (name not given)

Sadhvi Kusumpragnya sri Sadhvi Chandanbali sri Sadhvi Nirmal sri

2. 3.

4. 5. 6.

Business The financial situation was not good after her father expired; brother now runs a business Jewellery business Business Transport business

Khartar Gacch (Moti Dungri, Jaipur) Sadhvi Candraprabha sri Cloth and jewellery business

I(b) 1.

Jewellery business General merchant Cloth merchant

Occupational background of the samsaric family

Khartar Gacch (Delhi) Sadhvi Shwetanjan sri Sadhvi Lakshapurna sri Sadhvi ji

Murtipujaks

Sectarian affliation and name

I(a) 1. 2. 3.

S. No.

Appendix: Socio-educational profile of the respondents

Appendix

22 years (Unmarried) 17 years (Unmarried) 32 years (left husband and children to take dikhsa)

20 years (Unmarried) 21 years (Unmarried)

14 years (Unmarried)

13 yrs (Unmarried) 19 years (Unmarried) 17 years (Unmarried)

Age and civil status at the time of dikhsa

( Appendix Contiunued)

Informal education M.A. No education

Informal education and religious studies M.A. M.A.

Informal education Ph.D. (Ladnun University) No education

Current education

Tapa Gacch (Roop Nagar, Delhi) Sadhvi Shrutadarshita sri Electrical shop in Bikaner and a hosiery shop in Sadar Bazar, Delhi Sadhvi Sayamratna sri Agriculturalist, landed family Sadhvi Sumangala sri Trader Sadhvi Prafullprabha sri Saree and jewellery business

II(a) 1.

Sadhvi Kusumprabha sri Sadhvi Vairagyapurna sri

Sadhvi Amritprabha sri Sadhvi Poornanadita sri

5. 6.

7. 8.

Saree and jewellery business Saree and jewellery business (all sisters) Shopkeeper Grocery shop

Khartar Gacch (Aradhna Bhawan, Jaipur) Sadhvi Niranjana sri Service in a private firm Sadhvi Kavyaprabha sri Accounts manager in a private firm Sadhvi Divyaguna sri Accounts manager in a private firm (sisters)

I(d) 1. 2. 3.

2. 3. 4.

Khartar Gacch (Jain Mandir, Jaipur) Sadhvi Dr Surekha sri Saree business Sadhvi Prashamrasa sri Merchant Sadhvi Hemrekha sri Transport business

I(c) 1. 2. 3.

Occupational background of the samsaric family

Sectarian affliation and name

S. No.

( Appendix Contiunued)

44 years (Widow) 17 years (Unmarried)

15 years (Unmarried) 18 years (Unmarried)

Mid-20s (Widow) 19 years (Widow) 13 years (Unmarried)

20 years (Unmarried)

19 years (Unmarried) 19 years (Unmarried) 17 years (Unmarried)

21 years (Unmarried) 21 years (Unmarried) 24 years (Unmarried)

Age and civil status at the time of dikhsa

None Up to Middle school

Middle school/Religious studies Informal None Informal education. Self taught in English Up to class 8 Informal

M.A. M.A. Ph.D.

Ph.D. and D. Lit. M.A. M.A. and finishing Ph.D.

Current education

5.

4.

III(a) 1. 2. 3.

4. 5.

Sthanakvasi (Jain Vir Nagar Colony, Delhi) Sadhvi Kesar devi sri Agriculturalist Sadhvi Kaushalya devi sri Landlord and shops Sadhvi Dr. Manju sri General stores and jewellery boxmaking workshop Sadhvi Malli sri Father storekeeper in Bajaj Tempo factory; mother self employed, supplying packed food to factory canteens Sadhvi Akshay sri Father storekeeper in Bajaj Tempo factory; mother self employed, supplying packed food to factory canteens (sisters)

Sthanakvasi

Tapa Gacch (Ghee walon ka Rasta, Jaipur) Sadhvi Dinmani sri Not clear Sadhvi Divyaratna sri Small provision store which closed down following father’s death Sadhvi Divyapratima sri Small provision store which closed down following father’s death (sisters) Sadhvi Divyarekha sri Father worked in a cloth mill Sadhvi Divyachetna sri Shop

II(c) 1. 2.

3.

Tapa Gacch (Gujarat Apartments, Rohini, Delhi) Sadhvi Sumati sri Watch and clock shop Sadhvi Suvriti sri General provision shop

II(b) 1. 2.

22 years (Unmarried)

20 years (Unmarried)

13 years (Unmarried) 18 years (Unmarried) 16 years (Unmarried)

18 years (Unmarried) 23 years (Unmarried)

18 years (Unmarried)

9 years (Unmarried) 16 years (Unmarried)

16 years (Unmarried) 22 years (Unmarried)

( Appendix Contiunued)

M.A. in Hindi and Prakrit

B.A. in Sociology, SNDT University

Informal, Religious studies Informal, Religious studies Ph.D.

High school High school

High school

Religious studies High school

None Up to class 7

Officer in a tea company Own factory in Bangalore Unclear

Business

Sthanakvasi (Jain Girls’ School, Gurgaon) Sadhvi Kusumlata sri Provisional store Sadhvi Subhasha sri General merchant Sadhvi Pushpanjali sri Hardware shop Sadhvi Geetanjali sri Cloth merchant Sadhvi Pramila sri Business

III(d) Acharya Dr Sadhna (Arhat Sangh)

III(c) 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

Ranjana Lakshmi Jyoti2

16 years (Unmarried)

12 years (Unmarried) 12 years (Unmarried) 17 years (Unmarried) 16 years (Unmarried) 37 years (Widow)

29 years (Unmarried) 23 years (Unmarried) 23 years (Unmarried)

15 years (Unmarried) 19 years (Unmarried) 26 years (Unamrried)

Sthanakvasi (Veeraytan, Bihar)1 Acarya Chandana Business Sadhvi Shubham sri Doctor Sadhvi Shilapi sri Business

III(b) 1. 2. 3.

4. 5. 6.

23 years (Unmarried)

22 years (Unmarried) 20 years (Unmarried) 23 years (Unmarried)

Unclear

Government service Stationary shop Typing school

22 years (Unmarried)

Age and civil status at the time of dikhsa

Sadhvi Sambodhi sri

Sadhvi Karuna sri Sadhvi Niti sri Sadhvi Bharati sri

7. 8. 9.

General merchant

Occupational background of the samsaric family

10.

Sadhvi Pragati sri

Sectarian affliation and name

6.

S. No.

( Appendix Contiunued)

Ph.D., Meerut University

Informal Ph.D. B.A., Ladnun University M.A., Ladnun University Religious studies

Three degrees in Acharya Ph.D. in Sanskirt M.Com. and M.A. in Indian Religions, University of London B.A. in Economics Up to class 10 B.A.

B.A. in Philosophy, Pune University B.A. M.A., Ladnun University. B.A. in Sanskrit, Ladnun University Up to class 7, Religious studies

Current education

2

Business Business (sisters) Umbrella manufacturing factory Agency of medical instruments

Business Cloth loom Cloth loom (sisters) Cloth trader

Jewellery and cloth business Jewellery and cloth business (sisters) Provisional store

14 years (Unmarried) 16 years (Unmarried) 12 years (Unmarried) 29 years (Unmarried)

16 years (Unmarried) 24 years (Unmarried) 24 years (Unmarried) 23 years (Unmarried)

15 years (Unmarried)

13 years (Unmarried) 14 years (Unmarried)

I met them in Agra, where the group had arrived for a dikhsa ceremony. Ranjana, Lakshmi and Jyoti were diksharthis, i.e., were to undertake diksha shortly.

Surana House (Jaipur) KanKumari sri Mankamal sri Rajmati sri Swastiprabha sri

V(b) 1. 2. 3. 4.

1

Milap Bhawan (Jaipur) Ramkumar Sundar sri Vinay prabha sri Atmaprabha sri Suvidhiprabha sri

Terapanth sect

Manjula

V(a) 1. 2. 3. 4.

3.

IV(c) Digambar Jain Mandir, Agra 1. Savita 2. Anita

20 years (Unmarried)

IV(b) Kunda Kunda Bharati, Delhi 1. Ariyka Bahubali mata ji

Agriculturalist

21 years (Unmarried)

IV(a) Digambar Jain Mandir, Gurgaon 1. Ariyka Jindevi mata ji Agriculturalist

Digambar

Informal religious eductaion Informal religious eductaion Informal religious eductaion M.A., Ladnun University

Informal religious eductaion Informal religious eductaion B.A., Ladnun University B.A., Ladnun University

Informal religious training

Informal religious training Informal religious training

Up to class 7, trained in Sanskrit, Prakrit and Religious studies

High school, Religious studies

Bibliography Acharanga Sutra, Translated from the Prakrit by Hermann Jacobi as Jain Sutras, Part I in Max Muller (ed.), The Sacred Books of the East, vol. 22, Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass Publishers, 2002 (1884). Kalpa Sutra: Translated from the Prakrit by Hermann Jacobi as Jain Sutras, Part I, in Max Muller (ed.), The Sacred Books of the East, vol. 22, Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass Publishers, 2002 (1884). Sutrakrtitanga, Translated from the Prakrit by Hermann Jacobi as Jain Sutras, Part II, in Max Muller (ed.), The Sacred Books of the East, vol. 45, Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass Publishers, 2002 (1884). Uttaradhyayana Lecture XXXII, Translated from the Prakrit by Hermann Jacobi as Jain Sutras, Part II in Max Muller (ed.), The Sacred Books of the East, vol. 45, Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass Publishers, 2002 (1884).

Modern Works Babb, Lawrence A., ‘Monks and Miracles: Religious Symbols and Images of Origin among Osval Jains’, The Journal of Asian Studies, vol. 52, no. 1, 1993, pp. 3–21. Babb, Lawrence A., ‘Indigenous Feminism in a Modern Hindu Sect’, Signs, vol. 9. no. 3, 1984, pp. 399–416. Balbir, Nalini, ‘A Note on the Avasyaka Tradition and Bibliography’, in Phyllis Granoff (ed.), The Clever Adultress and Other Stories, A Treasury of Jain Literature, Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1993, pp. 70–2. Balbir, Nalini, ‘Women in Jainism’, in Arvind Sharma (ed.), Religion and Women, Albany: State University of New York, 1994, pp. 121–138. Balbir, Nalini, ‘Women and Jainism in India’, in Arvind Sharma (ed.), Women in Indian Religions, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2002, pp. 70–107. Banks, Marcus, Organizing Jainism in India and England, UK: Clarendon Press, 1992. Barrett, Michele, ‘Ideology and the Cultural Production of Gender’, in Women’s Oppression Today, UK: NLB, 1980. Bennett, Lynn, Dangerous Wives and Sacred Sisters: Social and Symbolic Roles of High-Caste Women in Nepal, Nepal: Mandala Publishers, 1983. Burghart, Richard, ‘Renunciation in the Religious Traditions of South Asia’, Man (New Series) vol. 18, no. 4, 1983, pp. 635–53. Carrithers, Michael, ‘Naked Ascetics in Southern Digambar Jainism’, Man (New Series), vol. 24, no. 2, 1989, pp. 219–235. ——— ‘Jainism and Buddhism as Enduring Historical Streams’, Journal of Anthropological Society of Oxford, vol. 21, no. 2, 1999, pp. 141–163.

Bibliography A 227 Clementine-Ojha, Catherine, ‘Outside the Norms: Women Ascetics in Hindu Society’, Economic and Political Weekly, vol. 23, no. 18, 1988, WS 34–6. Cort, John E., ‘Medieval Jaina Goddess Tradition’, Numen, vol. 34, fasc. 2, 1987, pp. 235–255. ——— ‘The Svetambar Murtipujak Jain Mendicant’, Man (New Series), vol. 26, no. 4, 1991, pp. 651–671. ——— Jains in the World, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2001. Courtright, Paul B., ‘Sati, Sacrifice and Marriage: The Modernity of Tradition’, in Lindsay Harlan and Paul B. Courtright (eds), From the Margins of Hindu Marriage: Essays on Gender, Religion and Culture, New York: Oxford University Press, 1995, pp. 184–204. Denton, Lynn Teskey, ‘Varieties of Hindu female Asceticism’, in Julia Leslie (ed.), Roles and Rituals for Hindu Women, New Jersey: Associated Press, 1991, pp. 211–231. Dube, Saurabh, Untouchable Pasts: Religion, Identity, and Power among a Central Indian Community, 1780–1950, New Delhi: Vistaar Publications, 2001. Dumont, Louis, ‘World Renunciation in Indian Religions’, Contributions to Indian Sociology, 4, 1960, pp. 33–62. Dundas, Paul, ‘Food and Freedom: The Jain Sectarian debate on the Nature of Kevalin’, in N. K. Singhi (ed.), Ideal, Ideology and Practice: Studies in Jainism, Jaipur: Printwell Publishers, 1987, pp. 64–114. ——— The Jains, London and New York: Routledge, 1992. ——— ‘Laicisation of the Bondless Doctrine: A New Study of the Development of Early Jainism’, Journal of Indian Philosophy, vol. 25, no. 5, 1997, pp. 495–516. Falk, Nancy A. and Rita M. Gross (eds), Unspoken Worlds: Women’s Religious Lives, Belmont, Ca.: Wadsworth, 1989. Falk, Nancy A., ‘The Case of the Vanishing Nuns: The Fruits of Ambivalence in Ancient Indian Buddhism’, in Nancy A. Falk and Rita M. Gross (eds), Unspoken Worlds: Women’s Religious Lives, Belmont, Ca.: Wadsworth, 1989, pp. 159–60. Flugel, Peter, ‘The Codes of Conduct of the Terapanth Saman Order’, South Asia Research, vol. 23, no. 1, 2003, pp. 7–53. Fohr, Sherry E., ‘Restrictions and Protections: Female Jain Renouncers’, in Peter Flugel (ed.), Studies in Jaina History and Culture: Disputes and Dialogues, UK: Routledge, 2004, pp. 157–180. Folkert, Kendall W., Scripture and Community: Collected Essays on the Jains, Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1993. Fynes, R. C. C., Hemacandra: The Lives of the Jain Elders, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998. Ghurye, G. S., Indian Sadhus, Bombay: Popular Prakashan, 1962. Gold, Ann Grodzins, ‘From Demon Aunt to Gorgeous Bride: Women portray Female Power in a North Indian Festival Cycle’, in Julia Leslie and Mary

228 A Escaping the World McGee (eds), Invented Identities: The Interplay of Gender, Religion and Politics in India, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2000, pp. 203–30. ——— ‘Afterword: Breaking Away...’, in Meena Khandelwal, Sondra L. Hausner and Ann Grodzins Gold (ed.), Nuns, Yoginis, Saints and Singers: Women’s Renunciation in South Asia, Delhi, Zubaan, 2007, pp. 318–344. Goldman, Robert P., ‘Foreword’, in Padmanabh. S. Jaini’s Gender and Salvation: Jaina Debates on the Spiritual Liberation of Women, Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd., 1992, pp. vii–xxix. Granoff, Phyllis (ed.), The Clever Adulteress and Other Stories, Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1993. Gutschow, Kim, ‘How Buddhist Renunciation Produces Differences’, in Meena Khandelwal, Sondra L. Hausner and Ann Grodzins Gold (eds), Nuns, Yoginis, Saints and Singers: Women’s Renunciation in South Asia, Delhi: Zubaan, 2007, pp. 220–245. Hallpike, C. R., ‘Social Hair’, Man (New Series), vol. 4, no. 2, 1969, pp. 256–64. Hallstrom, Lisa Lassell, Mother of Bliss: Anandamayi Ma, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999. Jain, R. K., The Universe as Audience: Metaphor and Community among the Jains of North India, Simla: Indian Institute of Advanced Study, 1999. Jaini, Padmanabh S., The Jaina Path of Purifcation, Delhi: Motilal Banrasidas, 1979. ——— Gender and Salvation: Jaina Debates on the Spiritual Liberation of Women, Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd, 1992. Khandelwal, Meena, ‘Ungendered Atma: Masculine Virility and Feminine Compassion — Ambiguities in Renunciate Discourses on Gender’, Contributions to Indian Sociology, vol. 31, no. 1, 1997, pp. 79–107. Khandelwal, Meena Sondra L. Hausner and Ann Grodzins Gold (eds), Nuns, Yoginis, Saints and Singers: Women’s Renunciation in South Asia, Delhi: Zubaan, 2007. Khanna, Madhu, ‘Parallel Worlds of Madhobi Ma, Nectar Mother: My Encounters with a Twentieth Century Tantric Saint’, in Durre S. Ahmed (ed.), Gendering the Spirit: Women, Religion and the Post-Colonial Response, London and New York: Zed Books, 2002, pp. 136–152. Kelting, Whitney M., Singing to the Jinas: Jain Laywomen, Mandal Singing and Negotiations of Jain Devotion, New York: Oxford University Press, 2001. ——— ‘Good Wives, Family Protectors: Writing Jain Laywomen’s Memorials’, Journal of American Academy of Religion, vol. 71, no. 3, 2003, pp. 637–57. King, Ursula, ‘Who is the Ideal Karmayogin: The Meaning of a Hindu Religious Symbol’, Religion, vol. 10, no. 1, 1980, pp. 41–59. Kingsley, David, ‘Devotion as an Alternative to Marriage in the Lives of some Hindu Devotees’, in Jayant Lele (ed.), Tradition and Modernity in Bhakti Movements, Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1981, pp. 83–93. Laidlaw, James, Riches and Renunciation: Religion, Economy and Society among the Jains, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995.

Bibliography A 229 Leach, E. R., ‘Magical Hair’, The Journal of Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland, vol. 88, no. 2, 1958, pp. 147–64. Leslie, Julia, ‘Menstruation Myths’, in Julia Leslie (ed.), Myths and Mythmaking, Surrey: Curzon Press, 1996, pp. 87–105. Marglin, Frederique Apffel, Wives of the God-King: The Rituals of the Devadasis of Puri, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1985. McGee, Mary, ‘Desired Fruits: Motive and Intention in the Votive Rites of Hindu Women’, in Julia Leslie (ed.), Roles and Rituals for Hindu Women, New Jersey: Associated Press, 1991, pp. 71–88. Obeyesekere, Gananath, Medusa’s Hair: An Essay on Personal Symbols and Religious Experience, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1981. Orr, Leslie C., ‘Jain and Hindu Religious Women in Early Tamil Nadu’, in John E. Cort (ed.), Open Boundaries: Jain Communities and Cultures in History, New York: State University of New York, 1998, pp. 187–212. Ortner, Sherry B., ‘Gender Hegemonies’, Cultural Critique, no. 14, Winter, 1989–90, pp. 35–80. Pal, Pratapaditya, The Peaceful Liberators: Jain Art from India, USA: Thames and Hudson/Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 1996. Parry, Jonathan, ‘The Gift, the Indian Gift and the “Indian Gift”’, in Man (New Series), vol. 21, no. 3, 1986, pp. 453–473. ——— ‘On the Moral Perils of Exchange’, J. Parry and M. Bloch (eds), Money and the Morality of Exchange, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1989, pp. 64–93. ——— Death in Benaras, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994. Philimore, Peter, ‘Unmarried women of Dhaula Dhar: Celibacy and Social Control in Northwest India’, Journal of Anthropological Research, vol. 47, no. 3, 1991, pp. 331–150. Ramanujan, A. K., ‘On Women Saints’, in John Stratton Hawley and Donna Narie Wulff (eds), The Divine Consort: Radha and the Goddesses of India, Delhi: Motilalal Banarsidas, 1989, pp. 316–324. ——— ‘A Flowering Tree: A Woman’s Tale’, in Vinay Dharwadker (ed.), The Collected Essays of A.K. Ramanujan, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1999, pp. 412–28. Ramaswamy, Vijaya, Walking Naked: Women, Society and Spirituality in South India, Simla: Indian Institute of Advanced Study, 1997. ——— ‘Women ‘In’, Women ‘Out’ Women within the Mahanubhava, Warkari and Ramdasi Panths’, in Joseph T.O’Connell (ed.), Organisational and Institutional Aspects of Indian Religious Movements, Simla: Manohar and IIAS, 1999. Reynell, Josephine. ‘Equality and Inequality’, in N. K. Singhi (ed.), Ideal, Ideology and Practice: Studies in Jainism, Jaipur: Printwell Publishers, 1987, pp. 33–58. ——— ‘Women and the Reproduction of the Jain Community’, in Michael Carrithers and Caroline Humphry (eds), The Assembly of Listeners: Jains in Society, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991, pp. 41–65.

230 A Escaping the World Sangave, V. A., Jaina Community — A Social Survey, Bombay: Popular Prakashan, 1980. Shanta, N., The Unknown Pilgrims: The Voice of the Sadhvis. The History, Spirituality and the Life of the Jaina Women Ascetics, Delhi: Sri Satguru Publications, 1997. Sharma, Arvind (ed.), Religion and Women, Albany: State University of New York, 1987. Sethi, Manisha. ‘The Proof of Custom: Negotiating Jain Widow’s Inheritance Rights’, in Peter Flugel (ed.), Jain Law and Community. UK: Routledge, Forthcoming (2012). Smith, Mark D., ‘Ancient Bisexuality and the Interpretation of Romans 1:26–27’, Journal of the American Academy of Religion, vol. 64, no. 2, 1996, pp. 223–56. Srinivas, M.N., A. M. Shah and E. A. Ramaswamy (eds), The Fieldworker and the Field: Problems and Challenges in Sociological Investigation, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2002. Srivastava, Vinay Kumar, Religious Renunciation of a Pastoral People, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1997. ——— ‘Renunciation from Below’, in Ramachandra Guha and Jonathan P. Parry (eds), Institutions and Inequalities: Essays in Honour of Professor Andre Beteille, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1999, pp. 170–208. Tambiah, S. J., ‘The Renouncer: His Individuality and his Community’, in T. N. Madan (ed.), Way of Life, Householder, Renouncer: Essays in Honour of Louis Dumont, Jaipur: Vikas Publishing House, 1982, pp. 299–320. Thapar, Romila, ‘The Householder and the Renouncer in the Brahmanical and Buddhist Traditions’, in T. N. Madan (ed.), Way of Life: King, Householder, Renouncer: Essays in Honour of Louis Dumont, Jaipur: Vikas Publishing House, 1982, pp. 273–298. Tripathi, B. D., Sadhus of India, Bombay: Popular Prakashan, 1978. Vanita, Ruth and Saleem Kidwai (eds), Same-Sex Love in India: Readings from Indian History and Literature, Delhi: MacMillan, 2001. Vanita, Ruth (ed.), Queering India: Same-sex Love and Eroticism in Indian Culture and Society, New York and London: Routledge, 2002. Vellaly, Anne, Guardians of the Transcendent: Ethnography of an Ascetic Community, Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2002. ——— ‘These Hands are Not for Henna’, in Meena Khandelwal, Sondra L. Hausner and Ann Grodzins Gold (eds), Nuns, Yoginis, Saints and Singers: Women’s Renunciation in South Asia, Delhi: Zubaan, 2007, pp. 288–317. van der Veer, Peter, Gods on Earth: the Management of Religious Experience and Identity in a North Indian Pilgrimage Centre, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1989. Weber, Max, Sociology of Religion, Translated from German by Ephraim Fischoff; Introduction by Talcott Parsons, Boston: Beacon Press, 1964.

Bibliography A 231 Zwilling, Leonard and Michael J. Sweet, ‘The Evolution of Third Sex Constructs in Ancient India: A Study in Ambiguity’, in Julia Leslie and Mary McGee (eds), Invented Identities: The Interplay of Gender, Religion and Politics in India, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2000, pp. 99–132. ——— ‘“Like a City Ablaze”: The Third Sex and the Creation of Sexuality in Jain Religious Tradition’, Journal of History of Sexuality, vol. 6, no. 3, 1996, pp. 359–84.

References in Hindi Akshay sri, ‘Bhagwan Mahavir ka Nari Vishayak Drishtikon’, unpublished article. ——— ‘Sadhvi varg upekshit kyon?’, unpublished article. Dr Manju sri, ‘Sraman, Sramani ke ammapiya ke roop mein sravak-sravakiyaon ki Shastra-paddat bhumika and aur uska kriyavandan’, unpublished article. Muni Navratnamal ji (ed.), Sashan Samudra, bhag 1–25, Delhi: Adarsh Sahitya Sangh Prakashan, 2001. Sadhvi Vijaysri ‘Arya’ (ed.), Mahasati Kesar Gaurav Granth, Delhi: Mahasati KGG Prakashan Samiti, 1996. Singh, Arun Pratap, Jain aur Bhikshuni Sangh: Ek Tulnatmak Adhdhyan, Benaras: Parsvanath Vidyashram Shodh Sansthan, 1986.

Newspaper Reports ‘Virginity test on Jain Sadhvi Condemned’, Sunday Mid-Day, 24 May 1998. ‘Jain Muni told to leave Vile Parle Temple’, Mid-Day, 19 July 2001. ‘Jain Sadhvi Disappears’, DNA, 16 October 2006. ‘Jain Sadhvi alleges Molestation in Palitana’ Times of India, 19 February 2008.

Documents All India Reporter, Parshotam Ganpat Gujar–Plaintiff-Apellant vs Venichand Gujar–Defendant-Respondent, Bombay, 147, 1921. All India Reporter, Gopi Mal and another–Appellants vs Pannalal and others– Respondents, Lahore, 339, 1924. All India Reporter, Prem Sagar–Plaintiff-Appellant vs Ram Gopal and others– Defendants-Respondents, Lahore, 814, 1929. All India Reporter, Bhikubai Chunilal Ambaidas–Defendant-Appellant vs Manilal Bhagchand Raychand–Plaintiff-Respondent, Bombay, 517, 1930. All India Reporter, Mt. Lado–Plaintiff-Appellant vs Banarsi Das and others– Defendents-Respondents, Lahore, 546, 1932. All India Reporter, Sundar Lal–Plaintiff-Appellant vs Baldeo Singh and others– Defendants-Respondents, Lahore, 426, 1932.

A

About the Author Manisha Sethi is currently Assistant Professor at the Centre for the Study of Comparative Religions and Civilizations, Jamia Millia Islamia, New Delhi, and holds a PhD from the Centre for the Study of Social Systems, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. Her research papers have been published widely in journals and magazines, and she has delivered lectures and presented papers at various national and international conferences. She is also Associate Editor, Biblio: A Review of Books, India’s premier book review journal, with which she has been associated for over a decade, and a member of the Academic Advisory Board, Bhagwan Mahavir Professorship of Jain Studies, Department of Religious Studies, Florida International University, USA. Her research interests are gender and religion, communalism, and law and terrorism.

Index abhangs 32 Acharanga Sutra 16, 58, 60, 62 achara (conduct), of sadhvis 165–78; relationship between nuns and laity 173–76; ritual value of sadhvis 166– 73; seva and asceticism 177–78; worldly activities 177 acharya 11–13, 42–49, 57, 89, 150, 181, 187, 212, 214 Agnipath par Badhte Charan 191, 193, 196 agriganini 42 agriganiya 42 ahara (diet), of sadhvi 155–65; gendering reciprocity 164–65; and reciprocity in aharadana 160–64; virtues of 159 ailikas 44–45 Akkabai 33 All India Reporters 90 Amar Chitra Katha 191, 196 Anandamayi Ma 33–34, 36 Anchal Gacch 12 aparigraha (non-attachment) 12, 59, 155, 172 Archanarchan 196 Arhat Sangh 13, 48 artha, concept of 21 ‘Art of Living’ 178 Arunopapata 47 aryika 44–45, 87, 105, 138, 160, 171 asceticism, life of: categories 8; Dumontian notion of 26; gender and 3; from liberation from samsara 6; sewa and 177–78; women’s ability to seek salvation through 3 ascetics: foundation and institutionalisation of militant orders 24; practices 8; rules for 58–60

ashrama, theory of 21–22 atma kalyana 115, 127, 129, 138, 201, 210, 215; activities of 173; vs stridharma 117–21 Atmanand Jain Sabha 14, 42, 104, 150, 168, 170, 174 Atma Vallabh Society 139, 170 Avashyaka Niryukti 65 Avashyaka Sutra 16, 70 ayambila fast 57 Ayurveda 71 Bahinbai 33 Bahubali, Aryika 52, 210 Balasatimata 35–36 Balbir, Nalini 7, 16, 41, 46 Bhadrabahu Samhita 90 Bhagavada Gita 177 bhagawati diksha 139 Bhagvandas Tejmal vs Rajmal case 91 Bhakti movement 7, 31, 33–34 bhattarakas 46, 134–35 bhava, concept of 71–74 bhavalinga 72–74 bhavanapunsaka 73 bhavapurusha 73 bhava sadhvi 7 bhavastri 73, 78 bhikkhu 26 bhikshachari 155 bhikshu japa, meritorious powers of 184 bhojanashala 160 binary of oppositions 110 biographies: kinds of 17; tradition of writing 16 brahmacharini 45, 105, 149, 160, 181, 187 brahmacharya 18, 38, 40, 59, 66, 119, 153

234 A Escaping the World brahmacharya pratima 38 Brahma Kumari movement 119, 208 Brahmins: conduct, codes of 23; pativrata, code of 85; three debts, doctrine of 23 Brihatkalpabhashya 65, 187 Brihatkalpa Sutra 65, 77, 205 Buddha, enlightenment of 24 Buddhism 22, 26, 29–30, 64, 134 Burghart, Richard 22–25, 27, 38, 61, 118 career, professional 121–23 caste system 21, 24, 26 Chamars 26 Chandana ji, Acharya 48, 213 Chandanaprabha ji, Sadhvi 19 Chandanbala, life of 53–54 Chandramati mata ji, Aryika 167, 171, 176; aarti of 215–16 Chand, R. S. P. D. Ram 92 charitas 16, 66 chaste Jain woman 52–53; Chandanbala, life of 53–54; mothers and virtuous wives 55–58; Rajimati, story of 54–55 Chaturvidhasangha 3 Cheda Sutras 213 Chhattisgarh Shiromani 45 Christianity 84; and sexuality 83 Cort, John 12, 41, 48, 121, 145, 161–62, 164–66, 168, 180 dana 26, 92, 110, 160–62, 164, 172, 186, 192 Dandi 25 Dasnami Sanyasis 25, 37 debts, Brahmanical doctrine of 23 Denton, Lynn Teskey 36, 38; view of ascetic women 37 deva-rina (debt to the gods) 23 dharamshalas 110 dharma, concept of 21

dharma grantha 143 Dharmashastras 21, 27, 31 Digambar Jain Temple 160, 171, 176 Digambars 4, 12, 14, 38, 78; brahmacharinis 105, 149, 181; codes of discipline 44; hierarchy 44; nudity, concept of 5; paths of mendicancy 5; proportion of female ascetics among 138 diksha ceremony 2, 13, 15, 17, 122; ascetic model of 136–42; keshalochan 150–54; new identity, elements of 142–45; new name 150; newspaper reports announcing 140–41; for sadhvis 40; shvetavastra 145–50 discipline, codes of 44 dravyanapunsaka 72 dravyapurusha 72 dravyastri 72, 78 Drishtivada 47, 211 Dube, Saurabh 26 Dumont, Louis 19, 29, 33, 37–41, 50, 130–31, 161, 186, 202; criticism for his thesis of renouncers’ ‘otherworldliness’ 22–26; notion of asceticism 26; structuralist schema 20–22 ethic of care 188, 190 female ascetics: in Benaras 36; Bhakti movement 31; classes of 3, 8; Denton’s view of 37; in Jain mendicant orders 4; and model of asceticism 135–36; persons governing 11; phases of 31–32; prestige, dominance and power 205–12; role in the community’s life 11; vow of aparigraha 12 female foeticide 178 female goddesses, cult of 51–52

Index A 235 female householders 37–38, 124, 159, 163, 170, 179, 202 female, in jain narrative literature 66–71 female monastic hierarchy: among Tapa Gacch 42; among Terapanthis 44 female renouncers, contemporary 36–37; internal organisation and hierarchy in female mendicant orders 41–45; and model of asceticism 135–36; renouncer and householder 38–41 female renunciation 74–76; Malli Devi or Mallinath 82–86; shame and desire 79–82; temporal and spiritual inequalities 76–78; women, meaning of 78–79 female saints, see female ascetics festivals, significance of 167 Fieldworker and the Field, The 18 Fohr, Sherry 52, 186

Ghurye, G. S. 30 gochari 45, 49, 65, 87, 98, 155–56, 159–64, 203, 209, 214 Gold, Anne 208 Granoff, Phyllis 101–2 grihastha 26, 36, 39, 50, 122, 128–29, 141, 150, 160, 166, 169, 173 grihasthavas 102 gurudharana 102 Guru ka mahatva 109 guru puja 181

gacchadhipati 46, 48 Gachh 12 gahapati 26 gender: and renunciation 27–30; typology of scholarship on 208 Gender and Salvation 7

Indian Sadhus 30 indigenous feminism 208 individual-outside-the-society 39 inter-religious harmony 178 inter-sectarian relationships 24

gendered discourse 109–10; access to higher education 123–24; anxieties about marriage 113–14; binary of oppositions 110; biological and social determinism 112–13; career prospects 121–23; escape from patriarchy 114–15; idyllic world 127–28; natural propensity for renunciation 111–12; renunciation and householdership, contrasting models of 116–17; stridharma vs atma kalyana 117–21 gender inequality: in Jain monasticism 49; against sadhvis 49

hermaphrodites 73, 81 higher education, access to 123–24 himsa 78, 82, 84–85, 155, 177, 203–4 Hinduism: patriarchal norms of 30; sacred tenets of 24 Hindu rules of adoption 91 Hindu Woman’s Right to Property Act (1937) 90 hyper-libidinousness 81

Jain Agamas 191 Jain Digambar Society 92 Jain goddesses, kinds of 52 Jaini, P. S. 75 Jainism 22; brahmacharya and 18; gender issues 7–11; and Hindu rules of adoption 91; pancha mahavratas (five great vows) 59–60; path of purification 49; preceptions of 17–19; principles of non-attachment and non-violence 3; region of influence 11–17; sectarian divisions 4–6; sexuality, discourse on 74; transgressions, ritual confession of 83; women’s right to inherit 92

236 A Escaping the World Jain kranti 45 Jain Mahila Sabha 176 Jain mendicants 2; aparigraha (nonpossession), vow of 172; census of 87; female ascetics 4, 8; laity’s relationship with 132; population in late 1990s 4; sexual ideologies 7; womanhood, models of 9 Jain monasticism, gender inequality in 49 Jain Personal Law Board 178 Jain, Preeti 2, 139, 146–49; banner announcing the diksha of 146; instructions from a senior monk 147; shobha yatra 147 Jain religious community 7; social– religious functions 13 Jain sadhvi 2, 93, 118, 184, 186, 188, 198, 208, 219, 220 Jain sangha 8, 180 Jain, Sonal 149 Jain tirtha 143, 200 Jain Vir Nagar Colony 156 Jain Vir Nagar Sthanak 14 Jain Vishwa Bharati 124 Jayasena, Acharya 80 Jina 5, 6 Jinabhadra, Acharya 76 jinakalpin 5, 135 jivit satimatas 35 Jnaneshwar 34 Kabirpanthis 25 Kalpa Sutra 4, 16 kalyana marga 88 kama, concept of 21 karma: concept of 4, 21, 162; Jain theory of 200 karma bandhana 114, 117, 127, 200, 211 kaya shuddhi 159 keshalochan, personal and the public 150–54

kevalgyan 1, 6, 83, 143 khaan-paan shuddhi 159 Khan, Aziz 196 Khandelwal, Meena 37–38, 112, 132 Khartar Gacch 12, 19, 115–18, 122, 124, 128, 149–50, 153, 163, 168, 201, 203–4 King, Ursula 177 kshullikas 44–45 Kumari, Rup 35–36 Kundakunda (Digambar mendicant) 75; dismissal of women’s ability to undertake ascetic vows 76; Sutraprabharta 80 labdhis 76–77 Laidlaw, James 84, 118 laity 13, 17, 39, 43, 53, 87, 100, 108, 123–24, 131, 137–39, 143, 154–55, 178, 215; normal dietary habits 167; and reciprocity in aharadana 160, 162; relationship with mendicants 132–33, 160; relationship with nuns 173–76; seeking alms from 155; spiritual needs of 11, 169–70, 203; Tapa Gacch 166– 67, 180 Lakshmi, Goddess 52 Lal Digambar temple 52 liberation, for women 27 libido, kinds of 72–73 life of sadhvis: achara (conduct) 165– 78; ahara (diet) 155–65; vihara 179–86 life-stages theory 22, 25 Lilacharita 32 linga, concept of 71–74 linga jyeshtha, principle of 212 Lives of the Jain Elders, The 66 McGee, Mary 27 Madhobi Ma 34 Mahanubhava panth 32

Index A 237 Mahaparjina 47 Mahapragna, Muni 178 Mahasati Kesar devi ji, parivar of 15 mahattara 41, 46–47 Mahatyagis 25 Mahavira 17, 53, 137, 211; death of 4 Mahavira Jayanti 167, 169, 185, 204 male acharyaship 206 male ascetic, persons governing 11 Malli Devi 6, 57, 82–86 Mallinath 6, 82–86, 213 Mandirmargi 12 mann shuddhi 159 manushya gati (male destiny) 6 manyushini 78–79, 81 marriage, institution of 113–14 Marudevi 4 Marudhar Singhni 45 Marwari Jains 121, 185 mathas 33, 92 maya 28 Medusa’s Hair 151 Meghavijaya (Shvetambar mendicant) 75, 80–83 mehendi (henna) ceremony 2, 141–42, 216 menstrual blood, evocation of 80–83, 205 Mohan devi ji, Mahasati 198–99 moksha 3, 4, 6, 71–74; eligibility for 81 monastic codes of conduct 16 monastic community, domestication of 45–50 muhpattis (mouth shields) 1, 49 mulachara 183 mumukshus 43–45 munis 2–3, 46–49, 134, 138, 142, 144, 159–60, 169–70, 179, 210, 214 Murtipujaks 12–13, 41, 46, 123–24, 142, 180 murtipujak sadhvis 46, 123, 206 Muslim Fakirs 24 napunsaka 71, 81

Napunsakaveda 73 navpada oli (nine-day) fasts 56 Nimbarkis 25 nirdeshika 43 nirgranthis 39, 77 Nishitha Churni 65 nitya sumangali 28 niyojika 43 non-Brahmanical religions 22 nudity: Digambar conception of 5; requirement for full ascetic life 5; significance in spiritual life 5 nuns: relationship with laity 173–76; as sexual agent 64–66; ‘sky clad’ 4–5; vulnerability of 184 Nyayakumudachandra 79 Obeyesekere, Gananath 151–52, 154 Ojha, Catherine Clementine 36 Ortner, Sherry B. 207–8 Padmavati, Goddess 52 Paichang Gacch, see Parshvachandra Gacch pancha mahavratas (five great vows) 59–60 Paramhansa 25 Parshvachandra Gacch 12 pativrata, Brahminical code of 85 pativratadharma 27, 35–36, 121 pitra-rina (debt to the ancestors) 23 prabandhas 16, 66 Prafullprabha, Sadhvi 17–18, 54–55, 63, 106, 116, 172, 174, 178, 203 Prathmik Shikhsa Sansthan 124 pratikramana 83, 166 pratimas 38, 45, 105 pravachanas 110–11, 119, 139, 167– 73, 185, 203, 220 Pravachan Shiromani 196 Prem Sagar vs Ram Gopal case 91 Purushaveda 73 Purvas 77

238 A Escaping the World Rajimati sati, story of 54–55 Ramanandi monastic order in Ayodhya 24–25 Ramanujan, A. K. 31, 36, 57 Ramanujis 25 Ramaswamy, Vijaya 28, 32, 34 Ramdasi panth 32–33 Ramdas, Samartha 33 Ramkirtan 33 ratribhakta pratima 38 reasons for renouncing: kin networks 103–4; pious families 102–3; samsaric and spiritual families 105–8; spiritual mentor 108–9 religious texts 16, 27 renunciation: Brahmanical view of 7, 22, 40; debate on female renunciation 74–86; Dumont view of 20–22; gender and 27–30; and householdership 116–17; manly restraint and womanly sensuality 66–71; masculinising of 60–66; men as mendicants 62–64; models of 133–35; natural propensity among women for 111–12; nun as a sexual agent and 64–66; practice of 21; renouncer and householder 38–41; theories of 7; women as temptresses 62–64 Reynell, Josephine 7, 90, 92, 110, 220 rishi-rina (debt to the sages) 23 ritual hierarchy, of purity and pollution 21 ritual value, of sadhvis 166–73 sadhana 52, 100, 109, 111, 117 sadhvis 1–3; diksha ceremony, see diksha ceremony; domestic services for the munis 49; gender bias against 49; gendered discourse, see gendered discourse; life of, see life of sadhvis; motivations and intentions 10, 94–99; murtipujak

46; poverty 93–94; pramukha 42; reasons for renouncing, see reasons for renouncing; revulsion from the samsara 100–102; ritual value of 166–73; sexual ideologies 7; source of recruitment of 30; spiritual pursuits 99–100; status principle 212; widows as 88–93 sallekhana (voluntary death) 183, 219 salvation, woman’s eligibility and capacity for 4–7 Samagra Chaturmas Suchi 132 samanis 43 samayika 117, 166; pratima 38 same-sex marriage 79 samsamyika 17 samsara, concept of 21 Sangathan Prerika 45 Sangave, Vilas 88 sanyasa 26, 36, 97, 106, 113, 116, 118, 122, 199, 202–3, 207, 210, 217, 220 sanyojika 43 Sarasvati, Goddess 52 sarvakalika 17 sati 34–35; Chandanbala, life of 53– 54; criminalisation of 35; and Jain conception of feminism 52–53; Rajimati, story of 54–55 satimatas, cult of 35 Satnami Guru 26 Satnamis of Chhattisgarh 26 satsang 194 sayama jyeshtha, principle of 212 scholarship on gender in South Asia, typology of 208 scriptural learning, incapacities of women for 77 self-focused religiosity 57, 85 seva, and asceticism 177–78 sexual ideologies 7 Shaivite Sanyasis 24 Shakta Tantra 34 Shasana Deepika 45

Index A 239 Shasana Jyoti 45 Shasana Samudra 17, 89, 92, 102 shasandevatas 52 Sheokuabai vs Jeoraj case 91 Sheo Singh Rai vs Dakho case 91 shobha yatra 139, 141–42, 181, 216–17 shraddha ceremony 90 Shraman Sangh 13, 19, 144, 211, 214; of Sthanakvasi sect 142, 212 shravaks 3, 45, 58, 106, 142, 144–45, 160, 163, 168–70, 179–80, 185, 192, 204, 216 shringara 153, 217 Shvetambars 4, 78; derogatory references to women and their bodies 8–9; karmic rule 6; Mandirmargi 12; Murtipujaks 12; nudity, concept of 6; paths of mendicancy 5; sampradayas 13; sexuality, conception of 81; Sthanakvasis sect 12, 47, 123, 153, 169, 173, 180, 188, 195; subdivisions among 12; Terapanthi sect 43, 89, 104, 185 shvetavastra 145–50, 154 siddhachakra 57 singhadas 14, 42 ‘sky clad’ nuns 4–5 Smritis 27 social service 177 solitary wandering 164, 183 spiritual inequalities 76–78 spiritual life, significance of nudity in 5 spiritual mentor 108–9 spiritual parents, role of 141 Sravan Belgola, Karnataka 52 stavans (religious songs in praise of the Jina) 7–8 Sthanakvasi nuns 47, 123 Sthanakvasi sangha 204 Sthanakvasis sect 12, 14, 47, 123, 153, 169, 173, 180, 188, 195 Sthananga Sutra 132 sthavirakalpin 5, 135

stridharma 35–36, 41; vs atma kalyana 117–21 strimoksha 58, 75–76, 79, 81, 129; Saktayana’s defence of 78 strinirvana 71, 131, 135, 210 Strinirvanaprakarana 76, 79 Striveda 73, 78–79 Sumangla ji (Sthanakvasi Jain): parivar of 15; worldly and spiritual lineage of 108 Sundari, Mayna 56–57, 85–86, 167 Sutrakritanga 16, 40, 58, 62–63 Sutrakritanga Sutra 16, 40, 63 Sutraprabharta 75, 80 Svopajnavritti 76 swadharma 35–36, 41 swadhyaya 117, 166 Tantrik vidyadevis 52 tapa 35 Tapa Gacch 12, 14, 41, 45, 54, 104, 106, 152–53, 174–75, 186; female monastic hierarchy among 42; sadhvis 115, 123, 168–72, 175, 178, 180, 205–6, 211 Tatparyavritti 80 tattva-gyan 203 Tattvarthadhigamasutra 6 Tattvartha Sutra 78 tattvika-gyan 101 temples, building of 12 temporal inequalities 76–78 Terapanthis 12, 17, 43; characteristics of 89; female monastic hierarchy among 44 Thapar, Romila 26 tirtha 4, 143, 200 tirthankara 1, 5–6, 41, 49, 51–52, 54, 57, 82, 85, 133, 143, 169, 213 transactions, Hindu and Jain 162 Tripathi, B. D. 28 Tukaram 33 Tulsi, Acharya 43, 124 Tyagis 25

240 A Escaping the World Umarkanwar, Mahasati Sri 191–95 Unknown Pilgrims, The 7 upadhyaya 46, 134, 144–45 upasaks 43, 45 uppravarttini 42, 143 Uttaradhyayana Sutra 16, 58, 62 vachan shuddhi 159 vairagin 2, 142–44, 149, 216–17, 220 vairagya 38, 41, 92, 97, 99–105, 108, 111, 114–17, 119, 139, 191, 210 Vaishnava sect 36 Vaishnavite Bairagis 24 vandana vyavahara 49, 206, 211, 214 van der Veer, Peter 24 veda 72–73 vedaniya karmas 6 Veeraytan 13, 138, 213, 216

Veeraytan charitable trust 139, 177 Veeraytan sadhvis 213, 216 vihara 179–80; domestic ideology of 180–83; perils in 183–86 Vyavahara Sutra 46 Warkari panth 32 widows: destitute 90; as sadhvis 88–90 womanhood and female sexuality, portrayals of 9 women saints, see female ascetics yajna 26 yakshis 52 Yapaniya sect 76, 79 yatis 46, 134–35 Yogashastra 164 yojika 43