(I)
On a pleasant October morning, the day before Diwali, a team of community programme co-ordinators set out in a Scorpio from Jan Swasthya Sahyog (JSS), Ganiyari. We were going for a dai training session in the Semariya cluster. I accompanied Ben didi and Anil ji – coordinators for Semariya, and Manju didi and Mamta didi – coordinators for Shivtarai to the field. On our journey there, Manju didi asked her colleagues if I reminded them of Sonam.
The Sonam Factor
Now this wasn’t the first time someone had likened me to Sonam. Freshly a week in at JSS, when I introduced myself to Anil ji, he had remarked, “you look just like Sonam!”. Sonam used to work in JSS’ community programme a few years ago and apparently, I was her spitting image. Another colleague once decided to come to me bringing evidence of our likeness with a photo from Sonam’s Facebook page.
A few days later, Rishi bhaiyya, staring at my face with inquiring eyes at the lunch table in our canteen, asked me if I had ever worked here a couple of years back. Obviously, I denied it, but he insisted that I looked very familiar. I knew just what he was getting at, after having been told this so many times. So, I helped Rishi bhaiyya remember who I must’ve reminded him of and he exclaimed, “oh yes! Is she your sister?”
After him, several people speculated and probed whether I had a sister or a relative working here before, and others who compared me to Sonam. For some reason, I would get really defensive and fiercely assert my individuality.
I didn’t like the idea of being a second someone or looking like someone else. It felt like I was losing my individual identity. This is when Manju didi, on our journey to Semariya, told me about how two people who look like each other are celebrated and are a matter of communal joy in Chattisgarh.
The Mitanin Tradition
‘Mitanin’ literally means ‘friend’ in Chhattisgarhi. When two girls (or two boys) in a village seem to resemble each other, their families come together to consecrate this connection and ritually make it a sisterly bond. It is celebrated like a festival with a ceremonial puja and an exchange of gifts between the two families. At times, they even go on to live with each other as one family. They stand by one another through thick and thin, for the rest of their lives. They are stronger than blood relatives even after either of the mitanin gets married. It is a cultural tradition that deeply values friendship and its power to build and strengthen communities.
I reflected on how my defensive reaction to being compared to someone likely came from being socialised to value individualism in a non-communal environment. Resemblance with someone doesn’t have to mean a threat to, or a loss of my individual identity. Perhaps, it should be celebrated like the wonder of nature that it is. It can be seen as an opportunity to come together and forge social bonds with each other as the Chhattisgarhiyas do.
This, however, is a dying tradition now. Even in villages, one would not come by such mitanins as commonly as before. Its name is merely survived by the Mitanin programme in Chattisgarh and its community health workers – Mitanin didis. Interestingly, the state and later on, the central government, adopted and scaled the Mitanin and ASHA programmes, respectively, from the community health workers’ model introduced by JSS in the early 2000s.
Back in the car, Anil ji proudly shares, “dekho bola tha na maine! Jab pehli baar mile the Ankitha ji se, tabhi maine bola tha ki aap bilkul Sonam jaisi dikhti ho!’. Manju didi helped tie all these little instances together and brought them to a close. She taught me to appreciate the significance and beauty of this strange affinity.
(II)
We arrived in Semariya where Ben didi, Anil ji and I hopped off the car, and Manju didi and Mamta didi went towards Shivtarai for their field visits.
Festive Cheer
There was a festive buzz in the air. A colorful rangoli was made at the entrance of the subcentre. About 30 dais sat on the floor in the training room waiting for our team. A dai is a traditional birth attendant or midwife. The lines on their faces that expressed their decades-long experience was contrasted by the girlish cheer in their laughter as they joked among themselves. Soon after we greeted them, they declared, “हमन आज जल्दी घर जाही” (we’ll leave early today). As if it was the day before Diwali and they had to prepare for the festivities.
Dai Training
The day’s session was on the difficulties faced during labour and childbirth. Ben didi encouraged the dais to bring forward complications or problems that they had come across in their rich experience in childbirth. The aim is to equip them with information and resources to complement their vast traditional knowledge so as to improve the quality of their practice.
Cases of a rise in blood pressure, difficulty in breathing, low haemoglobin, umbilical cord prolapse, twin-births, etc. were drawn from their own lived experiences. Ben didi simply facilitated the session. Every dai had at least one story to share. Life-threatening conditions such as eclampsia (seizures during birth), post-partum hemorrhage can’t be managed at home and can lead to death without timely hospitalisation.
An old dai, several years ago, had helped save the life of a woman who had seizures by arranging for her urgent transport and bringing her to the hospital. The journey they made is a whole story waiting to be written.
Many such stories of courage, skill and success as well as those of pain and loss were shared in the group. These stories highlighted the invaluable role these women play in their communities. I was grateful for the opportunity to share space with them and learn from the wisdom of our dais.
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