Mahavir Narwal: A Tale of Fatherhood in Times of Patriarchy and Fascism
In a country where families are mostly patriarchal, where the father, the brother, the son is usually the head of the family, it is often expected to see women of the family living in the shadows of their male counterparts. Even if the fathers are vocal about how ‘liberated’ they are in contributing to create an atmosphere where women of their family can study and work, the casual sexism still comes out: be it in subtle jokes about how bad drivers their wives are, or in serious conversations where they shut off their daughters by saying, “You’re too young to understand this”, without giving her any space to express herself.
The head of the family, the father figure, will let his daughter free, but only until she does not cross his comprehension of freedom. For rural fathers, the understanding of freedom ends as soon as the daughter is literate, but even that is not the case in most situations. Urban fathers are willing to push the line a little, and think their daughter is free because she got educated, because she has a job, because she wears western clothes.
But these fathers will shudder at the thought of their daughters taking up jobs that are not conventionally feminine and attributed to women. They will be repulsed by the idea of their daughter wearing clothes that expose her body. This is the facade that ‘liberated’ fathers hide under, they have a mask of freedom, but inside they are riddled with patriarchy.
Certainly most Indian fathers – including educated parents, do not let their adult children develop or respect contrarian opinions regarding life choices, marriage partners, careers, political views. Some of it is due to fear, some due to their own innate inferiority complexes and inability to stand up to authority and some due to age old biases – religious, caste, class etc.
Mahavir Narwal was an exception to this conventional notion of the middle class indian dad. Natasha Narwal, the co-founder of feminist collective Pinjra-Tod, an activist who had been in jail for over a year under the draconian UAPA Law for taking part in the Anti-CAA protests, was the daughter of Mr. Narwhal, a proud father.
Mahavir Narwal believed in her cause, and stood by the side of his daughter through her ordeal, even when the entire world was against her. This comes as a happy surprise in a sociological system like ours, where fathers feel ashamed by any radical thought or choice that their daughters make, thinking that it brings them humiliation. However, Mr. Narwal was nothing but proud.
Respecting our elders is forced into our worldview as children. It is taught at home, to question our elders is to disrespect them. Our father’s word is the last word, and there is no debating further. This thought process is a huge contributor in creating citizens who are afraid of questioning the state, where the government acts as the all powerful patriarch of the family, and the citizens are nothing but little children who are afraid to ask any question in the fear of disrespecting their father. Natasha Narwal was lucky to have Mahavir Narwal as her father, a man who was himself an activist, and was jailed during the Emergency under MISA.
In an interview after Natasha was jailed, Mahavir Narwal asserted it was important to defend human rights. “Jail is nothing to be feared of,” he said. “What is there to be scared of? She [Natasha Narwal] will manage...It’s a matter of right of individuals, which can only be defended through dissent. There is no other way to defend human rights. You should be worried about a future in which dissent is not your right anymore.”
His daughter was facing a brutal regime and a bewildered judiciary. Not only that, but she was also braving an onslaught from a media ecosystem that is baying for blood.Yet, he fought the system like a father should. Like father, like daughter: he found some solace in that he was jailed during the Emergency while his daughter suffered incarceration during an undeclared emergency.
His interviews and anecdotes about him show a vulnerable yet courageous father in him. He loved his daughter dearly and wanted her to be safe, but not once did he express his dismay on his daughter being a strong woman with an independent voice who was fighting a battle much larger than you or me. He was completely at ease with her daughter’s engagement in progressive politics to resist patriarchy and racism.
In a patriarchal society, women are always “too young”, “too old” or “too naive” to think about any issue. But Mahavir says, “You can agree or disagree with your daughter. Natasha and I disagree on one issue. I believe that change should be bigger and whole. She thinks that change should come from small steps.”
When Mahavir Narwal passed away due to Covid, Natasha was released on a three week bail to complete the last rights of her father. Her release on bail would have been a moment of joy for the father and daughter, but it became a moment of great despair and grief. Instead of returning to the warmth of her father’s embrace, she returned to the horror of her father’s lifeless body.
The death of Mr. Narwal must not be sidelined as a personal tragedy but a political injustice by the Indian state to keep Natasha and several other activists imprisoned in overcrowded jails as undertrials in UAPA cases even as the COVID-19 pandemic continues to wreak havoc in the country.
Mahavir Narwal was not as old as he claimed to be. He had to live. To see his daughter free. Not on bail. Free, with apologies from the Indian state and Delhi police. He definitely was the father all girls deserve to have.
Mahavir Narwal set an example for his daughter by giving her space to develop into a strong opinionated woman, who has in her own way successfully carried forward the struggles waged by the previous generations. There is nothing uncanny about this repetition of history; this link between father and daughter is part of a larger chain, the passing down of a baton of resistance through generations, and it should not end here.
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