By Leela Gulati, Jasodhara Bagchi
Concentrating on relationships among girls of other generations in India, this ebook includes of narratives demonstrating how each one contributor confirmed her personal personhood via engagement with a much broader relations team. Did the ladies portrayed within the narratives locate house for themselves inside of orthodox constructions? Or, have been they so restricted by means of the social roles of the best value to their households - as better halves and moms - that finishing those roles intended a few type of dying? How did their lives mildew these of the narrators of those lifestyles histories? displaying that ladies don't need to continuously be obvious as sufferers, those are tales of girls who stumbled on power, luck and independence from the inspiring lives in their moms and grandmothers.
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Additional info for A space of her own: personal narratives of twelve women
Completely trusting, he did not try to exercise financial control. He did not interfere in household matters, but never paid a compliment either. He was warm towards my parents until he decided to walk out. A civilised divorce took place after 16 years of marriage. Well, our marriage was good while it lasted. His present wife Emma has excellent relations with both my daughters and with myself. D. degree and my first child came in the same year. I was 25. I rushed back to Calcutta from Cambridge to have my child born on Indian soil.
She compared me to my friends and to my younger cousins to show how much superior they were to me. It hurt me, but I could see that she was right. In my teens, when the mirror had suddenly become the THE WIND BENEATH MY WINGS 33 most valuable object in my life, mother told me that I was not a goodlooking girl, after all, and I should not be standing endlessly in front of the mirror wasting my time. I took her words as gospel truth and formed a very poor image of myself. Only after a classmate fell in love with me and told me that I was the most beautiful girl in the whole universe did I begin to think of myself as less than ugly.
They also reported that the child was named by Rabindranath Tagore. What they did not report was the story that lay behind the name. When I was 3 days old, a letter was delivered to our house. The envelope was addressed to Nabaneeta Dev at Bhalo Basa,12 Hindustan Park, Calcutta. ’10 When Radharani left home and married Narendra Dev, Rabindranath had given her the name ‘Nabaneeta’, the newly-taken-in one or the newly-wed one. My mother, a free independent spirit, politely refused this offer, saying that she already had two books under her own name; besides, she liked her name.