Our Mothers Need to Step Out and Take that Panga

@KeepUpWithKaustubh

The road not taken in HR corridors

“Main ek maa hun, aur maa ke koi sapne nahi hote hain.”

Amidst all the big-budgeted wonders and the flurry of Oscar nominations, Bollywood gave us a sweet and simple story, yet deeply impactful in its message. Panga, written by Ashwiny Iyer Tiwari, stars Kangana Ranaut as Jaya Nigam and drives home the struggles of a mother, replete with her inner turmoil and guilt alongside burning passion and capability.

In the film, Kangana, a national level kabaddi player, gave up her career to take care of her physically vulnerable son. Nearly a decade later, she feels happy yet incomplete, torn between her love for the sport and for her family. Hence, the constant emotion that she feels, is that of guilt. But isn’t it all too familiar?

Throughout, we all have seen our mothers, sisters and female acquaintances and even wives, feel guilty when they think of pursuing their own dreams, especially after becoming mothers. Society has conditioned them and put them on such a high pedestal, that for them to be human is unacceptable, and to hold on to personal dreams is considered selfish. Thus, when Jaya has an outburst instead of feeling joyous when she gets selected in one of the railway teams, we get it. She echoes every mother who thinks she doesn’t deserve to dream, because she has others’ dreams to take care of.

Look at the work front. Every day, ambitious and talented women take a ‘maternity break’ upon delivery, and vow to come back after their 6-months of leave. Sadly, several find themselves advised by well-meaning relatives not to leave their children in the care of professional helpers and day care setups. ‘A child needs a mother’s love’ is a common refrain, and first-time mothers feel they should be safe rather than sorry. Very few employers manage to offer sufficient options for such valuable employees and end up losing them, making it a huge loss for all stakeholders.   

But should taking care of the family only be the responsibility of the mother? Shouldn’t the men in the house share it equally? In one of the sequences, when Jaya’s son is offended that she couldn’t make it to his race, her husband Prashant tells him how she couldn’t pursue her dreams because of two men, them. As he narrates her days of glory to their son, you can’t help but feel a pang; what if all husbands were as proud of their wives’ accomplishments?

There are not many Prashants out there; it’s sad but true. Patriarchy has such firm roots in our society that even in the 21st century we have numerous barriers which prevent women from creating an identity of their own, away from the usual mother, sister, wife labels. But here’s a fact: every woman has a Jaya inside her, burning with equal amounts of desire and guilt, and constantly torn between what she is and what she could have been. We live in the times when our redundant culture and traditions are constantly at loggerheads with the modern tenets of feminism, and the flagbearers of the former are not ready to let go of their power. As a result, we are stuck in a world which is not kind to mothers, the women who have sacrificed everything for the future of the others. It’s evident even in the corporate world.

Women in the workplace often have to manage both home and work, with little to no help from the other members of the family. Their ambitions and dreams are carelessly flouted to be their own choice for which no other family member is responsible or should care about. At the end, the pressure leads them to exercise the choice that stems out of undue influence – they leave their dreams, and eventually lose all hope of ever making a comeback.

But should that be the way we treat the women who have till now bound our families together and nourished and supported everyone’s dreams? Isn’t it high time we took upon us to give back some of what we have been taking for granted – everything she does?

In one of the scenes, when Jaya decides to make a comeback, she tears up in front of Prashant, and says, “Jab tumhe dekhti hu, to bahot Khushi hoti hai. Jab Adi ko dekhti hu, to bahot khushi milti hai, par jab khud ko dekhti hu, to wo Khushi nahi milti.”

These words were spoken by Jaya, but in reality it could be any of the wonderful women we are all surrounded by. Why is it that she is always conditioned to think of anyone but herself? How can she be unhappy for herself and be happy for others? That is what we need to change. The narrative is changing on the reel, but it is upon us to change it for real.

Panga is an extremely relevant tale, an ode to the mothers. It’s time we understood that mothers are no Gods, but they too are humans with passion and ambition, they too are imbibed with talent. It’s time we extended our hands to encourage her and tell her that she can take that Panga and make that comeback, on field, in the conference room, on any other platform.

Several companies talk of a second innings to refer to welcoming women back into the corporate fold after a long hiatus (usually to bring up children). It’s time to see how we can go a step further. How can companies ensure that mothers can stay up to date while on their leave, so that they come back in a position of power rather than handicap? The business prerogative for having women at work is undeniable. Diversity in ideas, diplomacy et al. It’s time for us to shake up the system; it’s time for us to take Panga!