In a historic victory for the women’s
movement in Mizoram, the State Law Commission is now in the final process of
reviewing The Mizo Marriage Bill, 2013, The Mizo Inheritance Bill, 2013, and
The Mizo Divorce Bill, 2013, which will be introduced in the State Assembly
after public consultations across the Mizoram. This is the result of a unique
struggle that has gone on for over a decade, waged by the Mizo Hmeichhe
Insuihkhawm Pawl (MHIP), an apex body representing several local women’s
groups.
After years of advocacy and repeated attempts
at sending innumerable memorandums and draft bills to the Assembly and other
executive bodies, the MHIP finally managed to push the state system into
considering judicial and legislative changes in the marriage, divorce, and
inheritance and succession laws in order to safeguard the interests of ordinary
women.
The dynamic Pi Sangkhumi, 60, former
president of MHIP, is a happy woman today. It’s been her long-cherished dream
to ensure reforms related to marriage and inheritance as she has seen
generations of Mizo women suffer because of the legal biases in the system.
Explaining the need for these reforms, she says, “A Mizo woman has never had
any rights over property whether moveable, immoveable or even gifts, known as
‘bungrua’ in the local language, that are given to her at the time of marriage.
Her husband can divorce her at any time and throw her out of the house without
providing any financial support.”
Traditionally, Mizo women have played a
productive role not just within their homes – as wives and mothers – but have
also made a mark as entrepreneurs, teachers and officers in the state
administration. However, just as the state’s history has been strife-torn, so
has the life of its women, who have borne the worst consequences of the
instability and violence that had marked the region.
The years when the Mizo National Front (MNF),
an underground movement, was actively agitating against the government were
particularly difficult. Earlier known as the Mizo National Famine Front, formed
to help ease the immense suffering of the local people during the severe Mautam
Famine of 1959, the organisation renamed itself the MNF in 1961. The state’s
inaction during famine led to a wave of secessionist uprisings and armed
insurrections during the entire decade of the sixties.
Pi Sangkhumi can “never forget those
difficult days”. Her father, one of the key leaders of the MNF, was killed
during the peak of the movement. His death spelled tough times for her family
but they coped as best as they could. A year later, in 1965, she went for
higher studies to Shillong, the capital of the neighbouring state of Meghalaya.
Being a brilliant student enabled her to study and live free-of-cost there, as
her expenses were covered by scholarships. “There was no way financial
support could come from home,” she
recalls.
All the while that Pi Sangkhumi was coping
with her personal struggles she was acutely aware of the difficulties being
faced by women at large during those two-decade-long bloody conflict – from
mid-1960s - mid 80s. Today , Pi Sangkhumi and the Mizos at large area
attempting hard to leave behind those dark memories, so much was the pain that
narrating and recollecting was something that Pi Sangkhumi would better avoid and
dismissed. To cite the situation of torture Mizo women face , mention maybe
made of an incident such as the
brutal gang rape of two young women by army jawans on a cold November night in
1966 , when the MNF attacked a convoy of Army personnel advancing towards
Champhai village in east Mizoram. In retaliation, the Army herded the villagers
together and set fire to their homes. The two women, the daughters of prominent
community leaders , were held separately in a small shack hut where soldiers
allegedly took turns in raping them.
After 47 years, a compensation of Rs 5
lakh each has recently been announced by the central government for the two
rape survivors, who were in a pitiable condition today. Reportedly one of them
just sits quietly all day with a blank expression on her face. She needs
assistance to even move around. The other survivor suffers from extreme
paranoia and nightmares. She refuses to sleep alone and is suspicious of
everyone around her. This story is common to many victims who have endured such
traumas during the years of the revolt.
It was these crimes being committed against
women that prompted various women’s groups from across the state and even
outside to come together and form a powerful organisation that worked to fight
for the collective rights of the women of the state. The MHIP was created in
1974 when Mizoram was still a Union Territory – it got full statehood in 1986 –
and it literally means binding women together. Its logo ‘hmui’, a charkha,
symbolises Mizo women’s creativity and sense of self reliance. It is also the
device they use to weave the beautiful ‘puanchei’, their traditional dress.
Tlawmngaihna, or philanthropy – a key characteristic of the Mizo society – was
the other reason behind the setting up of MHIP. Besides implementing
several initiatives for the empowerment of women, particularly related to
education and entrepreneurship development in the recent decades, MHIP has been
focusing on campaigning against domestic violence, rape and other forms of
gender violence. One of their main challenges has been to convince people to
change traditional systems and customs that suppress women, both with the
family and in society.
Pi Sangkhumi is of the opinion that while “Mizo women are definitely a part
of the work force now, but they are still not the decision-makers and that
needs to change”. Which is why MHIP pursing the legislative route.
The practice of quoting a “bride price” irks Pi Sangkhumi no
end. “It’s cash or kind paid
to the bride’s father during marriage but, I ask, is one supposed to ‘purchase’
one’s bride? What status will such a woman have in her marital home?” remarks the veteran activist, who
is also a teacher and a retired member of the State Public Service Commission.
According to her, the “bride price” custom started around half
a century ago and was meant to be “a phuahchop”, or a practice introduced
temporarily. But over the years, it has become a ‘tradition’ that is faithfully
being followed. “A regressive practice should be prohibited by the legal
system. We cannot overturn a custom but we can definitely make it better or
modify it,” she argues.
Drawing from examples like child marriage, the purdah system
and sati – practices which are illegal in India now – Pi Sangkhumi asks, “Why can’t we legally ban the Mizo
bride price practice, too?” She
further adds, “When laws such
as the Hindu Marriage Act can be passed and implemented in other parts of
India, why can’t we pass a Mizo Inheritance or Divorce Law?”
Another demand that she and her group are making is for a 33
per cent reservation in the political system. As a first step towards realising
their dream, MHIP is advocating for an increased induction of women candidates
into local political parties.
Surely if anyone can make change happen for Mizo women it’s
the MHIP, which has a presence in 16 blocks in the state with 12 joint
headquarters and 740 local branches. Pi Sangkhumi, who has penned the history
of the Mizo women’s movement, titled ‘MHIP Chanchin 1974-2009’, says with a
broad smile, “During our
general assembly meetings when more than 2,000 women gather, even the Vanapa
hall – the biggest public hall in Mizoram – is small for us. That’s the kind of
woman power we have.”
Having worked hard on the legislation on marriage, divorce and
inheritance, Pi Sangkhumi is on to another task these days: getting important
laws related to domestic violence, rape and human rights translated into the
Mizo language. She is doing this because she strongly feels “it is important that every
hardworking Mizo woman understands her rights”.
Women's Feature Service, September 2013
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