The ghoonghat: guardian of beauty
As women's work has moved from the kitchen to the office, the ghoonghat (veil) is slowly being set aside. Its benefits, its drawbacks and its beauty in the eyes of poets: a balanced look at a tradition.
If a tradition takes centuries to form, breaking it takes even more time and courage. This is true of the purdah system as well. The ghoonghat, the veil drawn over the face, is slowly being set aside. One reason purdah has lost ground is that a woman's sphere of work has expanded from the kitchen to the office; it no longer suits working women. Yet in the cities, covering up has actually grown as a fashion. To protect themselves from the sun and pollution, young women walk about with their whole face covered by a dupatta or some other sheer fabric, and wear gloves to keep the sun off their hands. Young men are not far behind, riding through the streets with their faces masked. Meanwhile, at weddings, brides are now seen without a ghoonghat at all.
The benefits of the ghoonghat
There are both negative and positive sides to this. Seen from one angle, the ghoonghat has its advantages: it protects the body from sun and dust and shields us from the harmful effects of ultraviolet rays. Covering the face keeps the complexion fair, protects the hair and delays greying, hence the saying, "I haven't greyed my hair just sitting in the sun." Under the veil, beauty is preserved and escapes the evil eye, and then there is the pleasure of curiosity and of the long-awaited glimpse, which only a ghoonghat can offer.
Grand ceremonies are often held to unveil statues or new things. If everything is already visible, where is the curiosity? That is why temple doors are kept closed and opened only at certain times. When the doors open and close at fixed hours for the deity's adornment, the darshan has a sweetness all its own. Statues standing uncovered on platforms rarely become centres of spiritual attraction. When a bride is veiled, everyone longs to see her, and great beauty can, after all, be devastating:
This beauty is a killer, a doomsday, death itself; better it stay behind the veil, so do not try to glimpse it.
The other side
The other side of purdah also deserves attention. To eyes confined behind a ghoonghat the outside world looks blurred, and serious accidents happen. Sometimes newspapers even report brides being swapped when two wedding processions take place at once. Because of the ghoonghat, women are reduced to frogs in a well, cut off from the world, their life reduced to mere breathing. On top of that, the veil can be suffocating, and one must bear the heat as well.
There are, of course, many styles of ghoonghat. Some women veil only up to the eyes, some keep the end of the sari drawn to the nose, some to the chin, and some pull a long veil lower still. Some cover half the face from one side, and as for the way they peep out from inside, that is beyond words.
The ghoonghat through the poets' eyes
Nakedness is always ugly, while what is half-revealed is the very symbol of beauty. The moon became the finest metaphor for beauty precisely because of its phases. From the first night to the fourteenth, the waxing and waning of its veil adds to the moon's charm; the full moon itself is not what poets use as a simile.
Your face glows with the radiance of truth; there is no blemish on it. Before you even the sun grows dim. How can I call you merely moon-faced?
In truth, the ghoonghat only enhances feminine beauty:
When the veil came to rest just at her eyes, it seemed a cloud had come to rest upon a lake.
The ghoonghat can be used well or misused, and not only men but women too have done both. When a woman makes a little triangle with her fingers and looks out with one eye, poets have not held back from describing the indescribable grace of the veil, each praising its loveliness in their own way:
Now the reason she hides her face is clear: lest someone steal the way she smiles.
Changing with the times
On one hand the ghoonghat is a symbol of honour, dignity and modesty; on the other it gives rise to many kinds of accidents. Freeing ourselves from needless purdah can reduce such mishaps. But yes, accepting change in keeping with the times is what truly serves human welfare. There is no harm in covering up where it is needed, but carrying a custom around at all times merely because it is a custom can only be called unreasonable. In the end, one can only say:
This ghoonghat is the adornment of a proud glance, and when it becomes a burden, this same ghoonghat is a torment. It is the threshold of modesty and honour, says 'Yaqeen', and the marketplace of beauty's deceptions is this same ghoonghat too.
