By Michelle Tan, Intern – Research Department.

Dressed in a plain brown Saree, a 44-year-old woman from a remote rural village in Ambala (Haryana state) peered at us curiously when we knocked on the broken, rusty gates of her house. “Namaste,” my colleague Amrita said. “We are from Centre for Social Research and would like to conduct a quick survey with you. Can we come in?” The woman nodded her head shyly, smiled at us and then excitedly beckoned us into the front yard of her house.
To say that she lived in a “house” might be somewhat of a misnomer, especially since her “house” was in fact really a shed, and there were half-laid stones and bricks strewn everywhere. The walls were Grey and incomplete, and construction had obviously long been in progress. We sat down on the only piece of furniture to begin what we had initially imagined would be a typical conversation on female foeticide—or, as typical as a conversation on female foeticide could be. What we didn’t expect was that our host would so warmly and immediately open up to us, revealing her most personal experiences of sexs election, discrimination and the ordeal she went through when standing up against it.
Already a mother of one boy and two girls, our host was pregnant for the fourth time when her in-laws and husband found out from a sonogram that she was once again expecting a girl child. Angered by the news, the family adamantly insisted that she should undergo an abortion. They, like so many in India, believed that a girl child was a waste of family resources. A girl, they argued, was of no particular value and as a result of dowry, she would also be impossibly expensive. But unlike many mothers who silently suffered, our host was strong-willed and refused to give up her child or undergo an abortion. She was henceforth disgraced and expelled from her family, slammed in the face with a quick divorce. Shamed by the scandals of their daughter, her parents put her up for a second arranged marriage. She married again, but her husband died young in the Indian army, and she became a widow. At the moment, she continues to bravely and independently support four young children on her own—an incredibly rare, brave and admirable feat especially in rural India.
We left that day, humbled and in awe of this incredibly strong woman. Her story serves as a painful and grave reminder that female foeticide, for all its supposed allegations and denials, is still a real and pervasive reality in much of Indian society today. Her story reminds us that women who transgress from the norm and elect to stand up against their family to save a female fetus risk losing their livelihoods, if not their lives. Her story stands out not only because she was empowered in spite of lacking a formal education or any privileges whatsoever, but also because she spoke with no complaint and no expectations of sympathy. That’s where she stands victorious: because this one woman in her plain brown Saree does not see herself as an object of pity, but as a woman in her totality who can and will get her due in her own right.
View more photos from the April 5-7 baseline study in Ambala at Centre for Social Research’s Flickr account.