When festivals weigh heavier on women

The Supreme Court recently remarked on the importance of shared responsibilities at home in the context of a divorce petition it was hearing. The observation reflects the skewed burden on women managing household chores, and festivals only add to that work load, physically and mentally, writes Tarang Sinha.

The Supreme Court recently told a petitioner, “You’re not marrying a maid, you’re marrying a life partner,” adding that the husband had to equally participate in all household chores. The Court made this observation when a petitioner had sought dissolution of marriage on the grounds that his wife’s reluctance to cook was a form of “cruelty.”

This got me thinking about festival days and a discussion on social media where some women said that they feel more stressed during festivals because they had to handle everything alone, especially if they are working professionals. Many times, it even provokes conflict on festive days. It generally arises from fatigue, lack of acknowledgement from family members, and a persistent assumption that such responsibilities are a woman’s duty.  

This writer recalls festivals and celebrations as carefree days, simply because household chores were taken care of, conveniently so, by mothers, grandmothers and aunts. Today, in spite of women forming a major chunk of the workforce, expectations at home remain largely unchanged. And in case the woman works from home — well, is that even work, even though it requires her to burn the midnight oil? 

When it comes to festivals, the workload increases manifold without anyone sharing it. Be it deciding the menu, cooking elaborate delicacies, decorating the house, arranging outfits, entertaining guests and sometimes, shopping as well. 

Aditi, a 42-year-old professor based in Mumbai, says, “The biggest stress for me is not only about physical work but also the mental load. My husband is completely disinterested in festivals or celebrations of any kind, which means that everything, from planning to execution and managing the children is entirely up to me.” What would make it easier for her? She replies, “I don’t expect grand gestures, and instead value shared responsibility and emotional participation. It’s less about reducing the workload and more about not feeling alone in it. But I still choose to put in the effort because I want my children to grow up with a sense of celebration and warmth.”

Pressure of expectations and social conditioning

Harshita, an author based in Dubai, points to the pressure of expectation and conditioning. “There’s a general assumption that everything has to be prim and proper,” she says. “I’m learning to let go of the pressure, and truly enjoy festivities.”

Anitha (name changed), a working professional from Bengaluru, shares a different perspective. “For me, it was more of an emotional burden during the festivals. After marriage, whenever I entered the kitchen during the festivals, it caused a rift with my mother-in-law, as it was her territory, her rules, and I had to do things her way. If only the person I married had taken the responsibility to ensure that his wife was treated as an equal member of his family, then doing chores would have been easier.”

When everyone joins hands

However, it’s not that bleak. Sometimes, men do step in and share the workload. This writer’s husband fondly remembers how during Makar Sankranti, his father would sit next to his mother as she prepared ‘laduaas’ (puffed rice or roasted sesame jaggery balls) by the earthen stove and help her roll them. It wasn’t just about helping, it was also about the warmth and togetherness.

In Bihar, Chhath Puja is observed and celebrated with great reverence and patience. Men who generally won’t fetch a glass of water by themselves generously lend their hand in the chores it requires. Whether it’s making multiple trips to the market or packing the dalia (woven bamboo basket) and soop (bamboo winnowing tray) carefully for Ganga ghat. The men would carry those soops and dalias on their heads as everyone walked towards the ghat. But what has stayed with me most were the nights – sitting together with relatives, chatting, walking down memory lane while waiting for the famous thekua and other delicacies to be deep fried in ghee. 

Harshita shares an uplifting incident. “During a Deepavali dinner we were hosting, a male guest asked what mithai I had made at home. My husband replied that she had made the entire dinner; mithai could easily be bought.”

And it suddenly reminds me of the Saraswati Puja which is celebrated with utmost zest. Almost every other house held this puja, and we were no exception. One of my reclusive uncles who generally wouldn’t do anything except studying in his “not to be entered by anyone” room, would come downstairs to quietly build a wooden stage, draped in bright, colourful sarees, for Maa Saraswati. 

Festivals are meant to bring families together, to experience shared joy. In many homes, lamps are lit, sweets are served and laughter fills the rooms. But somewhere in the middle of all this, a woman moves from the kitchen to verandahs and rooms, to make sure everything is right, rarely having the time to pause and be part of the celebrations in a real sense. Perhaps, change doesn’t arrive in courtrooms alone, but in smaller shifts in thinking and understanding. Where work is seen, shared and appreciated. 

(The writer is a bilingual author and translator.)