Anandi, A Daughter of Lilavati
A while ago, a group I belonged to had this activity where we were asked to name women scientists in India. I struggled to find names, and that struck me as sad. Surely there must have been inspiring women scientists in my country too. Was it that no one chronicled their lives? Or maybe it was just me who was blissfully unaware of their existence? So this weekend, when I was looking for a book to read, I searched for something that would shed more light on this topic. And that’s how I stumbled upon Lilavati’s daughters, a collection of 100 biographical essays on various women scientists hailing from India scattered across a multitude of disciplines.
I started reading, and I was immersed into stories of various women and their struggles in science. But one story instantly stood out for me: it tugged on my heartstrings and inspired me, and it is that I choose to narrate to my Reader today.
Disclaimer: My narration is based mostly on the essay I have read, and the few articles I could find on the internet. I am yet to read a detailed biography on the subject, and therefore I will ask the reader to forgive me for any inaccuracies in the story I tell. I also take the liberty of not being overtly emphatic on facts such as the names of people and the exact dates and choose instead to focus on the narrative itself.
The subject of my story is a young girl called Yamuna, who was born in Maharashtra in 1865. As was the culture in those times, she was married off to a widower named Gopalrao at the age of nine, after which she took on the name ‘Anandi’. Till that point, her life followed the typical path of a woman in her times. But her marriage to this man was perhaps what caused it to diverge from the norm. Because you see, her husband was different. He was quite progressive in his views, and he was a staunch believer of women’s education.
It is said that one day, when he went into the kitchen and found Anandi cooking, he beat her in a fury of rage — he wanted her to study and not cook. I am by no means supportive of domestic abuse, but I draw your attention to contrast this against the norm of the times, where most women were beaten up by husbands for studying. It is thus that a confused child of nine began her academic stint. She learned to read and write, primarily to please her husband. However, in the process, she discovered her love for education. When she was done with primary education, her husband was interested in her higher education and insisted that she study further.
Anandi pondered upon what she would like to study, and came up with an answer that was revolutionary for her time: she wanted to be a physician. She had lost her child due to limited medical care soon after childbirth, and this traumatic experience had shown her how dire a need there was for women physicians in India. Her husband encouraged her, and they began their arduous search for a college where Anandi could pursue medicine. Her husband wrote letters to many people across the world, and one such letter of his to an American missionary was published.
It is this letter that a woman in the US, Theodicia Carpenter, happened to read .The story of this couple touched her and she offered to host Anandi in the US while she pursued medicine. Her husband, who was unable to secure a job in the States, made the brave and unorthodox decision of sending her alone to study. Anandi, a woman of 18, in a famous speech at Serampore College, explained her decision to study medicine and asked for support. She was supported and applauded by many people all over India, however, needless to say, she and her husband were also persecuted by the followers of the orthodox culture that prevailed at the time.
Anandi found a friend and a kindred spirit in Theodicia, and she applied to Woman’s Medical College of Pennsylvania, which was the second women’s programme in the world to offer medicine, and she secured an admission there. The culture, food and the weather were a shock to her, and she struggled to adapt. She grew progressively weaker, and her husband’s letters grew stormier. He accused her of not being true to Indian culture, and she was puzzled and disappointed by his attitude. Does he resent me because I have outgrown him? But everything I am today, I am because of him, she mused.A direct quote:
But I had always found it difficult to figure out my husband.
Sometimes I used to feel that he was way below me and pictured him at the bottom of a ladder while I was at the top. But then the next minute I reminded myself that he was the one who had given me access to the ladder in the first place. He was my husband and my teacher.
Despite her various struggles, she persisted, and she graduated with an MD in 1886, at the age of 21. The first woman physician of India. She received a congratulatory letter from Queen Victoria, and her husband was also present at her graduation. This was one of the happiest days of her life. Soon after, she fell seriously ill, and upon being admitted to a hospital, was told that she was suffering from tuberculosis. The doctors advised that she head back to India, citing that the weather there would be more conducive to her recovery.
The couple came back to India, however, she was refused treatment by orthodox Indian physicians on the grounds that she had crossed the ocean. Medicine was sent to her from America, but it did not improve her health. She kept struggling and pursuing medicine. Ultimately, within a year of her return to India, she succumbed to her disease and died in 1887, at the very young age of 22.
Her ashes are in a cemetery in New York, placed there by the same Theodicia. A crater on Venus has been named after her.
I write this, 133 years and 3 days after her death, keenly mourning her loss, wishing that the people of my country could have seen beyond religion and culture and been humane to her. That they had applauded her decision and encouraged her to grow instead of stifling her progress and denying her of something as basic as medical care. Why did she have to die? How many women would she have treated? How many lives would she have saved? How many more would she have encouraged? Did she go through her entire life in vain? — the struggles of bearing the wrath of society, the struggles of leaving home and a husband and going abroad, the struggles of poverty, the struggles of having a disgruntled and unsupportive spouse, the struggles of poor health — did all of this amount to nothing? These are questions that ricochet in my head without answers. Well, all but the last one.
The facts that I am writing this today and that you are reading it go to show us that her struggles weren’t in vain. She leaves behind her a powerful and inspiring legacy, one that outlasts her and will survive the vicissitudes of time.
At times, I find myself contemplating the difficulties of my life, groaning over every little step of my journey. A friend recently told me that I was one of those people who chose the difficult over the comfortable. This is something I have always prided myself upon, but it also comes at its own price. There are unmotivated days where I find myself looking at the easier path, contrasting it to what I chose, and I ask myself what was so glamorous about the struggle and why I was insane enough to pick it. The reason is this: I too, like our protagonist, wish to be a daughter of Lilavati, someone who leaves a legacy behind, even if it be in my own small way. And for that, no struggle in the world is enough of a deterrent.
Perhaps, a little spark of the fire that made this woman choose medicine against all odds, one and a half centuries ago, burns in me and you too. Find that fire, and no force in the world shall stop you. Not culture, not religion, not gender, not nationality, not even the wrath of your loved ones. I end this post on the wish that this story brings you all that it brought me: courage, resilience, inspiration and love. :)
Originally published at http://virtualramblings10.blogspot.com on March 2, 2020.
