ARTIST BIOGRAPHY: Manjula Thakur

Manjula Thakur

How old am I? I can't remember. I think my son was born when I was sixteen. He's twenty-two now.

I only went to school one day. That night brother and mother were angry with me because I hadn't learned to read. My mother said, "You haven't learned anything and meanwhile you aren't doing any housework." After that I stayed at home, often grinding flour while my mother cooked.

I was very thin and my mother of ten beat me. My father was away in Calcutta and I rarely saw him. My grandfather took pity on me and sometimes I slept with him. If I was sent to the shop to buy something, I'd put a little money aside to bring him tobacco or oil. You are my child, he told me. My grandfather had 3 daughters but they had all died. He said that he'd always wanted to see his daughters' marriages and that is why he wanted to arrange my marriage. I was twelve when he arranged for a visitor to come and see me. At twelve, what did I know? My mother combed my hair and coached me to give the guest water to wash his feet. The guest was pleased with me, and my marriage to a young boy in a distant village was fixed. Even so, during the wedding people said, she's not pretty, she's dark, her hair is too short." I stayed inside and cried. My aunt came and said, "Why are you crying--look, your aunts are all happy-"

After four days I was supposed to spend the night with my husband who was thirteen. My aunt locked me in the room where he was sound asleep. I stayed awhile and then I escaped. My mother said, "stay there until he gives you some money and jewellery.” After another night my aunt asked, "What did he give you." I said he’d given me nothing. She said I must stay with him and take oil to massage him. One week later when he went back to his village we still hadn't stayed in the room together. After one year someone from his village sent red powder such as a married woman puts in the part in her hair. Everyone cried because this meant it was time for me to go. When he came to fetch me I spent that night with my mother, and then the next morning I went off with my husband.

At my household I had to perform many rituals to show I had household knowledge, such as scaling a fish with my right hand. I cried so much. His father called me "parrot." Traditionally you are given some rice pudding but you must put your little finger in it and refuse it. I did that, but then his father said, "Parrot, wouldn't you like some rice?" I said I would, and then he fed me and everyone laughed. I didn't know you were supposed to refuse all types of food. My husband only earned 150 rupees per month which he gave to his father. I was sixteen when my first son was so sick and my father-in-law forbade me to go to Janakpur. So one morning very early, with my husband's little brother I walked to Janakpur where I'd never been before. The doctor was so angry with me for not bringing my baby earlier. Then I returned home and my in-laws were angry with me thinking I'd been wandering around Janakpur and spending unnecessary money. They thought I could cure the baby with the juice from a leaf--but I knew they had lost four baby boys with that type of care.

When my second son was born my husband had better work. I had the feeling this second son brought luck, and then I hoped for a daughter but I had yet another son. My father-in-law who'd lost four sons said each son was his own who had returned and only the fifth would be mine. But I wanted an operation so I left the house at four a.m. My husband refused to sign the waiver with me and so I went alone. I was so happy going off to have my operation but my mother-in-law cried. When I came out of my operation, all my family members were waiting outside. I cried, too, then because I was in pain, and I didn't want to take the 100 rupees the doctor paid me. For ten days my mother-in-law fed me until I was able to cook again. At that time I didn't know how I could educate my sons so I bought 15 hens and began selling the eggs. Then everyone forgave me for having an operation because I was so industrious.

When my youngest son was seven we still didn't have enough rice. I heard a foreigner was in the village asking if women could paint. I was told I should speak with her, but I was very afraid and shy- I'd still only gone to Janakpur twice in my life. But she came and told me if you paint well, I can give you some money. I imagined what it would be like to travel. I was too shy to talk to her but my husband coached me in how to put my designs on paper. Others in the village said bad things about me, and my husband told me I could only paint for the foreigner if I stayed in the house.

My husband was jealous in the beginning. When I was invited to Chitwan and when I planned to go to Kathmandu he threatened to cutoff my legs. Now he understands everything. On my first trip to Kathmandu I was chaperoned by my father-in-law. We were warned not to go since it was during the revolution in Nepal. But I already had the ticket and I wanted to go. My husband's father was very happy on that trip, and after that my husband accepted my new life.

Now I can buy milk, pens and books, and pay the tuition for my children. I'm strong now. I can move ahead. For instance, I know how to talk on the phone. Once someone behind me asked a question and I answered it, and people were shocked and angry that I'd spoken to my husband's elder brother. Now I talk on the phone to that elder brother very often.

My father-in-law used to tell me I should only wear thick rough cloth so that no one could see me and there would be no need for petticoats or blouses. Now I can wear what I please. I can buy clothes for my sons, and sometimes I splurge and cook fine foods.

I learned painting from my mother. When she would paint gods on the pavillion we Brahmins build for the boys' hair cutting ceremonies, she would ask me to fill in the color of the flowers. I also practiced drawing in dirt. Only when I came to my husband's house did I start making designs on the walls of our house. I can see now that I started out life just like the poor bride Anjur in the folktale, but now I'm manager of our painting section.

When I go outside sometimes people still criticize me. But I know that if they say bad things I just don't have to look at them, and if they don't understand my life today they'll understand it tomorrow.