For the last month or so, my ears seem to have developed an unassuming addiction towards a pair of golden hoop earrings that I wear everyday. Round, circular and almost weightless, these accessories have become a part of my personality. In fact, my affection for these pieces of jewelry is so intense, that I find myself unable to leave my room without them dangling from my ears like assuring friends every morning.
Every night, as I unpick these earrings from my ears, I find them surrendering into my palms like exhausted soldiers. As I hold them together, and make sure that they are tightly fastened before setting them on my bedside table, I run an affectionate finger down their backs, smiling because just by way of their structure, these unassuming objects remind me of home.
An Indian woman living and studying in the U.S., I’m often gripped by moments of unexplainable nostalgia. In addition to fondly reminiscing the scents and spices that made India the vibrant nation that I hold so dear, I find my attention redirected to the people that give a voice, identity and structure to my nation. This is where the golden earrings that dangle from my ears come in. Scientifically similar to the circles of beauty that the women of Punjab in India wear on their ears, these jewels make me feel like one of them despite being miles away.
My desire to identify with these individuals comes from a point of almost desperate longing. While the world may yearn for gold, money and fame, I find myself pining for strength. Taking care of myself in a foreign country is a delightful and demanding process at the same time, and there are times when I am overwhelmed by this desire to disappear into the endless abyss that is contained by the crook of my elbow. And, when I think of the women of Punjab, and their ability to balance responsibility and happiness on their hip almost as though it is a weightless substance, I am consumed with envy. No matter how hard I try, I am unable to imitate the effortlessness of their demeanor.
In addition to such demonstrations of strength, these women also harbor personalities that are delightfully complete. Contrary to what people might assume, they’re so much more than shivering shadows wrapped around the pendulum of patriarchy. They’re complete personalities, who possess the ability to love and be loved in the same breath. Armed with the intensity of spirit and rawness of body, they launch themselves into each aspect of human existence, right from success and failure to romance and sexuality. Their unafraid nature pours into this free-willed expression of this sensuality, and Naram Kalja, a song from the jolting biopic: Amar Singh Chamkila expresses this in a manner that makes several diversely-shaped goosebumps sprout on my skin
When I heard this song for the first time, I came to it with the understanding that it was performed real-time by the local women of Punjab. About a week before listening to this song, I had attended the South Asian Literature and Arts Festival at Stanford University where I heard Imitiaz Ali, the director of Amar Singh Chamkila talk about how this song, which consisted of women singing, dancing and celebrating, actually recorded them in their most original element. “They were just having a very good time together,” Ali described.
Naram Kalja, which is a Punjabi term meaning soft heart, encapsulates the identity of Indian women. With their soft hearts and blushing eyes, these women are like fluid photographs, anxiously fitting into the pre-constructed frames of their existing relationships. More often than not, they’re defined by the men around them, and instead of introducing themselves by their first name, they choose to call themselves a wife, mother and sister instead. The song Naram Kalja does not hesitate to identify this tendency, and goes on to portray sardonic disdain towards the inherent patriarchy that this male-driven societal convention brings to the table.
If the scope of Naram Kalja commenced and concluded only at the mere identification of patriarchy, I possibly wouldn’t have been drawn to it so much, and then this article may not have existed. Suffice to say, it is the unabashed sensuality contained within the lyrics, combined with the stark desire to pursue physical pleasure that magnetically drew me to this composition.
Driven by a surge of vernacular irony, the song is a teasing feather tickling the ear of these practitioners of patriarchy, who assume women to be their physical property. Surprisingly, in Naram Kalja, the brightly-dressed women who fluttered around in the forest-wrought areas of Punjab like fireflies in the day, did not protest against this ideology of masculine ownership. In a manner that is delightfully tongue-in-cheek, they said that the objectification went both ways. If men thought of women as objects of pleasure and fulfillment, women did that as well.
Above everything else, these women talked about how the Shakespearean fire of sexual passion and the sensation of the body being aflame with desire was not unique to men. In literature and poetry, intimacy has often been portrayed as an act of consumption, and Naram Kalja affirmed that the role of the consumer in this scenario was something claimed by both men and women. Contrary to what conventional societal belief may state, the women were not the prey.
My favorite, and possibly the most significant part, of Naram Kalja for me was the feminine inclusivity that the video contained. As a piece of individual composition, the song shattered several stereotypes. The most significant glass ceiling that it broke, in my opinion, was the restrictive dimension of age. By including a diverse group of women participants, the song asserted that sexual desire and the longing for physical fulfillment was not limited to the younger generation. While the older generation might display whiter locks, their desire to establish pleasure-focused physical relationships was still as young as ever. As I finished watching the video of the song, it was fulfilling to observe how both the older generation and the younger generation were engaging in an unabashed, yet traditionally rooted conversation about sexual pleasure. There was no reluctance, no lowered eyes or no uncomfortable shifting. Instead, there was appreciation, agreement and most importantly, unconditional acknowledgement of the soft and fiery naram kalja that existed within all of us.
