The Final Farewell Explores Women's Place In Performing Last Rites

What are the beliefs associated with death in India? How do final rites and rituals reveal the misogyny and caste-based discrimination that plague India? Based on thorough research, keen observation, and personal interviews, The Final Farewell is an ode to life, death and all in between.

An excerpt from ‘The Final Farewell: Understanding the Last Rites and Rituals of India’s Major Faiths’, by Minakshi Dewan, Published by: HarperCollins, India

Women Performing The Last Rites

Many famous women, film and political personalities, have been in the news for lighting the pyre of their deceased family members, setting a precedent. For instance, Indian actor and TV presenter Mandira Bedi hit the headlines for performing her husband’s last rites in the recent past. In 2014, Pankaja Munde lit the pyre of her father, Gopinath Munde, a senior BJP leader in the western state of Maharashtra. Further, in 2018, foster daughter Namita Kaul performed the end-of-life rituals of former prime minister Atal Behari Vajpayee (Pandey 2021).

Minor changes are underway in the arena of last rites and rituals. While analysing these changes, I spoke to sociologists and ritual specialists. According to sociologist Dr Ravi Nandan Singh, people are ready to accommodate minor alterations until other significant traditions like mukhagni and funeral pyre are kept intact. He told me, ‘If one has to let go of some practices, then a daughter performing the final rites will be more conducive than tampering with the structural traditions. However, the essential traditions are retained here, but positions are adjusted.’ According to him, perhaps more challenging would be daughters seeking a distinctive funerary practice than the traditionally prescribed one.

But, I feel daughters and wives performing the last rites is a significant change. It questions the stereotypical beliefs around the cruciality of male members offering mukhagni to the deceased. Moreover, it gives women the agency to dismantle age-old traditions by deciding on their involvement in life-cycle rituals.

When I spoke to a funeral priest, he had something interesting to share. ‘These days, even women are coming forward. We have seen in many instances where daughters perform the last rites of the parents even though a son is present. With changing times, we need to accept these alterations. We equally support women’s participation in the last rites of the deceased,’ confirmed a funeral priest from Delhi. However, this might vary in other geographies, where women are barred from entering the crematoriums.

In the Sikh religion, theoretically, any family member can perform the last rites. While talking to Gyani Atma Singh, a senior Granthi, he said, ‘When we bring up our sons and daughters equally—why can’t daughters light the pyre? Likewise, a wife can light the husband’s funeral pyre too.’ But, I am not sure how many women in practice participate in the final rites of their loved ones among Sikhs.

My sister and I conducted my father’s final rites. ‘Yeh mere do ladke hain (these are my two sons),’ Papa used to say with pride. We are two sisters, and there was no question of anyone else performing Papa’s final rituals. Even he wanted it that way, and we honoured his last wish. My Hindu extended family members were seemingly comfortable with this decision. I was the designated chief mourner for Papa’s antim sanskars. However, I would say it was a mixed bag of feelings—challenging and satisfying simultaneously. First, I lit the funeral pyre and saw his flesh burning, leaving bones and ashes behind. Then, I ritually cracked Papa’s skull with a long stick in the middle, releasing his soul. At that point, I felt relieved to have fulfilled Papa’s antim ichchha (final wish).

Inspired by my experience as the chief mourner during papa’s last rites, I wanted to capture the involvement of other women during the end-of-life rituals of their loved ones. I tried to understand the motivations and sentiments involved. So, I wrote a lengthy Facebook post asking women friends and acquaintances to share their stories. In a few hours, I received an overwhelming response resulting in heartwarming conversations with women from different walks of life.

Madhumita, an author-journalist, contacted me. She told me, ‘I lost my parents very young. My father was a devout Brahmin who liked following traditional rituals. So, when Ma died, he involved my sister and me in performing her rites. However, my sister was not in the country when he passed away. So, I did the cremation ceremony, but we conducted the thirteen-day rituals together. None of my relatives flinched. My dad had an older brother, but no one objected. I had a conversation with the priest, who told me that it’s nowhere in the Hindu scriptures that women shouldn’t be doing this. It has more to do with convention than what’s written in the scriptures. So, even though I am not religious, I performed everything for my father—fulfilling his wishes.’ There have undoubtedly been shifts in how people think. However, she told me there would be a substantial regional and urban-rural divide regarding women’s participation. ‘I conversed with a friend from Karnataka who said that Bengalis tend to be less rigid than other communities,’ she told me.

I understand that the changes would not happen at the same pace in a remote village compared to an urban metropolis. Even Dr Ravi corroborated that these modifications would be context-specific. There are regions in India that are more progressive. He said, ‘The entire Punjab region has been more reformist than other parts in India—the social reform movements like Arya Samaj could be the reason. Likewise, West Bengal is reformed partly because of social reform movements. Moreover, saw the first crematoria getting built. In contrast, one won’t find many women at the crematoriums in Banaras. Furthermore, things would be different if you were to go down to eastern Uttar Pradesh or Bihar. In these regions, gender segregation would be more profound. So specific changes would be allowed in some parts—they may not become routine—not an industrial change.’