Name Dopdi Mejhen, age twenty-seven, husband Dulna Majhi (deceased), domicile Cherakhan, Bankrajharh, information whether dead or alive and/or assistance in arrest, one hundred rupees. . .
The story begins with this quote, which establishes itself in the style of an official document of sorts. This reads like a dossier on a criminal; it is informative, blank in tone, and intended to be solicitous of a response from those putative characters who see it. Devi uses a few different genres in this story, which critics have looked at in order to analyze the nature of the tribals' fight against the government. Cielo G. Festino and Liliam Cristina Marins write, "The style of the short story is highly functional as it articulates the political content of the narrative through the parody of different forms of official discourse: want ads, police talk, police dossier, Indian Constitution, Army Handbook, official press. If the aim of these different textual genres is to translate rebel Dopdi and her comrades into official language, thus simultaneously renaming and silencing her, Devi’s aim in the story is to retranslate these forms of discourse so that the Tribals, in this case the Santal community, will be perceived in their tragic fight against the establishment."
A daughter born, to husband or death, she's already gone.
This is one of the most powerful quotes of any of Devi's short stories because it is so bleak and so inarguable. Giri knows it and her mother knows it, and we assume that all Indian women know it—when a woman has a daughter, that child is automatically fated to be lost to her, whether it is in marriage and/or death. Equating marriage and death is telling, and reinforced by the unhappy marriages present in almost all of Devi's stories.
People were so amazed, even stunned by this that they were left speechless. What happened to Bela and Pori was happening to many others these days. But leaving one's husband was quite another matter. What kind of woman would leave her husband of many years just like that? Now, they all felt certain that the really bad one was not Aulchand, but Giribala.
While Giri might have garnered a modicum of sympathy when Aulchand's selling of Bela came to light, and some when Pori experienced the same thing, that sympathy vanishes when she leaves her husband. That is something that women just do not do; they must stay in their particular position in life even if it is hard and unsatisfying, for if they do not, then they threaten to upend the social structure. Giri leaving Aulchand is a bold move and one that means that she has effectively left her whole community.
Cancer constantly defeats patient and doctor. One patient's cancer means the patient's death and the defeat of science, and of course of the doctor.
This quote is what the doctor treating Jashoda thinks—that cancer is frustrating for the patient, yes, but also for the doctor. The doctor tries to save the patient from cancer but often fails, and thus science fails too. Part of that makes sense, for doctors want to save their patients and make progress in their field. However, this doctor prefaces this thought by mentally chastsizing Jashoda and other women for not dealing with their cancer earlier. He does not think about the difficulties for poor women, or why women might not want to see a male doctor as Jashoda states. They prefer to blame the women rather than sympathize with them, prefer to diminish their identity and see them just as a disease rather than a person. Even doctors, who are supposed to view their patients with a dispassionate and equal eye, make it harder for women.
Their mother had become a distant person for a long time. Mother meant hair in a huge topknot, blindingly white clothes, a strong personality. The person lying in the hospital is someone else, not Mother.
This quote refers to the sons of Jashoda, all of whom have conveniently decided that Jashoda, who is in the hospital suffering a painful death with breast cancer, is no longer "Mother." This is a disingenuous thing to think. While most children, young or old, have a particular view of their parent, and the relationship is always defined as parent/child, this does not mean that the sons can decide that Jashoda is now too remote from them to offer the most basic sympathy. This is a lie that they have told themselves not just to make it easier that their mother is dying (which may be part of it), but because the patriarchal milieu in which they operate makes it easy to dismiss women after they are no longer useful.
Dulna had explained to Dopdi, Dear, this is best! We won't get family and children this way. But who knows? Landowner and moneylender and policemen might one day be wiped out!
Dulna explains to Dopdi that there are certain sacrifices they will have to make as they devote their lives to the cause. He knows that their itinerant, dangerous life precludes them from having kids and establishing a family, but this is worth it because they are doing something greater. We don't hear Dopdi's response but it is implied that she is fine with this. This is a significant exchange because we have the male character telling his wife that she does not need to have children or fulfill some sort of traditional role, something practically anathema to mainstream Indian society. By having Dulna say this, Devi is suggesting that gender relations among tribal men and women are much more nuanced.
"Never seen a child like this. All she keeps saying is 'Why.'"
We do not know much about Khiri other than this brief exchange between her and the narrator, but Khiri seems annoyed by her daughter's "obstinate" questions and cannot understand why she is like that. Based on the comments made about the Shabars, who do not complain or ask questions about their low socio-economic status, Moyna is an outlier. She refuses to bite her tongue when she wants to know why something is the way it is, which garners her the disapprobation of her parent and, it can be assumed, other members of her community. As she is a child, she does not appear to be punished for this, but when reading Moyna's story alongside that of "Bayen," it is a sobering reminder that a woman who steps out of line might very well be met with a harsh, punitive response from the community.
"I will learn to read and find the answers to my questions."
With this simple statement, Moyna tenaciously declares her desire to transcend her socio-economic situation by attaining education. Other conclusions are that she does not need anyone to tell her the answers if she can find them herself; she does not want to remain ignorant; and she will persevere even though it might be labor-intensive or difficult. It is this quest for knowledge that elevates Moyna above others in her community.
"Who makes a bayen out of a person, father?"
"God."
This is a particularly frustrating exchange, because "God" did not make Chandi a bayen—Malindar and the Doms did. Perhaps Malindar knows what he did by condemning Chandi and thus is outright lying to his son, but it is more likely that most, if not all, of him believes that Chandi "changed" and that it was due to some sort of supernatural source. Chandi was behaving differently, and she did quit her job, and when combined with entrenched patriarchy that dictates women behave a certain way and uses labels of witchcraft to punish them if they do not, Malindar might truly think something happened to his wife. This is just as problematic, however, and should not mean Malindar is off the hook; the patriarchy's power is insidious whether explicitly or unconsciously wielded.
The Dom community did not forget her. The Doms were keeping an eye on her, to her complete ignorance. Covertly or otherwise, a society can maintain its vigil if it wants to. There is nothing a society cannot do.
This ominous quote reveals the insidious nature of the caste system in India, and why Chandi could not continue to defy the caste's responsibilities. Devi describes the Doms' power like a secret society, capable and desirous of monitoring its people in order to maintain its stability. Even if the Doms were behaving in a manner slightly more aggressive than the situation might have required, the entire caste system would support it because that is how the social structure perpetuates itself—if one member of one caste deviated from their role, it might set a dangerous precedent.
