2 MANUSHI

IN the last week of February 1983, asignificant cultural event took place in thecapital, but unfortunately, because no bignames or labels were attached to it, andalso because of lack of funds, it did notget the attention or the audiences itdeserved, and people did not even get toknow of it until it was televised four dayslater.

The event was “Bhairav Se Sohni”, thefirst ever all-women classical music festival.The festival was organized by Geetika overthree sessions on February 26 and 27, inKamani auditorium, New Delhi. Thefestival, covering both Hindustani andKarnatic music, was unique in that all theperformers, both the main artistes and theaccompanists, were women. The movingforce behind the festival and behindGeetika is Dr Shanno Khurana, a reputedvocalist, composer, and promoter of thearts.

Imaginatively structured, the festivalwas the product of a great deal ofdedicated hard work, and breathed thespirit of love for music. It took no smallcourage to open the festival with relativelyunknown artistes selected on the strengthof their work and brought together fromremote parts of the country. Frombeginning to end the festival wasconducted with a grace and dignity whichwere truly refreshing in the context oftoday’s music world where gimmicks andpersonality cults are increasingly comingto take precedence over the simplespontaneous relationship betweenmusician, music and listener.

This dignity was evident from theinauguration ceremony itself. There wereno long pompous speeches or projectionof personalities. Announcements weremade with impressive dignity by SarojVashisht from backstage, instead of havinga glittering compere on stage, as hascome to be the usual practice. Inauguratingthe festival, Begum Abida Ahmedexpressed her happiness that the stagewas now being claimed by women, whohave always given the stage over to men.She hoped that the door thus opened

for the emergence of women performerswas a sign of things to come, and that thiswould be the first of many such festivals.

Thakur Jaideva Singh, reputedmusicologist and Shannoji’s guide,pointed out in his introductory speech thatin the recent past women singers havereceived a certain amount of recognitionbut the majority of women instrumentalistsremain in oblivion because platforms arenot made available to them, He said thefestival was the realization of Shanno’sdream of a forum for women artistes,particularly for those of them who playinstruments traditionally played only bymen.

The first session then began with ‘TalVadya”, an unusual and fascinatingperformance on five different percussioninstruments— with S. Padma on themridangam, Sukanya Ramagopal on theghatam, Sasikala on the kanjira, P.Santhakumari on the thavil and AbanMistry on the tabla’ The confidenceradiated by these women and their superbsynchronization was a real treat to watch

and hear. Even more interesting was thefact that only two of them were acquaintedwith each other before the festival, andthat the details of the joint performancehad been verbally worked by them whiletravelling together on the train to Delhi.

They must have played for an hour,just going around the circle, passing arhythmic motif to each other, and doingvariations on it. They were able to gripeveryone’s attention, even though usingfive such different drums. They seemed toplay to each other avoiding the temptationto put on a personal “show.” Asaccompanists too, later in the festival,these women impressed with thesteadiness, complexity, discipline, andrichness of their rhythmic statementswhich combined well with the voicing ofsuch instruments the harmonium and thesarangi. It was enlightening to see how,for instance, P. Santhakumari was capableof playing complex musical ideas on thethavil, which looked like a drum one couldsee on the street, a folk instrument, and torealize that there must be many such

“Bhairav Se Sohni”Geetika’s All-Women Classical Music Festival

MADHU, RUTH

Tal vadya: left to right: S. Padma on mridangam, Sasikala on kanjira, P.Santhakumari on thavil, Aban Mistry on tabla Sukanya Ramagopal on ghatam

Photographs accompanying this article areby Avinash Pasrieha.

MARCH-APRIL 1983 No.15

instruments buriried in remote areas allover the country.

These five women from such differentbackgrounds were able to transcenddifferences of region, of class, of differentmusic traditions with a rare ease andextraordinary skill. It was one of the mostimaginative ways of combining theinstrumentalists of Hindustani andKarnanatic music.

They were followed by ArunaNarayan Kalle’s solo performance on thesarangi. She is the first and only womanplayer of the sarangi in India. She startedtraining seven years ago under her fathersarangi maestro Pandit Ram Narayan. Thesarangi has usually been treated as anaccompanying instrument but her fatherhas helped develop its potential as a maininstrument. Her able performance wasample evidence of this potential.

The session concluded with Dr Prabha

accompanied on the harmonium by herpupil Savitriben Jhaveri. Dr Mistry, whostarted taking singing lessons at the ageof four from her aunt Mehroo Work-ingboxwalla, has done historical researchinto the tabla and pakhawaj traditions, andis currently teaching music in Bombay.

The session concluded with a movingand inspiring performance by AsghariBegum of Tikamgarh (see interview withher on page 8). She is one of the fewwomen singers to have taken up andexcelled in dhrupad, traditionally ajealously guarded male preserve, nevertaught to women. This grand old lady ofmusic, disciple of Ustad Zahoor Khan,has maintained her devotion to musicthrough a lifetime of incredible hardships,including 30 years of not being allowed topractice singing. The evening sessionbegan with K. Dhanalaksmi and K.Deivakunjaram, two sisters,playingduets,on the nadaswaram, a difficult windinstrument not traditionally played bywomen.

They were followed by eminentviolinist Dr N. Rajam, accompanied by her17 year old daughter Sangeeta who hasbeen trained since the age of four by hermother. A delightful coordination betweenmother and daughter drew out the nuancesof the instrument with sensitivity. Dr Rajam,who was initiated into music by her father,and trained by Pandit Onkarnath Thakur,is known for her lyrical style and technicalskill. She teaches at the Benares HinduUniversity, Varanasi.

The festival fittingly concluded withShannoji’s melodic and emotive classicalsinging.

All the accompanists for both vocalistsand instrumentalists were women.Outstanding among them was VasantaMhapsekar, considered by many to be themost eminent living harmonium player inthe country. She has accompanied mostof the best known singers andinstrumentalists. Her interpretation of thevarious ragas was more than anaccompaniment—it acquired thesignificance of background colour in apainting. Also noteworthy was theimpressively sturdy and controlled tabla

playing of Shobha Kudesia, and theenjoyable lively performance on the sameinstrument by Neelam Gupta.

Atre, a well known vocalist in Hindustanimusic, who is now reader of music atSNDT women’s university, Bombay. Shewas trained in the gurukul system bySuresh Babu. Nane and his famous sisterHirabai Barodekar.

The morning session on February 27opened with Bageshwari Qamar on theshehnai. Disciple of Bismillah Khan anddaughter of shehnai player Jagdish Qamar,she is the first woman to have taken tothis difficult wind instrument.

She was followed by Dr Aban Mistry’sscholarly performance on the tabla,

After the festival, we talked to some ofthe musicians. What they had to say shedconsiderable light on the predicament andthe straggle of women artistes today.

24 year old Neelam Gupta works astabla accompanist at Jwaladevi MahilaCollege, Kanpur. She said: “I used to learndance. While dancing, I became attractedto the tabla, and began to learn fromKeshavanand Sharmaji. I have now beenlearning tabla for 10 years. I am the onlywoman tabla player in Kanpur. I do notcome from a family of musicians, but myfather is a music lover and has alwaysencouraged me. I feel that this festival wasa very good idea. As a tabla player, Iconstantly face discrimination andprejudice. Many singers andinstrumentalists flatly refuse to play withwomen accompanists. Some of themdeclare: ‘The women who can accompanyme has not been born.’ Since the tabla isan accompanying instrument, we aredependent on main performers and areadversely affected by their prejudice. Thispre-judice is particularly strong againstwomen tabla players. My aim is to furtherdevelop my tabla playing.”

While Neelam was speaking, Dr. AbanMistry came up, and passionately agreed

Aruna Kalle on sarangi

Bageshwari Qamar playing shehnaiaccompanied by Neelam Gupta

on tabla

4 MANUSHI

with her that women tabla playersconstantly encounter prejudice. She said:“Not only men but even some womenperformers refuse to be accompanied bywomen tabla players. The accompanistsare always considered to hold a secondarystatus, even though their art requires justas much devotion and hard work. In fact,the main player or singer can pause duringthe performance but the tabla playercannot stop even for a moment, lest therhythm be broken. I learnt singing andsitar playing for 27 years but I took up andstuck to tabla playing because I wasdetermined to prove that I could do it.”

We also talked to the troupe of artistsfrom South India. Sukanya Ramagopal, 25years old, is the only woman player of theghatam in India. She told us about herself:“First I learnt mridangam but then I becameinterested in this instrument because it wassomething different. My husband doesnot discourage me from performing. Justnow he is looking after the baby while I amhere in Delhi. But for two years after mymarriage, I could not play due to certainfamily problems—my husband’s illnessand my pregnancy. Now I usually practisein the afternoons. There is a lady violinistliving near my house so we often practisetogether.”

Sukanya comes from a family ofmusicologists. Her great grandfather wasan eminent Tamil researcher, and many ofher forefathers were composers. She ishowever.the only woman professional inthe family. Though she sees herself as aprofessional, and takes her commitment tomusic with high seriousness, when weasked if she can and does earn a living byher playing, she said: “It is a side earningfor me because my husband is earning. Iam not at all bothered about the money. IfI get an opportunity to perform I am veryhappy because I want to improve myself.”She also said that since ehatam isconsidered a secondary accompanyinginstrument, the players are not paid much.The maximum payment for a performanceis Rs 150 to 200 and one can be paid aslittle as Rs 15 or 20, Also, the musiciansare kept busy only during festival seasons.At other times, they may not get even one

performance a month. For women players,the situation is even more difficult. SaysSukanya: “Most male singers refuse to beaccompanied by women artistes. Some doagree, but on the whole, it is only womenwho encourage women. Some women alsodo not want women accompanists, butmostly we do accompany women singers.”

She says that she took up ghatambecause “I want to prove that I can playghatam. At the beginning nobodyencouraged me so I took it as a challenge.I want to develop it further and prove thatI can do it as well as men can.”

Sasikala, 20 years old, wasaccompanied from Bangalore to Delhi byher guru M.P. Ramachar. Sasikala first

the mridangam since the age of 11.Mridangam is a main accompanyinginstrument so she gets relatively moreopportunities to perform professionally,but she also usually accompanies womenartistes since men object to accompanists.Her husband, who is a bank officer, hadcome with her to Delhi. He remarked: “Ilove music so I allow her to perform.”

K. Deivakunjaram Dhanalakshmi comefrom a family with a long tradition ofnadaswaram playing but they are the firstwomen in the family to have learnt theinstrument. Their father taught them toplay, but their brothers were notinterested in learning. There are now a fewwomen players of nadaswaram, amongwhom these two sisters are perhaps thebest known. They have given about 1,000performances. They earn a living andsupport their families by their playing.They have travelled in South India andalso Malaysia and Singapore to givepublic performances. Since thenadaswaram is not considered a maininstrument for concerts, they performmostly in temples and at weddings.

Deivakunjaram is 27 and her sister 29.She said: “Our mother keeps insisting thatwe should get married soon, but we havenot yet agreed because we think that aftermarriage we may not be allowed to play,and also once we have children, it will bedifficult for practise and to perform. Imarried after I am 30 years old. If I do notmarry at all, I may have to face problemsand insecurities in old age.”

P. Santhakumari, 32 is the only womanplayer of the thavil in Tamtlnadu. She hasan impressive command over the instru-ment, which she started learning to playwhen she was 15 years old. Thavilplaying is not normally taught to womenbut she got inspired to learn after hearingsome women thavil players from Keralaand Srilanka. Since her guru Rajagopalanis a good friend of her father who is anadaswaram player, he willingly taught herto play the thavil.

Santhakumari is employed as a regularplayer in a temple at Dindigul, where sheearns Rs 350 a month. Her husband, whoplays; the nadaswaram in another temple,

Santhakumari on thavil

learnt bharata natyam, and then learnt toplay the mridangam. Four years ago, shebegan to learn the kanjira which is playedby very few women. Her familyencourages her, though she is the onlyprofessional musician in the family. Shehas been learning music since the age of11. She agreed with Sukanya, saying: “Idon’t need to earn a living by my music.Among us, ladies don’t earn. They stay athome. Men earn.” When we asked whatshe would do if after marriage her husbandwere to object to her performing in public,her guru urged her to say that she, willmarry only a mao who is agreeable to herperforming as a professional.

V. Padma, 27 years old, come from afamily of musicians, and has been playing

MARCH-APRIL 1983 No.15

earns Rs 500 a month.She has two small children who she

brought with her to Delhi. When we askedhow she gets time for music, with herhousehold responsibilities, she said shehas to make the time since it is a questionof earning her living. Since she plays dailyin the temple, she does not need to spendextra time on practice.

All the women from the Southvociferously agreed with Sukanya whenshe said: “This festival was a very goodidea. Women do not get encouragementin the general festivals. Also, it was anintroduction for us. I never knew, forexample, that if there are such good womentabla artistes. I did not even know theothers from South India, except V. Padma.”This was the first time that these SouthIndian women artistes had performed inNorth lndia.

Shannoji too felt that one of the mostrewarding results of the festival was that“the artistes felt very happy, elevated,satisfied. It was a great experience towitness their dedication — some of themtravelling long distances with small babiesin their arms. In spite of all theresponsibilities they shoulder, women didit ! And I felt that they maintained a highstandard, They all said that such a festivalshould be organized every year.”

Explaining why she felt the need forsuch a festival, Shannoji said : “I feel thatmusic is one way for women to break outof the suffocation in which they have beencaught for centuries. When a womanexpresses in the form of music the pain,the suffocation, the tenderness, the lovewhich dwell in her mind, she is able tocommunicate the world the anguish of herheart. It is the woman who introducesmusic to children, who sings lullabies, whoteaches children to smile, to speak. Musicis in her very being, she is the embodimentall the ragas, the emotions, Therefore I feelthe quality of her art will be higher if she isallowed to develop it, because she iscloser to life’s struggle than is a man..

I want more women on the scene, atevery level. In North India, professionalwomen musicians have come to be lookeddown upon. Women professionals were

courtesans in medieval times, therefore thetendency persists in middle class familiesto say : ‘Oh our daughter-in-law isinterested in music but thank god, there isno need for her to go on stage, to play fora living.’ Though a few women have madea name for themselves, the majority stillencounter a great deal of prejudice. Starperformers ask which woman accompanistcan possibly be good enough to play withtheir sarod or their singing. I feel that evenif it is true that a particular womanaccompanist is not so good, she needs tobe encouraged, how else will she improve?We as women should encourage women.There were certain women performers whorefused to play at this festival because theywere not willing to be accompanied bywomen. Those who did agree, took a stepforward. For example, Asghari Begum wassinging dhrupad which is always sungwith the pakhawaj, not with the tabla. Yetsince we did not have a woman pakhawajplayer here, she agreed to be accompaniedby a tabla player,

I want more opportunities to beavailable to women accompanists. Thisfestival was an attempt to make theaudience receptive, and also to encouragethe artistes, to give them recognition asprofessionals, I did not go out of my wayto get women players of instruments whichwomen commonly play, such as sitar andsarod. However, I wanted a womansurbahar player and I would have liked

Annapurna Devi, ex wife of Ravi Shankar,and daughter of Allauddin Khan. She isone of the great musicians of India, butshe has for years not performed in public.”

A major problem faced by Geetika inorganizing the festival was the lack offunds which also led to the sad spectacleof half empty halls. The festival cost aboutRs 70,000 since the hall had to be hired,and the musicians were all paid. Thoughsome of them would have willinglyperformed free of charge, Shannoji says :“Since the idea was to move towardsmaking women artistes professional-lyindependent, I wanted them to be paid.”The rates differed for different artistes,depending on how well known they are,and therefore how much they areaccustomed to charge. However, they wereall very helpful and reduced their normalrates considerably. As one of them,expressing her willingness to cooperatefully, replied when Shannoji asked howmuch she would charge : “What can I sayto a sister musician ?”

Shannoji described how the financialdependence Geetika was forced intocrippled the organizers and causedinnumerable problems : “We approachedSangeet Natate Akademi for funds. We didnor receive any answer in writing but werefinally told verbally that since the Akademidoes not stand for discrimination betweenmen and women, they could not fund anall women festival Early in 1982 I applied

K. Deivakunjaram and K. Dhanalakshmi on nadaswaram

6 MANUSHI

to the Sahitya Kala Parishad, and spenta year running around, completing variousbureaucratic procedures. They have lotsof money and even if they had grantedRs 10,000,1 was determined to go aheadand do it, raising the rest of the moneythrough advertisements in the brochure.Since a year had passed and there wasno answer from the Parishad, we werecompelled to approach business housesto sponsor the festival. We thought ofhaving three sponsors- one for eachsession. However, around January 20,1983,the Modis, makers of Four Square Kingscigarettes, offered to sponsor the wholefestival, saying they were not interestedin doing it piecemeal. They made a veryattractive offer, saying they would spendabout Rs 30,000 on publicity, and alsoorganize ticket sales.

We had not planned to sell tickets.Since this was the first festival of its kind,we had wanted to give out free invitationsso as to acquaint the Delhi audience withthe idea, and also to have full halls for theencouragement of the artistes.

However, since the Modis were soconfident of their ability to manage thewhole show, we agreed, though it soundedtoo good to be true. Over the next month,they kept delaying and hanging fire. Wehad to keep chasing them but they werenever available. They also kept changingtheir differ and contradicting themselves.We were getting frantic since time waspassing, it was now too late for us to makealternative arrangements, but we could seeno signs of the promised publicity. Finally,they issued three advertisements whereasearlier they had promised more than ten.Also, the tickets were not handed over tothe sales counters on time, with the resultthat many people who did see theannouncements and went to buy ticketson the first day had to go awaydisappointed. It is these Modis who areresponsible for the half empty halls Wecould have easily filled the hall with inviteesbut afterthe ticket sales had been somismanaged, we were helpless. It wasreally sad that the artistes had to play tohalf empty halls.

It is these government Akademis with

their so-called rules and regulations whodrive us to the cigarette and bidi wallas.Businessmen have no value for art. Theyare more interested in selling cigarettesthan in promoting art.

However, I do intend to do it again. Iwill not be defeated. This time, I will notgo in for commercial sponsorship. Geetikahas organized many other programmes.without commercial sponsorship, andhas met with resounding success. Wehave managed every thing ourselves andhave always full halls. This time, we arenot even sure whether all the money spentby us will be recovered, since the brochuresale proceeds are still coming in. Wemembers of Geetika have spent out of ourown pockets, and paid for everything inadvance.”

Shanno Khurana hails from Shahpurnear Sargoda. Her father, an engineer, wassettled in Jodhpur state. Describing howher involvement with music grew, she said:

My father was a great Arya Samajist.He believed in education for women, butwithin the house. He was very conserva-tive so there was no question of hisallowing his daughters to go to Jodhpurmaharaja’s court, to listen to theprofessional musicians there, or to performthere as profession When I was about 12,my father allowed my brother to starttaking lessons from Raghunath RaoMusalgaonkar, an eminent ustad, but Iwas told there was no need for me to takelessons with him. I used to hear the lessonsbut was not allowed to participate, WhenI was filling the form for the matriculationexamination, I, without asking anyone, putdown music as one of my subjects, thinkingthat once I had taken it as a subject, Iwould have to be allowed to learn seriously.By this time, my father had seen theustad was a very gentlemanly person, sohe allowed me to learn from him. I learntfor about five years, and then, when I wasnearly 18, I was married.

My husband’s family had nothing atall to do with music. But my husband sawmusic in me and he encouraged me to goahead. It was only his support that made itpossible for me to continue practising, andto perform professionally. Otherwise, itwould have then. I have seen so many,many very bright and talented younggirls giving up music after marriage, andjust becoming housewives. So many girlsare finished that way.”

After completing her training underMushtaq Hussain Khan, and doing herPh.D on Khayal Gayaki and Rajasthanifolk music, Shannoji founded Geetika in1968. Earlier she had composed and actedin two highly successful Punjabi operasHeer Ranjha and Sohni Mahiwal. Shannojisays that one of the main aims of Geetikais to bring classical music as close to thepeople as possible. Geetika has alwaysexperimented with new and innovativeideas. In 1970, it staged the first ever operain Urdu. Entitled Jahanara, it was basedon 60 ragas.This was followed byChitralekha, the first ever Hindi opera,based on 80 ragas. Sundari, a Punjabiopera, was the first to present the ragasof, the shabads of Guru Granth Saheb in

Shanno Khurana

“I come from a family of engineers, not afamily of musicians. When I was small Iused to listen to my older sister takingmusic lessions. When I was three and ahalf years old, I one day climbed on achair to reach the door bolt, and aftershutting myself into the room, began topick out a tune on my sister’s harmonium.After that i began to play whatever tunesheard floating aound. My brother had anice voice and we used to sing together.

MARCH-APRIL 1983 No.15

opera form. In October1982, Geetikaorganized a very successful festival ofthumri, dadra and tappa. Representativesof three schools from different parts of thecountry participated in this festival.

One fact which emerged very clearlyfrom what the women musicians had tosay, was that more even than in otherprofessions, a woman in the musicprofession requires the support of herfamily in order to survive. The few womenwho do survive as musicians manage todo so either because they come fromfamilies or musicians who are not hostileto the idea of the women members of thefamily performing, or because their families,particularly fathers and husbands, aresupportive and encouraging. On the onehand, many women of promising talenthave to give up music altogether, or merelypractise for their private pleasure as andwhen they can make the time, becausetheir families, husbands or in-laws objectto their performing in public, and see anyattempt to do so as a disgrace to thefamily. On the other hand, even many malemusicians prevent the women of theirfamilies from developing their potential orfrom performing in public.

Sharbari Mukherjee in her essayentitled “Women and traditional lndianmusic” in the Geetika brochure, gives oneexample of such exclusion of women :“Traditionally, women have never beenpermitted to sing or learn dhrupad whichis said to be the divine music meant for thegods, and was always associated withtemple rituals. It was the male bastionstrictly taught to the male members of thefamily or to sons-in-law and the knowledgewas sometimes handed down as dowry tothose who married into the family of somemusicians of high status. But women werenever practitioners.”

It would appear that with the decline ofthe older forms of patronage extended byroyal and noble families, many of theprofessional women musicians werepushed out of the field. Today musiciansstill depend for survival on patronage,though of a different kind.

Patronage today comes either from.thestate,or from private business houses who

are more likely to support art with the aimof profiteering than from love of art. Theatmosphere of competition fostered by thiskind of patronage does not appear to becongenial or encouraging for the majorityof women artistes, who have nothing buttheir talent on which to depend. It wasevident even from the range of talentdisplayed at this festival that ability is notnecessarily linked to recognition or fame.Some of the most brilliant players were alsothe least known, the ones buried in smallvillages, or eking out a meagre pittance byperforming in temples or at weddings.

However, one statement in the Geetikabrochure was rather disturbing. It claimedthat “not many sons of the old mastersfind the music profession remunerative,and so they have begun to diversify theirtalents. For instance, the sons of a sarangimaestro or a tabla ustad do not take totheir fathers’ instruments. Since these twoinstruments are generally accompanyinginstruments, they take to sarod or sitar andthe like, in order to emerge as the mainperformer on the concert platform. Butthen, are we going to let the ancient sarangigo into oblivion, for not all instrumentalistscan become soloists? It is here that womencan come forward.” This statement couldbe interpreted to mean that as men leavelow paid and less recognized areas ofmusic, women should fill the gaps, thuscoming to occupy the lowest and leastremunerative rungs of the ladder, becauseone major reason for men leaving the jobof playing accompanying instruments, isthat accompanists are poorly paid ascompared to main performers. Fortunately,this statement seemed contrary to the spiritof the festival, which broke new ground inseveral ways—by giving recognition towomen accompanists as musicians in theirown right, by demonstrating the potentialof instruments usually considered“secondary”, and by moving away fromthe dominant pattern in concerts today,which spotlights the “main” performer,relegating the accompanists to thebackground. The performers at the festivaldid not become so excellent and involvedin their music because men are nowsupposedly leaving this “secondary”

group of instruments to them. Rather, theywere finally getting long overduerecognition as musicians.

Today, when even habitual concertgoers, not to speak of the majority of us,have been attuned to react to “big names”rather than to respond freely to the qualityof music as we hear it, to trust the evidenceof reviews and awards rather than that ofour own experience, this festival was acourageous effort to acknowledge theworth of several relatively unknownartistes, and thereby to assert the primacyof art over cults and coteries.

In her introduction to the first session,the announcer said : “The Rigveda names27 vidushis (learned women) who assistedin its composition... This festival too is afestival of vidushis. Today, each of thesevidushis is standing alone just as couragealways stands alone.” We hope that thisis only a beginning—both for theproliferation of women’s scholarship in thefield of music, and for their comingtogether to share their skill and their joy inmusic.

Equal Property RightsIt will be several months before we have

a full picture of how much of N.T. RamaRao’s Telugu Desam programme onwomen’s issues will be implemented.However, we are pleasantly surprised atthe determination his party has shown inrapidly beginning to redeem their campaignpledges by introducing an Andhra PradeshAmendment Bill to amend the HinduSuccession Act. The aim is to make a shareavailable to daughters that equals that ofsons and to make daughters members ofthe coparcenary for inheritance ofancestral property. If the Bill is passed andenforced, it should have a strong impacton the status of women in Andhra Pradesh,where women have a long tradition ofrelatively greater political involvement,dating back to Telugu peaking socialreformers of the late nineteenth century.We would be glad to hear from thoseknowledgeable about women’s politicalactivities in Andhra Pradesh.