Chapter 6
The Heroic Paradigm
Padmini

Padmini had character and purity; she died by jauhar [immolation].

I admire Padmini, who died in Chitor. One has to die anyway, so why be humiliated?

Being a pativrata is like what Padmini did. She died by jauhar rather than allow herself to be accosted by the Muslims. She was very brave. . . . The heroines from Mewar are especially brave, each in her own way.
—Comments of three noblewomen

It would be tempting to deduce that just as a Rajput hero is one who superbly fulfills his duty as a soldier, so the Rajput heroine must be one who superbly fulfills the role of the pativrata . We have seen that Rajput women understand Rajput status as that which enables them to be incomparable pativrata s: they interpret their capacity to perform pativrata action as qualitatively superior to that of other women. Thus it would seem reasonable to suppose that those women adjudged best among Rajput women (sab se acchi Rajput nariyam ) most perfectly, most mechanically, execute the pativrata role.

But they do not. As we shall see, what is striking about the exemplars of Rajput womanhood is their transgression of fundamental zanana -linked law. Nevertheless, although heroines' behavior violates pativrata standards, it ultimately validates the pativrata paradigm. A widely admired woman is simply stated to be good (acchi ) and to have good character (accha caritra ) both in spite of and because of her exceptional behavior.

Rajput women are quite consistent in responding to the twofold question: who are the best exemplars of Rajput women and why are

those women good? The names of Padmini and Mira Bai overwhelmingly predominate. Commonly, respondents gave both names. When these two began to recur regularly, I decided to ask for evaluations of them, whether or not all respondents included them in their lists. (Respondents almost always included at least one.) These evaluations together with the other evaluations made of all exemplars listed demonstrate that both Padmini and Mira Bai, in quite different ways, reject the pativrata role and reaffirm the pativrata paradigm. They also show that rejection and reaffirmation are vital to the admiration they inspire.

Interestingly enough, although all women understand Padmini as an illustrious pativrata , almost all deny that Mira, though virtuous, can properly be called a pativrata , at least without altering the ordinary sense of the term. Comparing these women will help us discover the parameters of the pativrata concept and deepen our understanding of the protection it conveys. This task begins with an account of the Padmini legend. What we should note from the account below, which is a composite of narratives recited by those interviewed, is that although Padmini dies a sati , she deviates from the sati scenario as we have understood it. Her sacrifice is preceded by a sequence of actions atypical of pativrata behavior.

The Tale of Padmini

Padmini, a queen of Mewar, was renowned for her incomparable beauty. Ala-ud-din, the notorious Afghan invader, determined to take Chitor and capture her. His initial charges proved unsuccessful, but lust spurred him on. Finally, frustrated, he submitted a compromise: he would withdraw his troops if he could be allowed but a glimpse of the fair lady's face. The Maharana consented but stipulated that to protect Padmini's modesty, the Muslim would only be able to see her face reflected in a mirror. The offer having been accepted, the queen was taken to a palace in the middle of a large tank. She stood next to a window with her back toward the outside. Ala-ud-din was placed in a building at the edge of the tank, from which considerable distance he was allowed to catch a fleeting glimpse of Padmini's reflection in a mirror, which was held up to the queen for a few seconds. Far from satisfying his desire, this vision inflamed it. He decided to double-cross the Maharana and make Padmini his own.

Because the Muslim had arrived in Chitor alone and thus demonstrated his faith in Rajput honor, the Maharana felt compelled to return

the compliment by personally accompanying him back to his camp. When they arrived, however, Ala-ud-din took his escort hostage and demanded Padmini as ransom. The Rajput army could not contemplate such a trade. To ask the queen to compromise herself would contravene the Rajput code of honor, which protects women. Padmini herself ordered that the trade be executed but, having sized up Ala-ud-din as no man of honor, also plotted an ambush. She sent Ala-ud-din a message consenting to his terms provided that she be allowed to bring along her belongings and attendants. He agreed. Then the queen ordered many curtained palanquins, which were designed to transport ladies-in-waiting, to be filled instead with soldiers. Because the soldiers who were to be concealed in this way knew they would not be able to defeat Ala-ud-din's powerful army, they prepared themselves to die in a battle of honor, a saka .

When the palanquin procession reached its destination, Padmini asked Ala-ud-din that she be permitted to bid farewell to her husband before leaving him. Having agreed, the Muslim took his bride-to-be to the place where her husband was held captive. As soon as the Maharana's location was known, the Rajput soldiers sprang upon the Muslims and liberated the captive king. In the uproar, both Padmini and her husband managed to escape. Padmini was whisked back to the palace, while the Maharana fled for the hills. Because it was clear that his forces would lose the battle, he retreated so that he might plot an assault on Ala-ud-din at a later more promising moment. Back at Chitor, seeing that the Maharana's forces faced defeat, Padmini led hundreds (some say thousands) of women to the vaults under the palace, where they committed jauhar , mass immolation.^[1]

In general, jauhar is understood to accomplish closely related purposes. To begin with, it preserves female virtue.^[2] The noblewomen

[1] This representative narrative is a condensation of what Tod gives as two episodes. In Tod, Ala-ud-din takes time to recoup his losses and then begins another attack. Jauhar follows this attack, in which the Maharana is killed. No respondent mentioned two attacks or the circumstances surrounding the Maharana's death, which is central to Tod's detailed account (Annals and Antiquities 1:212–16). Tod identifies Padmini's husband as Bhim Sinh, but official palace records at Udaipur identify the king as Ratan Sinh. Bhim Sinh belonged to the collateral branch of the family at Sisoda.

[2] In the Rajasthani Sabd Kos the first definition of jauhar is "jewel" (ratna ). The second is "proof" (pramana ) of the "character" (svarup ) of a sword as seen by fineness of the striations in its iron. The third is "quality, beauty, character" (vishesta, khubi, gun ). The fourth is "the mass burning of live Rajput women on a pyre when their husbands, wearing saffron, are about to lose their fort to the enemy, so that the enemy cannot get them." The fifth is the "pyre" (cita ) where such burning occurs. The final, sixth entry ties the "rite" (kriya ) of immolation of anyone (kisi ) to the motive of "revenge" (pratikar ) for

injustice. (It presumably applies to immolations of others besides the Rajput women mentioned in the fourth definition. This is interesting because women sometimes say jauhar punishes enemies by depriving them of the opportunity to satisfy their carnal desires). Jauhar shares basic associations of sat . Like sat , it refers to quality and character; like sati it is proof (of female character and goodness). The link between "gem" and character appears to be the same made in English when we refer to someone as a "real gem." In short, the primary meanings denote character; the derivative meanings refer to the rituals that demonstrate it.

quoted at the very beginning of this chapter said, "Padmini had character and purity; she died by jauhar ." As noted previously, Rajputs have been keen to protect the purity of Rajput blood. Because conquest brought with it the likelihood of rape, they have seen conquest as a threat to family integrity and caste identity. Until now, another woman commented, the purity of Rajput blood has not been diluted. She said that with society changing, that might happen in the future, but said she was proud that "blood-mixing" really had not happened to any appreciable extent as yet.

Jauhar also promotes caste duty, which is symbolized ultimately by the saka , the "cutting down" that ensues. It inspires soldiers to fight unto death, for they have nothing left to lose.^[3] Although jauhar often precedes the death of a husband (or a wife's knowledge of the death of her husband), women who so die are referred to as satis . Hence, as a heroic strategist, Padmini enables her husband to face his enemy in battle and then, as a sati , prompts his courage and promotes his honor.^[4]

Two matters concerning the Padmini narrative merit immediate attention. First, although Padmini is a sati , she is not simply assimilated to the category of satimata . True, Padmini is a satimata to Sisodiyas. But when Sisodiyas speak of their satimata , they do not single out Pad-

[3] Women's renditions usually mention no children or elderly persons. As we saw in the tale of Guha, a child (unborn) raises an issue of conflicting loyalty that Rajput mythology resolves in various ways. In one myth a sati first cuts her unborn child from her womb. In other stories, women die pregnant or with their children; heirs are smuggled away but everyone else perishes in flames. I saw only one miniature painting of the Padmini jauhar , which depicts women dying together—no children or men. The issue deserves historical study. The point of the Padmini myth told by women, however, seems to be the sacrifices made by women for the encouragement of men.

[4] The enabling function of women's sat is somewhat like the motivational aspect of shakti , the female power discussed widely in literature on women and goddesses in India. My Rajput informants did not invoke shakti in discussions of satis or heroines. They describe the Goddess or a kuldevi as being Shakti (a Sanskritic epithet) or having shakti , but they overwhelmingly speak of satis , heroines, and ordinary women as having and seeking sat , understood as substantive virtue and power. Informants understood what I meant when I spoke of shakti but themselves employed the term sat when talking about women's duties, powers, and goals. Sat is the term they employ when they describe themselves and their motivations in admiring and worshiping kuldevis, satimatas , heroines (and heroes and other deities). See the discussion of sat in chapter 5 and that of jauhar below.

mini from other satis . Self-immolation is the basis for the worship she receives as one of the satis whose identities merge into the integrated satimata personage. What causes Padmini's name to be remembered and revered is not just the mode of her death but the manner in which she lived her life.^[5] Two women thus summarized their sentiments: "I admire Padmini because she was very clever; she showed the Muslims that!" and "I like Padmini because she met danger when her husband wasn't around to protect her."^[6]

This is not to downplay the importance of Padmini's death: it is the climax of the Padmini narrative. One Rajput woman noted that when Padmini leaves the palace to attack Ala-ud-din, "her body becomes hot with sat ," which clearly foreshadows her death as a sati . Acts that make her story something more than a sati scenario, however, are the rescue she plots and the ambush she directs. To execute her plan she abandons her household and takes to the battlefield. For these reasons she is revered even by Rajputs (and others) who do not worship her as a satimata .

Second, Padmini's heroic action contravenes a cardinal rule. Padmini leaves parda . The story builds toward this event and dwells on its significance. The mirror incident, in which Padmini shows her face to Ala-ud-din, portends this trangression. The stereotype of the lustful Muslim is well known to Rajasthani mythology. When the villainous Ala-ud-din sees the reflection of Padmini's face, it is a foregone conclusion that desire will defeat honor and he will conspire to ravish her. The bargain he strikes is thereby transformed from an end in itself to a means of conquest. Furthermore, while the belief that Padmini's body becomes hot when she exits the palace shows that Padmini does not thereby abandon her virtue, it also stresses that she deviates from custom. Her dramatic departure emphasizes that the state of affairs in Chitor has become so

[5] At Chitor there is an annual celebration of heroism known as the Jauhar Mela. Rajputs parade through Chitor to honor the courage of their ancestors. Although the festival focuses on jauhar , it does not bear a specific sati 's name. It takes place on the anniversary of another jauhar , but most Rajputs I know assume it celebrates the jauhar led by Padmini. Its organizers intended the festival to commemorate all three sacks and jauhars at Chitor—they chose the anniversary they did because it is a time when neither students nor farmers are busy. Although the procession commemorates the bravery of Rajput ancestors, it also occasions fiery political speeches and protests against the lawmakers in Delhi for grievances related to the loss of political power.

[6] Almost without exception the women who mentioned Padmini said they admired her because of her bravery. The only woman who made a negative remark about Padmini said that although she was brave, "Padmini should have committed suicide early on; that way there would have been no need for a war!" In other words, she could have done even more for her husband.

perilously chaotic that only Padmini, a woman, can save it. Chitor must suspend its own law to reestablish the order that the law is intended to preserve.

Thus Padmini's departure is richly symbolic and movingly dramatic. In going out to war (over and over, women specified that she went out [bahar ] to fight), she disregards female custom and performs male duty. Treading on male territory she assumes her husband's command. Hence Padmini is heroic not because she fulfills the codified role of the pativrata but because she departs from it to assume another, more urgent, role. When Padmini leaves the household and thereby inverts the relationship between her husband and herself, she abandons the behavior normally incumbent on a pativrata while pursuing a purpose in accord with pativrata duty. This inversion is verified by the story sequence. While Padmini's husband is concealed as a hostage in Ala-ud-din's camp, Padmini leaves her concealment to lead her husband's army. Once she has served in her husband's place to rescue her husband, she retreats to Chitor, which reinverts her inverted status.

Finally, self-immolation proves that her intentions have been pure. She has transgressed boundaries solely to protect her husband and not for self-aggrandizing purposes; she acts for her husband, not herself. The pativrata role encompasses and ultimately revalues violation as consistent with its purpose. It cannot, however, arbitrate the immediate contradiction. Women say that Padmini is a pativrata , but they also say that she is brave (bahadur ) enough to have defied pativrata convention by going out among men. Thus there exists both conjunction and disjunction between Padmini's heroic action and the role of the pativrata . Both are meaningful. They constitute the experience and the end (goal) of conflict. It seems that because Padmini substitutes for her husband, she exempts herself from the rule of support synonymous with the pativrata role, but because she dies as a sati , she shows that she also fulfills the support function she transgressed. In sum, when Padmini crosses back into the zanana , she is not mysteriously "absolved from the sin" of leaving the zanana . Her reentry symbolically, not logically, states both the opposition and consonance of her actions, which have a single intention. Intention is, as always, key.

The symbolism of conflict and conjunction is predominantly spatial. We have seen how protection is located within spheres. The protection offered by pativratas , be they divine (maternal kuldevis ), semidivine (satimatas ), or human, has its source within the boundaries of the zanana . We have also seen that integral to female protection is support of male

duty, which is performed on the battlefield. While that support is a mode of protection that accompanies a husband outside the household, it is predicated on the partition of zanana and mardana . Women defend honor by remaining in the zanana. Parda , we have seen, not only builds among men the esprit de corps essential for army life; it preserves and enhances the modesty and purity of women.^[7]

Parda , then, represents and cultivates the character of women and men. As their character flourishes so does their reputation, the stuff of which heroism is made. When women acquire sat through chastity, they build good reputations. The reputation of a wife protects and furthers the reputation, and so the honor, of her husband. Because reputation is understood to reflect honor and is thus inseparable from it, female chastity, symbolized by parda , strengthens the character of both women and men and reinforces their respective duties of protection.

Yet Padmini, like other military heroines, abandons parda . When she leaves the female sphere, she no longer functions as a supporter of male duty; she becomes a performer of male duty, which is the very foundation of her heroism. Thus it is not insignificant that in speaking of Padmini Rajput women often remark that they admire her not simply because she was a pativrata but because "she fought like a man." Padmini's stepping out of the zanana constitutes an inversion of feminine and masculine as well as a transformation from housewife to heroine.^[8] Such an act is not good in itself. It is good in the context of a highly undesirable state of affairs in which a husband, through death or other incapacitation, cannot carry out his martial duty, a duty predicated on the royal-caste responsibility of protection. Only in such a case may a woman substitute for her husband in order to protect him and, if he is still alive, enable him to protect as his caste responsibility demands.

This point emerges from the "two elephants" variation on the Ruthi

[7] The sat that women and men inherit through the blood they increase through appropriate behavior. This notion is illustrated in one thakurani 's claim that "because Padmini and the other heroines like her had good blood, they could fight." Padmini's character, developed by being a pativrata , gives her the ability to perform her husband's tasks. Recall that in the Guha story, the sat of the mother dying as a sati enabled her male descendants to conquer a kingdom. Recall also that in the stories in which women shame their men into fighting, the sat of the mother or daughter encourages the son or husband to fight (myth variants often interchange wife and mother).

[8] A heroine (virangana ) takes a masculine role in various Indian myths and legends. On the use of "male attire, as well as the symbols of male status and authority, especially the sword," see Kathryn Hansen, "The Virangana in North Indian History," Economic and Political Weekly , 30 Apr. 1988, 26–27. An interesting, if partial, South Indian parallel is the Madurai heroine Minakshi, who is trained as a prince (here the heroine does not die but becomes the spouse of Shiv).

Rani story mentioned in the previous chapter. Well before the bard tells Ruthi Rani she must choose between pride and her husband's affection, she ponders whether to lead an army against her husband's enemy while her husband lives. Ashamed that her husband has not led an army to challenge his enemy sooner, she thinks of doing so herself. A bard warns her that if she fights, people will ridicule her husband and destroy his honor, so she chooses not to fight. She leads forces against the Muslims only after her husband's death.

Substituting for a husband is the basis for a woman's heroism. The act is not obligatory but supererogatory and presumably for this reason is deemed heroic. The transgression it entails can be recommended only indirectly by the rare examples of exceptionally courageous (bahadur ) women who face the horrors of battle in violation of their normal and normative code of behavior.

That this violation is conceived as such is clear from two attendant assumptions. First, a hero attains a status that ought to be permanent, and a heroine achieves a status assumed temporary. Individual heroes are worshiped at individual shrines constructed in their honor;^[9] heroines, we have seen, are worshiped only as satimatas , in which case they lose their individual identities. Death both validates the inversion undergone by the heroine and confirms pativrata status. In sum, a heroine is admired for her violation but worshiped (if worshiped; the Rani of Jhansi, we shall see, is not) without reference to violation, or for that matter to any other distinguishing acts preceding sati immolation.

Second, female heroism is exceptional and personal. The heroine enters the battlefield unattended by other heroines; other women remain where they should, at home. Thus the heroine has sole charge of her destiny as she battles for the realm. Temporarily transcending the model of spatial support that the zanana offers the mardana , she works alone in a world turned chaotic. Her inversion is task-specific: she is to catalyze a restoration of order. Once she has set the process in motion, she will resume her proper place among other women in the zanana .

The threat of conflict looms large in the story despite the understanding that it is ultimately resolved. The conflict Padmini faces is symptomatic of a more general dilemma. The idea that only Padmini can accept the villain's terms and thus save the king, the protector of the realm, underscores the aforementioned conviction that where conflict has caused order to disintegrate, it may take a woman to restore it. Such is

[9] See, for example, Sontheimer, "Hero and Sati-stones."

the case with the cosmic conflict described in the Devimahatmya . There, when demons have so demolished the world order that the gods are powerless, the Goddess steps in to set things straight. I never heard women explicitly liken the Padmini story to the Devimahatmya , but even without an implicit comparison the texts reveal a common understanding: when the world has turned topsy-turvy, a female might be able to turn it right side up.^[10]

Closely related to this conclusion is the observation that Padmini's departure from parda and assumption of male duty are occasioned by opposition stated in the narrative between the male duty to protect the realm by fighting and the male duty to protect the realm by protecting women.^[11] Honor prevents men from relinquishing either goal and so paralyzes them. Only when Padmini takes charge are men delivered from their dissonance. Thus Padmini's inversion not only handles the dilemma of competing pativrata responsibilities, it enables men to act and thereby catalyzes a battle for restoration.

In sum, restoration of order means that conflict has been resolved and that conflict had existed. If restoration has been effective, actual, not apparent, conflict must have been overcome. This being so, what is to be made of the symbolism of Padmini's return to the zanana and of the conviction that her pativrata status has not been interrupted or diminished? Two thoughts come to mind. On the one hand, women clearly assume that the military heroine crossing out of parda internalizes the (sexual) control that parda symbolizes. It would seem she takes parda and the sat it has built with her and so is not judged immodest. Perhaps this thought explains why some variants on the Padmini and Hari Rani stories describe the heroines' faces as still veiled, though most I have come across describe heroines as out of parda and without veil (ghunghat ) or mention no veil.^[12] (Presumably a veil would make fighting especially troublesome.) In any case, the internalization of parda is verified by her death as a sati . Even where death occurs not through fire but

[10] The notion that a woman, presumably weaker than a man, is especially able to demonstrate Rajput heroism brings to mind the theme of the youngest sati , mentioned previously, who is the ideal sati ; she is the weakest, having had the least opportunity to accumulate sat . People dwell on the beauty and fragility of Padmini, presumably because she is so much weaker than one would expect a soldier to be. Cf. Beck's parallel finding that people identify with the youngest sibling in South Indian folk narratives (Three Twins , 35).

[11] On the male duty to protect a woman and the preservation of honor, see Ziegler, "Action, Power," 80.

[12] See also Ann Grodzins Gold, "Stories of Shakti" (paper presented at the Association for Asian Studies Annual Meeting, Washington, D.C., March 1989), 15.

in battle, it verifies internalization, for the heroic Rani of Jhansi, who is felled while fighting, bears the sati epithet.^[13]

On the other hand, when a woman leaves the household she implicitly assumes male purpose and duty, so that the person outside parda is perhaps not quite the person who was inside it, although the outsider still intends to return once her task is accomplished. In other words, the person who conforms to the pativrata paradigm may be thought of as not really leaving the zanana and its parda ; while absent from the zanana and performing male duty, the heroine may be not quite herself. Her intentions and so her honor would remain veiled by parda , which is located at home. Reentry would then signal a symbolic confirmation of the pativrata 's continued presence in the zanana .

In either case, it seems to me, the heroine gains a mode of control generally attributed to men. The chastity she has exercised in the zanana , chastity protected by males and protecting them on the battlefield, now empowers and protects her as she sets out for war. Her chastity protects her person as she fights for her husband; as she fights for him she is able to protect the chastity of her person.

The heroine's internalization of parda and assumption of male identity conjointly reveal a further valence of boundary symbolism. This is the idea, widespread in Rajasthan as elsewhere in India, that marriage merges the discrete male and female into a single symbolic personage. The notion that a woman is part of her husband pervades Indian classical and popular culture. A man needs a wife to become whole. Without one, he cannot perform essential Hindu rituals. This idea finds expression in the familiar image of Ardhanarishvara, Shiv as half himself and half his wife, Parvati.^[14] In commenting on the behavior of Padmini and other heroines, a thakurani from a leading Mewar estate made explicit reference to this image. Having said that these women were pativratas and that being a pativrata is a woman's highest duty, she said: "I'd give my life for my husband [also]. You can defame God but not a husband. I am half his body; I'd do any sacrifice for him."

If we apply this notion, substitution for the husband could also represent merging with him. The heroine, having united with her husband through performance of his role, becomes the recipient of her own

[13] Summarizing her assessment of this queen's character, one woman stated, "The Rani of Jhansi was very brave and had good character. She was a lady but she had to come out of parda to fight!"

[14] I am grateful to Dennis Hudson for bringing up this point in discussions of chastity and heroism.

power. She acts for him; he acts through her. Her passage into male space transforms her so that she is both heroine and masculine, or at the very least male-like.

This transformation of Padmini's power as she enters the battlefield would seem to emphasize the functional androgyny indicated by staging a military ambush. During this time of disorder, in which customary segregation is suspended, Padmini's performance of her husband's military duty (as strategist and commander) points to the ultimate theoretical harmony of segregated roles. At the same time, the symbolic merging of sexual identities represented by Padmini qua soldier, woman as performer of male caste duty, points to their differentiation in ordinary experience. Padmini's crossings out into battle and back into parda show that the suspension of custom is not final. In the end she resumes her traditional role as is expected. In fact, her crossing out carries overtones of the ritual crossing out of a sati on the way to the pyre.

Recall that when Padmini leaves the palace, her body becomes hot with sat . It is at this precise point, the intersection of inner and outer spheres, that satis traditionally symbolize their intention to die as satis by placing their handprints of wet vermilion on the entry gates. Thus the observation that Padmini becomes hot with sat as she emerges from the palace likens her crossing into the battlefield to the crossing that a sativrata makes as she processes to the cremation ground (mahasatiyam ). That she is a sati —she is full of sat —is clear.

It is tempting to draw out the analogy by suggesting a further comparison between the sati procession and Padmini's caravan procession. In the case of the sati procession, a woman is understood to be going to the mahasatiyam as a bride to be joined once again with her husband: the fire is the basis for both the marriage ceremony and joint cremation.^[15] At the same time, the sativrata is technically a widow and the conjunction of bride and widow symbolism expresses the power she possesses and the fear she inspires through her capacity to curse. Padmini is recognized to feign a dowry-carrying procession toward marriage (or perhaps marriage of sorts) with her enemy while truly advancing toward reunion with the Maharana, her husband. Her journey appears to emphasize her fidelity in marriage. Her mission is to liberate her husband in order to enable him to fight, although it is clear that the Rajputs cannot win against the Muslims, who vastly outnumber them.

[15] Hence some satis wear wedding dresses. Moreover, as we have seen, a betrothed woman who circumambulates her financé's funeral fire and ascends it, becomes wife and sati .

Given this situation, Padmini's procession portends imminent widowhood; it is a prelude to jauhar . Hence the bride-widow elements of sati symbolism fall easily into Padmini's procession, though their presence is not necessary to prove the significance of the fundamental sati analogy stated by Padmini's manifestation of sat .

The fact that Padmini will die a sati , although no actual sati procession is possible under the circumstances, is plain from the time she disingenuously agrees to Ala-ud-din's terms.^[16] From this perspective, Padmini, whose sat is manifest, is a sativrata . She is transformed not simply from wife to heroine but to sati as well. Neither conceptualization will suffice independently. Although Padmini is like a sativrata , she does die a sati ; although Padmini is a sati , she engages in exceptional behavior that does not literally conform to the sati scenario.

Perhaps the best way to conceive the mutuality of the two perspectives—Padmini the sati demonstrating normative pativrata-sati behavior and Padmini the soldier exhibiting extraordinary heroic behavior—is to think of one as the mirror image of the other. The mirrored representation is exactly what is reflects, its equivalent. It is also the opposite of what it reflects and therefore reflects in faithful denial every detail it reproduces. And so the heroine is a sati , which is why her sat manifests. But she is also like the sati in that she plays a perfect (heroic) counterpart, which carries the charge of her story's dramatic emphasis on transgression, both normative and locative.

This transgression, however harmonious with her purpose, is symbolically reversed when Padmini crosses back into parda and resumes the custom of segregation deemed necessary in society. This reentry is understood as the most proximate prelude to death. As Padmini's departure for the battlefield is meaningful in terms of a sativrata 's procession, so her return to the fortress connotes and points toward crossing into fire, which is a salient purpose of reentry. The fortress then takes the place of the mahasatiyam . The husband being alive, jauhar occurs where the husband has lived rather than the place where he is to die.

What, we might ask, would have happened if the Rajputs had won a quick, decisive victory? Would Padmini then have had no need to kill herself? Would not reentry then be robbed of half its meaning and symbolize not legitimation but aggregation? Would Padmini still have been

[16] In one woman's telling of the tale, Padmini wears a wedding dress to the ambush. In another's, Padmini dresses for battle (presumably as a man) and then puts on her wedding dress when she returns to die a sati . In both, wearing a wedding dress is preparation for jauhar .

a paragon of virtue? Such questions force issues not to be forced. Symbolism is meaningful relative to the situations in which it is found. To alter its premise or artificially expand its context is to invite unsound speculation. Moreover, even to conduct interviews to determine what would have happened if only this or that element of the story were changed, would mean asking respondents to disrupt the relations among story elements and damage the narrative's integrity. In the Padmini story, death makes sense of the events it follows. It confirms the reversion of the transformation essential to female heroism, even if individuals interviewed do not expressly articulate this notion in equivalent terms. As myths are social institutions, their meaning cannot be wholly explained by individuals called upon to dissect them.^[17] The efficiacy of the symbols they comprise exists within the arena of social consciousness, elements of which individuals may not be consciously aware. Thus the question to be posed is not whether death is required and if not, what then; rather, it is what death means where it occurs and then, in a similar vein, whether its occurrence has a meaningful pattern elsewhere in the culture's myth and ritual.

We have seen already that death validates purity of intention in the Padmini story and, more generally, in the immolation ritual. Death as a sati , a true sati , proves purity of the heart. Given the analogy and equation of the Padmini story and the sati scenario, we have concluded that death as validation both justifies what has preceded the story's climax and catalyzes and constitutes that climax. It is, however, legitimate and advisable to inquire whether such a death is typical of stories that tell of situations similar to the one Padmini faced. The context of a symbol is defined not only by the story in which it is found but by those stories utilizing the same thematic and symbolic elements. The stories must be drawn from the same social element. Still, not any old myth available from that element will suffice. Preliminary relevance must exist not in the mind of the researcher but in the minds of the storytellers. Thus here I invoke only those myths chosen by Rajput women as bearing on the question at hand: the exemplification of good Rajput character.

Given this limitation, I find it significant that the myths told by Rajput women conclude with the death of the protagonist. Even Mira, whose behavior bears little obvious resemblance to that of the heroines discussed in this chapter, dies a legitimizing death. Death is an essential

[17] Victor Turner, "Symbols in Ndembu Ritual," in The Forest of Symbols (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1967), 26–27.

aspect of all their stories' meanings.^[18] To illustrate this point it will prove fruitful to compare the Padmini story with the stories of the only other exemplars whose stories are mentioned with any regularity.

Cases for Comparison: the Rani of Jhansi and Hari Rani

The first of these exemplars is the Rani of Jhansi, the widowed queen who died fighting the British following the Indian Mutiny of 1857. Although the historical reasons for the queen's battle are complex, the basic grievance the queen had with the British was their failure to recognize her adoptive son's claim to the throne. She took to the battlefield in order to protect her husband's estate and regain her son's inheritance. Having strapped her son to her back and mounted a charger, she fought her way to fame and glory in an unwinnable skirmish.

Curious from our perspective is that the Rani of Jhansi was not a Rajput but a Brahman and was married to a Maratha, facts of which many Rajput women are unaware. Some of those who know she was not a Maratha maintain that she nevertheless illustrates the character a good Rajput woman possesses. Both groups of respondents have varying degrees of unfamiliarity with the Rani of Jhansi's legend. Unlike the case of Padmini, there is no standard version known to Rajputs. Thus their telling of the tale is often particularly improvisational. For example, some women assume that the Rani of Jhansi died as a sati when it became clear she would lose to the British. The logic behind this assumption is apparent. As the queen's intentions were selfless—she fought as her husband in protecting the welfare and status of her son—she died a sati . For those women who believe that she must have retreated from the battlefield at the last moment to immolate herself, the Rani of Jhansi is literally a sati . For those who know that the queen was slain on the battlefield, she is a sati by analogy. In either case, her death is adjudged unselfish sacrifice. It manifests her goodness, her sat . It therefore accomplishes what self-immolation accomplishes: it validates her pativrata status.^[19]

[18] In this respect the heroines' deaths resemble martyrdom. There is, however, a crucial distinction in that martyrs are remembered as heroic individuals as a result of their deaths, whereas these heroines are celebrated because of their behavior while living. Their deaths are far more commonplace than their lives.

[19] The Rani of Jhansi was a widow for quite some time, a fact of which many women are unaware. They take her husband's death as a more immediate catalyst for hers.

The Rani of Jhansi is not a satimata for any Rajput family. She is not worshiped; she is admired. Once again, the basis for the admiration she receives is her leaving home to perform her deceased husband's duty. Thus "she fought the enemy," as one woman explained, "and did everything once her husband died." Having taken on her husband's role as an administrator, she now assumes his place on the battlefield, which dramatizes her transformation. It is the militant, equestrian image of the Rani of Jhansi that is enshrined in public memory. It fits easily into the conceptual framework already articulated. Much is made of her leaving home. When she does so, she goes armed with sword and shield. Her venture into battle demonstrates her bravery, and her death, even if it is known to have occurred on the battlefield, reveals the purity of her motive. Moreover, her death serves as a second crossing (a crossing back into parda ), for it establishes her as a sati and verifies her life as a pativrata .

The second and final illustration is provided by Hari Rani, who, we have seen, is understood as sati -like. By slicing off her head with a sword, she liberates her husband from concern over her welfare and enables him to fight valiantly on the battlefield. Her act thus resembles jauhar . She bears the epithet sati , but it is by no means sure that she is worshiped as a satimata . No Hara Cauhan women I interviewed mentioned her as a satimata when asked about their families' satimata traditions. Like other Rajput women who named her as an example of a good Rajput woman, they usually referred to her as a sati , this epithet not establishing a separate tradition of satimata worship. Their satimata remains an amalgam.

What is particularly odd about the Hari Rani narrative is that the queen sacrifices herself very early in the story sequence. She marries, then dies to help her husband. Her abrupt exit would seem to belie the observation that the military heroine is remembered not for her death but for her action. Such a conclusion, however, is unwarranted. First, Hari Rani's death is an unusual action per se. She does herself in though nothing indicates that her husband will perish on the battlefield. Moreover, she dies by the sword, the instrument she wishes her husband to use. The mode and meaning of her death are notably specific: they are not simply assimilated to the sati mold.

Futhermore, Hari Rani's participation in the story does not end with her death. The king of Salumbar, emboldened by the bravery of his wife, straps her head to his saddle and charges out the palace gates to gain glory as a warrior. The symbolism here is patent: when the king leaves

his castle, his queen goes with him. She not only catalyzes (supports) his courage, she is (substitutes for) his courage. Hence Hari Rani meets the common criterion of crossing out of the palace and into the battlefield. Her face exposed to all beholders, she leaves parda . Yet she does so in inverted order: she dies, then fights.

The king's attachment of the queen's head to his saddle stands as a succinct reversal of the Rani of Jhansi's act of strapping her son to her back. The Rani of Jhansi fights bodily but with the spirit of her husband (the courage of a man, which is symbolized by his heir). Hari Rani lends her spirit (the courage of a man, possessed by a woman) to her husband, who fights bodily. What is essential, evidently, is not the logical order of the crossings (Hari Rani dies in the zanana before going to the battlefield) but the symbolic value of those crossings. Although Hari Rani has severed her head, she enters the battlefield a human, not a supernatural being. As a heroine, she fights after her death, which has already verified that she has been a pativrata .^[20]

Hari Rani's doubly inverted heroism—crossing out (like other heroines) plus crossing out after death (unlike other heroines)—occurs in the context of male heroism. Rajputs conceive of female heroism, as we have seen, in masculine terms and recognize a likeness between the heroines and heroes, who are the devotional counterparts of satimatas . There is a special similarity between the heroine and the type of male hero known as jhumjhar (struggler), who continues to fight after his head has been severed. Jhumjhars figure among the most illustrious of heroes because their surfeit of sat enables them to fight fiercely before succumbing to death.

Many Rajput families have preserved their jhumjhar myths. Although these myths are a varied lot, their outlines closely resemble the pattern of the following accounts, taken from interviews and chosen for inclusion here because together they demonstrate the alien and domestic settings jhumjhar plots can assume.

The Rao Sahab Maha Sinh was engaged in war with the Muslim Ranbajkhan. The Rao Sahab had a custom of granting a boon to someone every morning. Ranbajkhan's mother came to the king's court disguised as a Bhil woman and asked of him the boon that in the upcoming battle her son be allowed to strike the first blow. The king, thinking her son an ally, assented.

[20] One woman said she appreciated Hari Rani for facing up to adversity and sacrificing for her husband: "She gave her head for her husband. She's my favorite—I'd like to be like Hari Rani. She was so brave not running away from hardship." Another noted that Hari Rani was bold and so she fought by making her husband fight. Typically, these informants assume Hari Rani was present, as her head symbolically indicates.

Then the Bhil woman revealed her identity [as a Muslim], but the king had already given his word and was honor-bound by it.

When the battle began, Ranbajkhan charged toward the king and with a single slash of the sword removed his head. The king, outraged by the twin insults of trickery and decapitation, fought on brilliantly until he had revenge in the form of Ranbajkhan's head. The decapitating blow he dealt also split in half his enemy's elephant and elephant-saddle. To this day we worship the Rao Sahab's sword and shield on Dashara.

The jhumjhar we worship was the eldest grandson of the king (thakur ). He was very religious and routinely stayed up all night in one or another village in the realm in order to attend performances of Pabu Ji.^[21] The grandson's uncle was jealous that the boy was heir to the throne. The uncle told the grandfather a lie. He said that the boy bedded strange women during his nocturnal excursions. The grandfather was furious. He gave the uncle permission to assassinate the boy.

The first thing the uncle did was to tell the lie he had told to the grandfather to the boy's wife. Hurt and angry, the wife retreated to her second-story bedroom, where she bolted her door so that her husband would not be able to come to her after returning from his nightly outing. When the boy came home and ascertained the state of affairs, he resigned himself to sleeping in the ground-floor courtyard. The uncle had foreseen that this would happen and had hidden himself nearby. When his nephew fell off to sleep, he leapt out from his hiding place and bound the boy to his bed. Three or four accomplices then ambushed the captive. The uncle sliced off his nephew's head, but the boy managed to rise and while still tied to his bed slew his assailants before falling to the floor.

As these stories illustrate, the jhumjhar may lose his head through battle or palace intrigue. To die fighting is not a misfortune; it is the goal (virgati ) of all Rajput warriors. Nevertheless, to die of decapitation whether on the battlefield or at home is degrading: it violates the warrior's physical integrity, which is inseparable from his moral integrity.^[22] Such humiliation can be erased only by revenge. A surfeit of sat enables the jhumjhar to survive the loss of his head long enough to avenge with interest the insult paid him. Before dying he kills at least a few, and perhaps many, enemies. This revenge takes victory from the hands of his slayers and immortalizes his valor.

At the most immediate level, the comparison between Hari Rani and the jhumjhar takes the form of contrast: one fights with bodiless head, the other with headless body. This comparison, however, is reductionistic, for while the jhumjhar fights headlessly, he still uses his head.

[21] Performances of the epic of Pabu Ji, a Rathaur hero, are still given by husband-and-wife teams, which travel throughout Rajasthan to sing of the hero's exploits.

[22] Ziegler, "Action, Power," 80; and Marriott and Inden, "Ethnosociology," 228.

Though severed, it functions as it should. It continues to allow the jhumjhar to see: it focuses and directs the courage springing from his heart. In like fashion, Hari Rani's head continues to function past the point of its severance. No longer attracting the king and distracting him from his duty, it inspires him to attack his enemies and so save face, which would have remained lost had he been allowed to continue doting on his bride. Moreover, it enables him to gain a reputation for bravery.

There is in this scenario an unmistakable mergence. It is the queen whose head is severed, but it is the king whose body avenges the loss of his queen. The king's motivation to fight is heavily charged with revenge. His wife, his protégée, has lost her life because of the enemy; therefore the enemy must suffer.

Literally speaking, of course, the queen's death is not the enemy's fault. Death is her idea. Her motivation also fits in well with the jhumjhar scenario. Let us look more closely at jhumjhar symbolism. When a jhumjhar 's head survives its body, it may roll a great distance in order to achieve an auspicious destination, which is then marked by a shrine. Similarly, Hari Rani's head travels about to attain its end, her husband's glory. This comparison also hinges on the male-female inversion, for Hari Rani's head does not animate the body from which it is severed but the body to which it is offered—the body of her husband. The symbolism of three types occurs: substitution, combination, and sacrifice.

First, Hari Rani's head serves for her husband's. The queen can substitute to the extent that she does because she is part of her husband, which her metaphorical transformation into a sati has already shown. Second, while her ashes and his do not commingle, her head accompanies him and gives him strength. It is because the queen is with him that her husband has the power to fight; they act as one. Third, as sati immolation is a sacrifice, so is decapitation: the queen offers her head on a silver platter, the instrument worshipers use to present offerings to deities.^[23] Because her death results from her desire for her husband's success, it is, as sacrifices are, creative and empowering. It sustains and enables. In so doing, it protects the husband and his soldiers by causing him to do his duty, that is to say, by making him pursue the course of heroism ordained for a Rajput warrior.

In sum, the dying-then-fighting sequence of the Hari Rani story makes sense within the context of male heroism. Female heroism must occur within the male sphere. This notion justifies the battle-related use

[23] On the ambiguities of sati immolation as sacrifice, see chapter 4.

of the queen's head. Once victory is attained, Hari Rani's head is retired. It is again identified with its proper discrete body because Hari Rani is conceived as a sati , a status logically established prior to battle. Furthermore, she is not worshiped for her heroism, whereas jhumjhar s are worshiped as the quintessence of heroism. There is no class of heroine stones. Hero stones commemorate the deeds and lives of heroes, and sati stones commemorate the deaths of women.^[24] Heroes and satis are worshiped as natural counterparts. Their complementarity externalizes the role separation that is symbolized by the curtain between the mardana and zanana . This complementarity does not preclude the celebration of female heroines, who are revered precisely because their actions do not fit (are not limited by) the social framework.^[25]

There is to the jhumjhar , as well as to the sati and particularly to the heroine, a pervasively liminal aspect. The period that extends from the jhumjhar 's decapitation to his collapse parallels that time between a sati 's vrat and immolation. Both the jhumjhar and the sati pass from strictly human to superhuman states, yet their marginal periods continue to reflect male and female roles. The jhumjhar fulfills his male duty so well that he exceeds it and so gains the power to fight on and destroy his enemies; the sativrata fulfills her female duty so well that she exceeds it and so gains the powers to bless and to curse, that is, to manage, her household. In both cases, a surfeit of sat occasions a transformation in consonance with the concept of duty insofar as duty translates in terms of role fulfillment, that is, with reference to acceptable and laudable actions. To the extent that the heroine partakes of sati symbolism, she conforms to the role-specific conception of duty. Yet she goes beyond the boundaries of role fulfillment defined by compliance with its rules.^[26] She receives admiration because of what she does. Yet what she does Rajput women understand—as we must—in terms of what she is .

Hence we must resort to the vocabulary of virtue. Rajput women hold that Padmini, the Rani of Jhansi, and Hari Rani are good Rajput women because they are brave (bahadur ) and because they have good character (sat ). To reiterate a crucial point: their actions are not good

[24] A jhumjhar , like other heroes, is worshiped in the form of a stone relief image of a warrior on horseback, placed outdoors on a village boundary or near the village well. If a jhumjhar has no stone, the household keeps a small metal image of him in a wooden box or basket. When a hero's wife dies as a sati the couple sometimes shares a stone.

[25] On saintly virtues as inimitable, see John Stratton Hawley, ed., Saints and Virtues (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987), xvi–xvii, passim.

[26] For highly productive discussions of rule compliance versus duty fulfillment I am indebted to David Wills.

per se. Indeed, considered out of context, their actions offend conventional wisdom and its rules and obligations. Heroines transgress but receive admiration. The appropriate question to ask is not, is what they were doing good? It is rather, in doing what they did, were they good women?

The Heroine as Goodness

At this juncture let us recall that goodness, character, is both substantive and normative, substance and norm being mutually dependent and reciprocally transformative.^[27] We have already seen how what one is gives value to what one does (the Rajput sati is assumed valid, the non-Rajput sati is suspect), but we have also seen that what one does establishes what one is (the Gujar sati is scrutinized for motive, but in the case examined, found valid; all valid sati s are deemed by the mode of their deaths to have been pativratas ). Given a substantialist orientation toward character,^[28] we might ask what ethical implications can be gleaned from the heroine's change of identity.

In gaining and sharing a male identity, the heroine remains the same person, the same woman, guided temporarily by the norms appropriate to male behavior. In so doing, she identifies with her husband, which is the purpose of each individual pativrata but represents an ideal unreachable by the ordinary pativrata . The identification that the heroine achieves illustrates what Marriott and Inden call the "particulate" nature of the individual.^[29] The adoption of the male role demonstrates a combination of the essences of two persons deemed for other (social role-performance) purposes individual. Identified with the male, the heroine represents an ideal and realizes it although and because the ideal controverts social categories. Thus the heroine, the person, is good both because she is who she is—not an individual in the typical sense of the term, but an individual identified as merged with another, her husband—and because her actions as a heroine demonstrate, symbolize, and proclaim her attainment of who she should be.

The transformation of identity is symbolized by action (the bearing of male weapons, the performing of male responsibilities) but the import

[27] Marriott and Inden, "Ethnosociology," 228, passim; Ziegler, "Action, Power," 23–25.

[28] Marriott and Inden refer to the South Asian perception of persons as "unique composites of diverse subtle and gross substances" ("Ethnosociology," 232).

[29] Marriott and Inden use this concept to analyze caste (ibid.), but it is also helpful in considering gender identification.

of such action is its validation of intention. Without appropriate intention, such a transformation is a masquerade. As I emphasize repeatedly, the symbolism of transformation refers to the subjective as well as the objective state. The heroine who is a pativrata does not make sense in terms of social classification; she makes sense only in terms of motivation.

Thus we must understand virtue as the heroine incorporates it. The heroine possesses bravery, which her conduct validates. That conduct is symbolic; it has a preordained set of meanings and commands a context consistent with the character it illustrates. Because symbolism depends on setting for meaning, symbolic action must fall within a comprehensible pattern. Isolated actions neither communicate nor instruct. Therefore the individual performing an isolated act cannot be paradigmatic, either directly or obliquely. What makes sense of a narrative's symbolism is the pattern the individual enacts, alters, or refutes by substituting or combining it with another pattern.

In order to understand female heroism it is essential to compare and contrast pattern illustrations, each of which contributes to the pattern's meaning over time and at any particular moment for one particular person. We comprehend the story of Padmini by comparison with the pativrata-sati scenario from which it deviates and with the female heroic scenario, which like the myths of Hari Rani and the Rani of Jhansi it exemplifies. What is especially interesting is that it affirms the identity and necessity of good character, established not through specific actions but through intent, symbolically validated by death.

And so although technically deviant, heroines are exceptionally good persons, persons whose characters instruct and inspire over the course of time through the medium of personal interpretation. As narrators draw on these exemplars over and over again, they tell us much about the ongoing creative tension between religious tradition and socialization. They embody and illustrate sat . Through admiration of the possessors of sat , narrators vivify the past that inspires them.

In both veneration of sati s and admiration of heroines, then, women praise the accumulators of sat . This does not mean they themselves want to become heroines any more than it means they want to become sati s. The sati s and heroines they admire are overwhelmingly figures from the Rajput past. Rajput women see them as models that can help women be mindful of pativrata responsibilities. We may find it difficult to think of these models as empowering women to perform their domestic roles, but Rajput women do not: the sacrifices of these women made them into great, superhuman beings. Rajput women see themselves as women who

do not go out but who perform sacrifices at home for the sake of husbands and families. They still admire the spirit of those whose sat becomes manifest in sacrificial fire; its inspirational force appears in the comments of many of the women whom I interviewed. One woman told me stories of Padmini, Ruthi Rani, and Hari Rani and went on to describe a relative who carried out a suicide pact with her husband during the 1950s when her husband was severely depressed by the disinheritance after 1947. The woman who narrated these stories saw her relative as a good woman but did not consider her a sati because the relative's fear of being a young widow seemed to be her motivation, not truly selfless devotion. This narrator told me of another woman who died in the same period who is considered a sati because she had the proper motivation.^[30] She considered that sati to have died in a transitional period, however, and does not think sati immolations are valid today.

Another woman who described her favorite heroines then told me that circumstances have changed but "there is something about fire that still attracts Rajput women." She said that they still cannot but gaze into the fire and feel an urge to join it. By this, I believe, she meant that although the practice of sati immolation has changed, women still have sat , which their shared attraction to flames demonstrates.^[31] Viewing it as both inherent and cultural, a nobleman also mentioned this temptation to me and recited for my instruction a well-known doha about a spectator who sees a lion (Rajput) drawn to a fire but fearfully skirting around it and then sees a Rajput woman drawn to a fire and fearlessly mingling with it. The narrator used this verse to back up his point that Rajput women are actually braver, more heroic, more virtuous than their men. He then recited one of the stories in which a woman shames her man into battle (the story of "the sound of clanging iron" in chapter 5) and concluded that even today, "Whatever we [men] do, it is our women who make us do it." It seems such stories and the one about Hari Rani remain poignant to women today. They dramatically illustrate the widely shared belief that through giving up the self, women gain character and power.

In sum, the exemplars of sat are paradigms for pativratas , who seek to protect their husbands and families. Rajput women understand the duty of protection to encompass their caste and gender responsibilities. As women and as caste members they act by protecting their husbands'

[30] That woman's shrine is found on the airport road in Jodhpur.

[31] Her description reminded me of the temptation to jump some people describe when they stand at the edge of a cliff or tall building.

lives and by pushing their husbands to perform their duties. Referring to and passing on paradigms of protection, these women conserve and contribute to a mythical tradition that makes sense of and gives meaning to the ever-imperfect character of social convention and social life. Identifying with the heroine, the ordinary pativrata accepts and affirms the necessity to internalize social control through sacrifice, which is how women perform their protective role.

Relating good character (sat ) and the duty (dharm ) of protection is bravery, which women see as a disposition toward sacrifice. All heroines and satis are brave (bahadur ) Rajput women who "do not run away from hardship," as one woman put it.^[32] This bravery gives kinetic force to goodness and catalyzes protective sacrifice, which preserves life and welfare. It effects fulfillment of a preconceived protective duty, performance of which is the paramount external index of character. As I emphasized, duty is not expressed in specific action, although certain acts such as religious fasts or marital obedience are thought prima facie to accord with it. It is expressed in terms of intention, which is why moral exemplars are emulated despite their violation of approved conduct. Bravery animates a selfless intention to sacrifice, be it that of personal desires by a pativrata or of life by hero, sati , or heroine who is ultimately a sati .

The heroines we have considered conform to a pattern of protection that functions when the standard social pattern of protection breaks down. Just as the duty of the warrior is to protect the realm and the duty of the wife is to protect her husband as he protects the realm, the responsibility of the heroine is to protect where ordinary protection no longer suffices. Where society is threatened from without and customary defenses prove inadequate to their task, the interiorization of the social order—metonymically represented as parda —by the heroine, who comes to perform the tasks of men, sustains the social and moral order.

Padmini and the rest affirm the pativrata paradigm just as certainly as they violate the pativrata role. Because of their character, they are called pativratas and judged the best among them. Our attention now turns to the other figure frequently listed as being among the best of Rajput women, Mira Bai. We must discover the curious logic by which Mira, who also violates the pativrata role but is not herself called a pativrata , is interpreted obliquely to affirm it.

[32] One woman noted that Mewari women are especially brave; she said women living in Jaipur could never have done what Padmini and the others did.