Worshipping Goddesses, Silencing Women: What a Hindi Poem Reveals About Respect and Rights

A Hindi spoken-word reel makes a pointed distinction: it is easy to honour a goddess who cannot answer back, while a living woman can question the rules imposed on her. The poem asks why women are celebrated as divine in religious imagery yet can face restrictions, violence and pressure to remain silent in ordinary life.

This is a critique of the gap between symbolic reverence and everyday treatment, not evidence that every believer treats women badly. Worship and respect are not mutually exclusive; the question is whether admiration is accompanied by freedom, equal dignity and protection from abuse.

What the poem draws together

The performer invokes several different histories and stories. References to a woman placed on a funeral pyre evoke sati, the burning of widows, which was made illegal under the Bengal regulation of 1829. A woman left in a forest evokes versions of Sita’s exile in the Ramayana, a literary and religious narrative interpreted in different ways, not a modern documented incident. The poem also invokes the devadasi system; while its histories and the experiences of women associated with it were diverse, the coercive dedication and exploitation of women prompted prohibitory laws, including Karnataka’s Devadasis (Prohibition of Dedication) Act.

Its reference to taxation on women’s breasts recalls the history of caste, dress and taxation in Travancore. Upper-cloth restrictions and struggles against caste-based humiliation have historical grounding. But popular tellings often merge the women’s poll tax called mulakkaram, rules about upper-body clothing and the contested story of Nangeli into a single incident. The exact claim that a tax was measured by breast size must not be presented as settled historical fact.

These examples are not interchangeable. A religious epic, a prohibited widow-burning practice, a varied social institution and disputed accounts of a historical tax have different kinds of evidence. The poem uses them together to express anger at the policing and silencing of women; its rhetoric should not erase those distinctions.

Why the contrast still matters

The question is not only historical. India’s National Family Health Survey, NFHS-5 (2019–21), reported that 29.3% of ever-married women aged 18–49 had experienced physical or sexual violence by a spouse. The figure is a population survey estimate, not evidence about worshippers as a group or proof that religious devotion causes violence. The Protection of Women from Domestic Violence Act, 2005, recognises the need for remedies and protection within domestic relationships.

The gap the poem identifies is therefore meaningful even without making every historical line a literal fact. A society may publicly honour female figures while some living women still experience violence, caste discrimination or limits on choice. Devotion alone cannot demonstrate that rights are respected; conduct, institutions and effective safeguards matter.

Respect must include the right to disagree

A woman should not need to be regarded as a goddess to be treated as a full person. Her rights include choosing, speaking, refusing, working and living free from violence. Denying those rights is unjust, irrespective of whether the justification is presented as custom, honour or religion.

The poem’s strongest defensible message is that symbolic respect cannot excuse real-world control. It invites viewers to judge a society’s respect for women not only by its prayers and images, but by how women are treated when they say no or ask difficult questions.