Understanding an esoteric experience
Any mention of Sufism in Sindh seems to evoke images of the shrines of Sufi saints and exploitative Gadi–Nasheens. Such an approach is parochial and perhaps even erroneous, because Sufi practices often do not correspond with these stereotypical definitions
By Abdul Haque Chang
Going beyond the confinement of these stereotypical definitions, the underlying theme in Sufism in Sindh is its diversity. Despite the fact that Sindh is a small region, Sufi traditions in the province manifest themselves in many hues and shades. This keeps the central message the same: to provide spiritual space to ponder the deep secrets of nature.

'Oppressed' no more
By Mahnaz Rahman
Abida is "middle pass" (eighth grade) and after her marriage to a plumber from her clan, she lives in Husain Panhwer Goth where no one except her is educated. Before her marriage, she used to live in Mirpurkhas and wanted to study at least until matriculation (10th grade). Her community, however, was against it and she had to succumb to their pressure.

"The ideas and belief -- courtesy a culture ever more mired in materialism, consumerism and false advertising -- that we should have it all, do it all and be it all AND be happy. And if we are not, by God, something is wrong."

--From a book by Cathi Hanauer

It's a typical Monday morning in Mehreen's* life – she is making breakfast (and lunch) for her six-year-old daughter and husband while discussing a project on the phone with her colleague from the advertising agency she works for; a conversation that is interspersed with instructions she is giving to her maid. As she hangs up the phone, Mehreen clears the table, hands her husband his lunch and bids him farewell before he leaves for work and sprints to her room. She has exactly 10 minutes to get dressed, gather her work documents and give a few last-minute instructions to her maid, before she leaves the house with her daughter.

The latter has to be dropped off to school after which Mehreen must maneuver through rush-hour traffic to make it to work in time. The rest of her day consists of meeting with clients, making deadlines, picking her daughter up from school (as well as her nanny), running errands and making it home in time to cook dinner, help her daughter with her homework, do the laundry, feed the cat, spend quality time with her husband and then crash. If she's lucky she will get enough sleep to do it all over again the next morning when her alarm rings.

Meet the modern-day Karachi woman who is a multitasker par excellence -- a professional by day and domestic goddess by night (or evening). In between her two primary duties, she must find the time to be a loving mother, skilled home-maker, dutiful wife along with the will to hit the gym and salon. Simply put, she must be everything to everyone (including herself) and find happiness in that. Unfortunately, she isn't always happy. There is just too much on her plate with which she is trying to strike a balance between work and family obligations. And if she is unable to do it all, then she must feel guilty or inadequate since she has failed to meet the precedent set for a 'complete' woman. "Don't get me wrong, I love my life," says 36-year-old Mehreen. "I love my job and I can't imagine life without my husband or my daughter. But there are days when I just want to run away from my hectic schedule and do absolutely nothing but be myself," she tells Kolachi.

However, Mehreen can't voice these emotions because "I feel guilty for thinking such things. I mean look at my life – it's so great and here I am complaining that I want to get away from it. Doesn't that make me a bad mother and wife?" Not necessarily, says Sara Jamil, a part-time teacher and freelance graphic designer who is also a mom. According to Jamil, such feelings are natural because "our lives are so much more packed now. Every minute is accounted for even if you are just doing fun things or relaxing. I feel like I am on a roller coaster all the time, which is fun but is also relentless and after a while you do get dizzy," she explains.

And it is this dizzying experience that can sometimes get out of hand with the result that often women unknowingly pendulum between two extremes – elation and depression. According to Dr Rubina Kidvai, Clinical Psychologist at the Pakistan Association for Mental Health (PAMH), most women who come to see her often complain that they are irritable or are hitting their kids. "They are not always aware of what the underlying issue is when they come in bearing such symptoms," she tells Kolachi. Over time, however, the connection is established – be it finances, work, romantic relationships or children.

Kidvai says that given the lack of research in Pakistan, it is difficult to determine whether or not most women who seek therapy for their mood swings, anxiety and depression feel this way because of their high-pressure lives. However, in a recent survey conducted by the PAMH, the results showed that married women are more depressed than their single counterparts. "This has a lot to do with the fact that women are not allowed to express themselves openly," she adds. "And since no one talks about how their responsibilities will increase once they're working, married or have children, most women don't even know what hit them." This, explains Dr Kidvai, is based on the assumption that women will automatically know how to deal with their ever-changing roles. So they are constantly apologetic for their inability to be super women because no one told them that it's okay to feel tired and fed-up.

The pressure to do it all, however, is not just on married, working women. All too often, single women also get the short end of the stick when it comes to balancing work and home. "I wake up by 7.30 a.m. during weekdays, get to work by 9.30 a.m. and get home by seven in the evening. Once I'm home, there are several chores around the house that I have to do," says Khizra Munir, Creative Manager at Interflow Communications. While Munir explains that the juggling act does get tiring, she feels that has no one else but herself to blame for having too many things to do. "I have this idea that I have to prove to everyone that I can handle everything – I work outside the house because I want to," she adds. And since it's a conscious decision on her part, Munir, like many other women, continues to balance the two as best as she can.

A little help from the spouse or brother would go a long way but that is not always the case, says a professor of psychology at the University of Karachi (KU). "There aren't many men here who are willing to shoulder the responsibility with their wives or sisters and those who do consider it as 'helping out' instead of being responsible for a particular task," he tells Kolachi. So even when women do get the help they need from the men in their lives, they think of it as a 'favour' rather than sharing work with the former. As a result, they end up feeling worse about themselves because "of their 'failure' to manage everything properly."

The cycle of guilt and added responsibilities for the 'do-it-all' Karachi woman is relentless. And while the pressure in their lives is higher than it has ever been, so does the unwillingness to talk about it. Perhaps it's time to abandon our illusions and be honest, if nothing else.

Home Economics "redefined"While most women are expected to do just about everything, emphasis is given to whether or not they end up being good home makers. It is perhaps for this reason that even today many young, single women enroll in vocational training programmes (three-six month courses that teach cooking, stitching and the works) in a bid to learn how to be skilled home maker, more than anything else.

"Most girls who get admission here come thinking that they will learn cooking and stitching which will help them after marriage," says Fariha Zeeshan Khan, a lecturer at the Rana Liaquat Ali Khan Government College of Home Economics (CHE), who has been teaching there for seven years. "We are not a vocational institute but sadly, most students and their parents think this is the best place to learn home making skills," she adds.

Fariha explains that while it is important to learn how to be a home maker, a four-year BS degree at CHE can open up various avenues. "There is catering, hotel management, interior decoration, clothing and textile and these are just some of the professions where a BS degree can come in handy. So you see, home economics is not just about attaining marital bliss," adds Fariha.

Also, a lot of girls who are 'weak' in science and commerce subjects come to home economics because of the commonly held belief that it is not a tough programme which isn't entirely true – the four-year degree programme is anything but easy, points out Fariha. Still, women come to the CHE with the preconceived notion that "home economics will be something 'short and sweet' and a good way to pass time before they get married," laments Fariha.

--SP

The woman of today is completely different from the one hailing from our mother's and grandmother's time. She has emerged as an educated, independent woman, who is ready to share the burden of earning a living with her significant other.

It is this new woman that Mrs Khan, a matchmaker by profession, deliberates on while talking to Kolachi. Running a marriage bureau for the last 12 years, Mrs Khan has arranged several successful matches.

Kolachi: What qualities do men look for in their life partners?

Mrs Khan: Trends have certainly changed as far as looking for an ideal life partner is concerned. Men today want wives who are equally educated and are willing to work outside the house.

Kolachi: How have men's attitudes changed towards working women?

Mrs Khan: For many years, men thought it was insulting to have their wives work alongside them. Their families did not approve of such girls. Now, however, given the increase in the cost of living, men want women who work and can support the family along with them. In the last two years, men's attitudes towards educated and working women have greatly changed.

Kolachi: How educated does a man want his wife to be?

Mrs Khan: Gone are the days when men wanted an 'Inter or BA pass' companion. There are some conservative families who still think that an educated woman may start controlling their son but most of them don't think that way anymore. Families come to me seeking girls who have a Master's degree from reputable universities. Men want doctors and MBAs as their wives now.

Kolachi: So have the other demands gone down?

Mrs Khan: Certainly not. The materialistic demands of men and their families have increased more and more with the passage of time. If a family is looking for an educated woman, then they also want the girl to be rich.

Also, families living in the upscale areas of the city are not willing to get their sons married off to girls living on the other side of the bridge as they believe that living standards differ from one area to the other. Previously, girls from North Karachi would get married to men living in Defence or Clifton but that doesn't happen anymore. Secondly, they want the girl and her family to be well-mannered, elegant and pleasing to the eye. Often families are rejected because of the way in which the tea was served to them. They scrutinise each and every thing -- from the house to the business and to the dowry prospects. Thirdly, people still prefer fair, petite girls and ask for them when they come to me.

Kolachi: So what does a woman want in a man?

Mrs Khan: The women of today are also extremely demanding. They want to get married to guys who are earning over Rs40,000 and are educated. A large majority wants young men who make a lot of money and has a high standard of living.

Kolachi: What is, in your opinion, the reason for the increase in divorces in Pakistan?

Mrs Khan: Given the lack of compromise from both parties, the divorce rate has become very high. In the last three to four years, the divorce rate in our country is the same as it is in western countries. Nowadays, the husband and wife are not at all patient with each other. I get many cases in which marriages have been broken within two to three months because the girl or the boy weren't able to live with one another. For this reason solely, I encourage families to meet and let their children decide whether or not they can get into a relationship.

By the time we are in our early 20s, most girls in our part of the world have heard and experienced enough stories about marriages to be able to write a handbook on the subject. However, unlike the karmic matches of India or the dating wonders of the West, marriages in Pakistan are a result of the time-tested tradition of the arranged 'rishta' (proposal).

A precipitate of our Indian heritage, the rishta for any Pakistani girl or boy comes in many shapes and sizes. There is the full-throttle rishta, comprising an entire family from the ailing grandmother to the wailing great-grandson all of them going to the prospective candidate's house to ask her hand in marriage. So if the girl is having second thoughts about marriage, she will, in all likelihood, go cold turkey after this extreme encounter. Then there is 'multiple-visits' family, who makes repeated visits to a girl's house before they actually propose. First, the parents or the elders of the house come to 'check' if they can bring their other family members. Once they have determined that, they bring the rest of their nanis, dadis chachis and phupees 'see' the girl.

What is interesting in all of this is that in most cases, the girl's family rarely -- if ever -- gets to see the boy, who is sheltered away like the princess in fairy tales and is only brought to the fore when every other person in his family has approved of the girl. While it is okay to be a bit bashful, on behalf of all the girls of the city I just want to say "get a life!"

While it is always difficult to meet the demands of your average suitor in Karachi (a 16-year-old MBA who looks like a super model and is incidentally also capable of being a Stepford wife), in some extreme cases, the humble requests put forward by the boy's parents are somewhat disturbing. For instance, this one family pestered my parents for my sister's hand in marriage, saying that they wanted a doctor while requesting that she stop practicing after the wedding.

In another case, a friend was sought after by many a suitor because she was tall -- a family which curiously comprised vertically challenged individuals demanded that the girl should 'only' be tall. Similarly, people looking to improve their gene pool request for fair, healthy and 'smart' girls forgetting that their dark, stubby, dim-witted boy may also have something to do with the future off spring.

In rare cases when the boy actually does show up, one is forced to act all civilised as a complete stranger stares at you unabashedly (your upbringing may have taught you to slap any such individual). Even more interesting is the fact that while it is okay for the boy to 'check out' the girl, the latter is usually in a fix since speaking or even looking at the boy may make her appear 'forward' and 'modern'. Besides, checking out your prospective beau can be a tad difficult when you are surrounded by the mothers, both his and yours, who are watching you like a hawk.

The process of getting married is no picnic for men either. One cousin relayed in the strictest confidence that he is so tired of looking for 'the one' that he has actually given up on the search. Another friend described the 'CIA inquisition' conducted by the girl's parents where he was asked questions like what his salary was and whether or not he had been in serious relationships before.

Having said that, despite its faults, an arranged match does have a certain kind of honesty about it. There are no pretenses; both parties know exactly what they want and only take the plunge when they are absolutely sure they want to. Though this lacks the mystery and spontaneity of dating, there are countless happily married couples that swear by the joy they have found thanks to their overbearing elders.

When dogma replaces faith: spiritual wellbeing vs tools of exploitation

Exploiters have historically used every method available to ensure their hegemony over the exploited. This is the story of how one man allegedly used a combination of three factors -- political and social clout as well as dogma -- to try and wipe out three families of peasants

By Urooj Zia

In January 2009, Deen Muhammad Mahar (alias Deenu Mahar), a local landowner from district Amarkot allegedly kidnapped one of the Haaris (landless peasants) who used to work on his land. Mahar is asmall landowner (15 acres), and the people working on his land were all bonded to him through debts. The three families who lived on his land -- three families, 17 people in total (five men, five women, seven children, mostly babies -- were immigrants from Tharparkar. They were all Kohlis, low-caste Hindus.

The alleged kidnapping led to a minor "uprising" and one of the Haaris lodged a complaint at the local police station, and the matter was taken up by the Umerkot District and Sessions Court.

On March 3, the judge ordered the SHO to produce the 17 people at the next date of hearing. The police raided Mahar's lands, recovered the three families, kept them under custody for two days, and produced them in court on March 5. Two relatives of the Haaris -- including a man identified as Dharmu Kohli, a resident of Kisana Mori, district Tando Allahyar -- were present in court on the day for the moral support of the 17 people.

The second kidnapping

The court set all 17 people free and ordered that they be produced at the next hearing on March 17. The police should have kept them in custody, but they "released them in the custody of Dharmu Kohli and his friends," the SHO of the local police station told Indus Watch.

Meanwhile, on March 5, after being released by court, the group of 19 people, including Dharmu Kohli, obtained a small truck, and decided to leave. As soon as they got out of main Amarkot city, Deenu Mahar's men allegedly surrounded them, and whisked off all 19 of them. Eyewitnesses told Indus Watch that Mahar's men were armed to the teeth.

They beat up Dharmu Kohli and his friend, and threw them off on the side of the road 'a long distance away, in the middle of nowhere,' Dharmu and his friend told Indus Watch later. 'We walked back to Amarkot, and got there only the next day. We then got in touch with some activists who we knew in Hyderabad.'

At the court hearing on March 17

The 17 people were not produced in court on March 17, the SHO claimed that they had run away, and the case was dismissed.

On March 20, when Indus Watch visited Amarkot to speak to the SHO and Mahar, the latter came over wearing a tattered shoe, and pled poverty. He said that he owned "only 15 acres" of land in Amarkot, and worked as a lab assistant at the Umerkot college as a BPS-10 government officer. He said that he earned Rs12,000 per month. Deenu, however, is backed by the PML-F chief Pagaro, and residents of Amarkot claimed that Mahar's "armed thugs" were actually the Hurs. Media personnel in the area were also reluctant to touch the case because of what they referred to as "the Pagaro connection."

Moreover, the poverty plea could not explain how he was able to advance the alleged Rs200,000 loan to the three peasant families who had thus been bonded to him by debt.

The SHO claimed, as SHOs usually do in such cases, that the Haaris had run away and had not been kidnapped. Deenu Mahar claimed the same. It may be pertinent to note here that the SHO himself is a "follower" (Mureed) of Pakistan Muslim League – Functional (PML-F) chief Pir Pagaro.

What happened next?

A couple of days later, frantic phone calls from somewhere near the Indo-Pak border conveyed the message that the missing Haaris had been traced.

They said that after being kidnapped, they were taken to a bordering area of Tharparkar. 'Behind us were Rangers checkposts, and in front of us was the Indian border, and the check posts of the Indian Border Security Forces (BSF). Mahar's men told us to go forward (towards the BSF), and also said that they will shoot us if we turned back (towards Pakistan),' they told Indus Watch later.

"We stayed in the area for three days. We didn't know what to do. We got very little food and water. When the babies couldn't take it anymore, we finally went to a Rangers check post and told them the entire story. The Rangers said they could not take action against anyone because this was not their jurisdiction, but they could transport us to the nearest police check post," the Haaris said. "Once this was done, we got in touch with Dharmu Kohli, who got in touch with activists in Hyderabad. A van was arranged so that we could be brought to Hyderabad."

The third kidnapping

When Dharmu Kohli got to the police station, he was told that someone had already taken the 17 people away. He got in touch with activists in Hydetrabad, who suspected that a man "G.H.M" was behind this. They got in touch with him and he said that he had the people at a camp.

G.H.M runs an NGO, and had initially gotten in touch with activists in Hyderabad who were dealing with the Amarkot case. He offered to recover the Haaris for them if they "dropped the case against Deenu Mahar." The activists refused.

"We told him that we don't want the kidnapped people 'in charity,'" Sindh Haari Porhiat Council (SHPC) head Punhal Sario told Indus Watch. "We have to build a movement. This (G.H.M's way) is not how it is done."

Sario demanded that G.H.M hand the peasants over immediately. The latter refused, and said that the SHPC should come over and pick the people up themselves. A van was arranged, and Dharmu Kohli finally managed to bring the people back. They currently live in fear of being kidnapped yet again.

Meanwhile, on March 26, Mahar conducted a press conference and demanded that the allegations against him be dropped. He further said that if any more "people with cameras came investigating in Amarkot, he would go to Hyderabad and start a hunger strike in front of the Hyderabad Press Club."

Where is the 'missing' person?

Amazingly, despite all this, the man who was initially kidnapped in January 2009, is yet to be recovered. "We have no idea where he is. I don't really know how I will take care of my children alone. Addee hum ghareeb loge hain. hum kia kar saktey hain (Sister, we're poor people. What can we do?)," his wife told Indus Watch as she cradled her two toddlers in her lap, while her oldest child, a five-year-old daughter, tried to hide behind her Palloo.

Sadly, this case is neither unique, nor is it the first of its kind. Debt-bondage is a common phenomenon in the rural areas of Pakistan, especially in the fields of agriculture, brick-kilns, and carpet-weaving, and continues to flourish despite the Bonded Labour Abolition Act of 1992. Perpetrators take advantage of the rampant poverty, and generally go scot-free because of protection from political leaders, and heads of "spiritual" dynasties.

Understanding an esoteric experience

Going beyond the confinement of these stereotypical definitions, the underlying theme in Sufism in Sindh is its diversity. Despite the fact that Sindh is a small region, Sufi traditions in the province manifest themselves in many hues and shades. This keeps the central message the same: to provide spiritual space to ponder the deep secrets of nature.

What is critical in any understanding of Sufism is that the experience is not necessarily the same for everyone; rather the desires of different individuals lead them to find their own path. Sufism in Sindh, like anywhere else, is exceptionally diverse in terms of its institutional structure as seeking ways of being a Sufi.

Misconceptions about the tenets of Sufism are plenty, yet neither is it limited to nor does it begin from Sufi shrines. It is neither solely centred on the personality of Sufi saints, nor is there an institution centre such as the Vatican.

Sufism in Sindh also can be called rhetorical imaginary. This rhetoric imaginary is expressed, conceived and perceived through Sufi poetry of Shah Abdul Latif, Sachal Sarmast and other Sufi poets.  The poetics of mystical message contain in it the traditional allegories of 18th century Sindhis, which are defined in subtle ways by using Sufi metaphors. Thus vernacular language i.e. Sindhi expressed through these poets urges Sindhi intellectuals to always reconsider the boundaries between the Sindhi culture and Sufism.

Doctrinal Opposition: Good Sufism, Bad Sufism

From the middle of the last century, Sufism in Sindh came under attack primarily by two sets of traditions: Marxist and modern Sindhi writers. Marxists and modernists have traditionally argued that feudalism and traditional Peri-Muridi (saint-disciple) relationships are both different manifestation of exploitation of rural folk.

These literary trends grew strength with the passage of time, making it hard to call Sufism a spiritual domain.  Many of these writers considered Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai, the greatest Sufi poet of Sindh, and his poetry as not mere Sufi rhyme but as a social history of 18th century Sindh. This debate polarised Sufism in Sindh for a long time as an antiquated item.  

Though the debate about what is Sufism, or what is good or bad Sufism is very old, it does not translate into a notion of Sufism "being dead", or that there are no Sufi trends in Sindh at present time. Today Sufism is as much debated in Sindh as it was debated in the 1950s by Muhammad Usman Deplai, whose trend is continued in modern prose by Amar Jalil in a short story Aror Jo Must.

 Most controversies surrounding Sufism in Sindh revolve around the shrine culture, with many groups firmly believing that such cultures are based on ignorance and exploitation.  The problem with these definitions and notions is that they are very reductive: they ignore multiplicity, diversity and unity.

Rhythm, songs and social spaces

 Sufi music sung at the shrines of Sindh in fact revitalised Sufism in Sindh in a different way: Sufi songs in Sindh provided social spaces where traditional social (and patriarchal) boundaries are broken.

While widespread stereotypical ideas, as expressed in short stories, in poetry, in print and electronic media, may all seem pejorative, the larger issue is one of representation and construction of Sufism is popular discourse. Not much consideration is given to questions regarding the means, ways, methods and mechanism to create such classifications, categories, images and representations? 

The critical issue is perhaps to delve into and investigate social processes and formations, as well as communities and ideologies in certain essentialist ways. Sufism in Sindh prevails in much more subtle ways, and its manifestations are multiple. These manifestations are expressed through different means, which may be theoretically and practically different from the tenets of Sufism expressed at other places. Yet the spiritual attachment one has with specific ways and means of Sufism cannot be negated humanely.

Moving away from a modern, scientific perspective to define Sufism, one can describe the phenomenon as an experience based on observation and deep contemplation about life. These experiences may even lead one to a state of contemplation, from where he can understands the secrets of life in spiritual ways. Contrary to popular perception, spiritual bonds can be created by individuals alone, without having an essentialist need to have a master formally initiate a disciple into the path of Sufism.  The fulcrum of the concept is free affiliation of self, often with a song, and these songs connect individuals to the Sufi path. 

It is fair to state then that Sufism is based on experiences, and not solely on formalised theory. This particular experience can be felt by anyone, irrespective of status or literacy. In effect, this translates into the fact that this experience does not need any theory; rather theory cannot be understood unless one goes through this experience.

Sufism in this context transcends boundaries of time and space, which cannot be explained by through scientific explanations, religious debates, societal or objective limitations, or scholarly arguments. There are no rational explanations, and perhaps neither are explanations needed.

Abida is "middle pass" (eighth grade) and after her marriage to a plumber from her clan, she lives in Husain Panhwer Goth where no one except her is educated. Before her marriage, she used to live in Mirpurkhas and wanted to study at least until matriculation (10th grade). Her community, however, was against it and she had to succumb to their pressure.

Abida got married eight years ago. She has five children -- three girls and two boys. Two of her daughters and one of her sons attend school.

After her marriage, Abida taught older women of her village to write their names and also taught children to read the Quran. When a non-governmental organisation (NGO) set up a primary school in her village, she started working there, because she was the only educated person in her village.

Some people objected her going out to school daily while others encouraged her because she was imparting knowledge to the children of her village. Even her husband was apprehensive in the beginning but after a while, he understood the importance of her work. The girls of the village, who used to look after goats and buffaloes, now attend the school run by SEWA-Pak, an organisation of rural Sindh.

Abida, however, is lucky, because the people of her Goth (village) are relatively enlightened. They don't impose many restrictions on the mobility of wome, and no incidence of Karo-Kari (honour killing) has ever been reported there.

What happened next?

With the spread of education, the importance of cleanliness has been accepted by the people of Abida's village. Proper restrooms have cropped up in many places, and hygeine is ensured more stringently now.

Most of the men of the village are plumbers, while some work as electricians. The rest of the men and women work in the fields. The size of landholdings is between six to nine acres. The villagers do not have the facility of clean water; there is only one hand pump for 15 to 20 households. There is no maternity home in the Goth and pregnant women have to be brought to the Civil Hospital Mirpurkhas.

When Abida goes home after teaching in the school, she cooks food for her family. Her mother-in-law brings wood to be used as fuel in the stove. Her sisters-in-law look after the buffaloes owned by the family. Abida taught them to write their names.

Men can do the same

Bhagwano lives in Preeto Kohli village. There is no hospital in his village. There is one hand pump for two to three households while their cattle drink water from the canal. There is no sewerage system in the village and people have to face problems during the rainy season. Only a few houses have restrooms, and most people use the open fields, which is problematic for womenfolk. The women of village work in the fields, and pick cotton and cut grass for cattle.

Bhagwano has done his matriculation and since he was the most educated person in his village, he left his small business and established a primary school on his own land. There is a pre-school as well for children aged two to four-and-a-half years. Bhagwano made sure that all the children of his village were enrolled in the school. Now his school has been upgraded to a middle school, wherein among the students 25 are girls.

Issues that education can address

There are no issues such as "honour" killing in Bhagwano's village. He, however, is concerned about child marriage. To set an example, he got his daughter married only after she was 18-years-old. Bhagwano persuades other villagers not to practice child marriage either.