Dear Readers, today let’s talk about something different—something that touches the heart of our traditions and challenges the boundaries that have been set for us. We often think of widowhood as a time of sorrow, but what if the customs that surround it are what truly keep the grief alive? In Hinduism, the rules that govern a widow’s life are strict, from the colors she can wear to the food she can eat. But why do these traditions still hold so much power over a woman’s life, even in today’s world? Let’s explore the story behind these norms and ask ourselves: why can’t a widow wear red again, embrace joy, and live fully? Today, let’s open this conversation and reflect on how we can challenge these age-old expectations.
It has always amazed me how, when a child is born, they're free to wear whatever they want. Red, blue, pink—nothing is off-limits. Even a red bindi, something we often associate with married women, is worn with the innocence of youth. It seems like such an expression of freedom, doesn’t it? The world is open to them, and nothing about their existence limits their choices.
But what happens when life changes, when something so permanent is taken away? I’ve seen how a widow in Bengali culture is suddenly treated as if her very existence should be muted. Red—the same color a child could wear freely—becomes forbidden. A bindi, once a simple symbol of love and belonging, is now a distant memory. Even the foods she’s allowed to eat are reduced to vegetarian options as though to erase any sense of joy or indulgence from her life. It’s as though society demands that she live in the shadow of her loss, constantly reminded of her change in status.
I’ve seen it, firsthand. The shift in treatment, the way people start to see you differently—like you're marked by your grief. When I look at women who have lost their spouses, I feel this painful sense of restriction. They seem to carry the weight of an invisible rulebook that tells them they can no longer celebrate life in the same way. But as I’ve watched this, I’ve also wondered: Why is this so? Why does society allow a child to wear red, a symbol of life and celebration, but refuse a woman the same right once she’s embraced widowhood?
There’s a history behind it, of course. Centuries of tradition that tied a widow’s identity to mourning, her clothing a reflection of her grief. But at what cost? When did the freedom to express oneself become tied so deeply to whether or not a partner is present? The truth is, the moment a woman becomes a widow, she’s expected to live by a set of rules that seem designed not just to remind her of her loss, but to diminish her very sense of self.
I can’t help but think of the women I know who have defied these norms. Women who still wear red, even though it’s "forbidden." They eat what makes them happy, despite the judgment, and somehow, that defiance gives me hope. But I also know how hard it is to push back against a lifetime of cultural conditioning. You almost feel like you have to apologize for your own existence.
I’m left wondering: Shouldn’t a widow have the same right to live fully as anyone else? Shouldn’t she have the freedom to express herself without being bound by outdated customs? These practices, no matter how deeply rooted, no longer serve a purpose. I wonder what would happen if we allowed widows to embrace color, to wear what makes them feel strong, not as a rejection of their past but as a celebration of their own strength.
Imagine a world where widows are free to wear red again—not to remind anyone of their loss, but to honor the resilience they carry. To embrace life again, not in spite of their history, but because of it. Wouldn’t that be a powerful shift?
Now the question is , Why Do These Traditions Still Exist? Would like to share my Thoughts on Widowhood and Cultural Norms"
I often find myself wondering: why do these traditions still exist, especially in today’s world where everything is changing so quickly? The restrictions on widows in Bengali culture—like not being allowed to wear red, not applying a bindi, or eating only vegetarian food—seem so out of place when you really think about them. Yet, they are still very much a part of our reality. Why is that?
Historically, widowhood was seen as more than just a personal loss—it was a public statement. A woman who lost her husband was expected to demonstrate her grief in every possible way. In our culture, red has always symbolized joy, marriage, and life. So, when a woman becomes a widow, she’s not just mourning the loss of her partner; she’s also expected to remove herself from the celebratory part of life that red represents. It’s almost like society demands that she wear her sadness on her sleeve.
And it's not just the color she’s forbidden to wear. A bindi, something so small and simple, becomes a mark of separation. It’s no longer a symbol of womanhood or beauty, but a sign of something lost. The rule that widows should only eat vegetarian food adds another layer to this idea—that their joy should be stripped away, that they must live in austerity, as though their grief can somehow be measured by the restraint they show in every part of their life.
Of course, these customs aren’t just random; they’re deeply tied to religious beliefs and cultural practices that go back centuries. Hinduism, particularly in Bengali tradition, has a specific view of widowhood, where the widow is expected to be removed from the joys of the world—since her connection to marriage is severed. The bindi and red are symbols of a life she can no longer have. The idea of eating only vegetarian food is tied to purity and asceticism, suggesting that the widow should live a life of simplicity, detached from worldly pleasures.
But when I think about it more, I realize that these traditions are really about control. They tell women how to behave, what to wear, and what to eat, all based on a role they didn’t choose for themselves. A widow’s grief isn’t just her personal journey—it becomes a societal one. And in some ways, these traditions make it easier for society to manage and understand her pain, by limiting how she can express herself. It’s almost like they create a box for her grief, making it more palatable for everyone around her.
These practices are also a reflection of deeply rooted gender norms. In many ways, women have been defined by their relationships—with their fathers, their husbands, their families. So, when a woman loses her husband, society doesn’t know what to do with her. She no longer fits neatly into the role she’s been assigned. It’s as if her identity gets wiped clean, and she’s expected to exist in this grey area, removed from the vibrancy of life.
I can’t help but think about how hard it must be for a woman to live within these confines. It’s not just about what she wears or what she eats—it’s about how she’s seen. She’s no longer the woman she once was. Instead, she becomes defined by her loss, and her grief is something she must wear every day. And that’s where these traditions keep her in a place of silence—of invisibility.
But the world is changing. Slowly, but surely, things are beginning to shift. More and more women are challenging these old traditions. I’ve seen women wear red, put on a bindi, and eat the food they love, despite the judgment. It takes courage, though. These changes don’t come easily. We’re still very much tied to the expectations of family and society. The pressure to conform is strong.
However, there’s a part of me that believes these traditions don’t need to define us anymore. We can mourn and celebrate in our own ways. We can choose to live fully, regardless of whether we are married, widowed, or single. But this will take time—because, as much as we might want to change, these traditions are still embedded in the fabric of our culture.
When I look at all of this, I think part of the reason these customs persist is because they provide a sense of structure. They give people a way to understand the chaos of life, particularly loss. Grief is hard to process, and these rules create a framework for how to handle it. It’s easier to ask a widow to stop wearing red than it is to ask society to shift its perspective on her role. These practices keep everything predictable.
But I also think these traditions endure because they help preserve a certain vision of gender roles. Women, in particular, have always been expected to conform to a certain standard, whether in life or in death. Losing a spouse changes a woman’s role, and society can’t seem to accept that she may still want to live freely.
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In the end, I believe it’s up to us to break free from these outdated expectations. A widow should have the right to wear what makes her feel strong and alive, to eat what nourishes her, and to live fully. It’s time to stop reducing women to just their marital status, to stop seeing them as incomplete when they lose their spouse. Maybe, just maybe, it’s time for red to become a color of strength again, not just for the young or the married, but for every woman who refuses to be confined by the past.
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"These traditions have existed for centuries, but that doesn’t mean they can’t change. The more we question, the more we open doors for a future where women are free to live without the weight of outdated customs. I’d love to hear your thoughts—what do you think about these traditions? Let’s keep this conversation going. Until next time, take care and stay thoughtful. See you again soon!"
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