The Vanishing Voices: A Look at Shifting Gender Dynamics in the Bunt Community

I wrote this essay originally in 2023. It was an essay written in a rage. Because I wasn't able to find what I was looking for. I found that the stories I grew up with didn't match the women I saw around me. I read this book by Simon Doonan that summer called Wacky Chicks. It was about unapologetic women who were fearlessly inappropriate. The anecdotal stories I heard of about bunt women before the 1930s were wacky chicks. Fearlessly inappropriate and unapologetically great. I was in pursuit of such women of today. I found many bunt women who were successful in their careers and businesses. I found some who didn't conform to the norm - but very few who didn't worry about what society thought or were bound by the reputation of their fathers. I didn't find many wacky chicks. They were bound by their father's vanity, reputation, and the prospect of who would marry them.

Such a shame that we've moved from women who were confident and fearless to those who are tiptoeing in their wackyness. Some said they don't care about what other people think or say, but their behaviour and actions prove otherwise. Bear with me as I try to dissect where this behaviour emerged from. Was it migration? Was it from the company they kept? Did the Kens take over in a Barbie world?

This is an essay that may not be everyone's cup of tea. Stop right here if you don't enjoy reading long essays.

Domba Ajja and the Echoes of the Past

My grandmother (not a wacky chick at all) often spoke of her father, Domba, with an almost mythical reverence. "A handsome man, towering at 6'4," she'd sigh, "women would crane their necks just to look at him." She, barely scraped 5'1 herself, and knowing that my great-grandmother was the same, I took these pronouncements with a healthy dose of scepticism. Genes skipping generations? My eyes would roll whenever I dared comment on a handsome actor – her father, she'd insist, was the epitome of male beauty. Even a grand-aunt, who had also known Domba Ajja, corroborated the tales, adding that his feet were remarkably beautiful, a trait none of his seven sons inherited, along with his striking looks and stature. (Apparently, the quickest way to a Bunt woman's heart in her case was a compliment on her father's feet! Weird.)

I found my grand-uncles quite handsome – tall, fair-skinned men with pleasant features. I knew two well, and one, around 6'2, was a particular favourite, a man who could have easily graced magazine covers in his youth. One thing was common amongst them all - they concerned themselves with wealth and status.

My grandmother was born in the 1940s; her eldest brother, she recalled, was about 23 or 24 years her senior, placing his birth in the late 1910s or early 1920s. His mother, my great-grandmother, had him at just fourteen, suggesting her birth year was around 1905 or earlier (She was a wacky chick.) This would place Domba Ajja's birth in the late 1880s or very early 1900s.

Men like Domba Ajja were the men who came of age during the waning years of British colonization, a period that also saw significant migration of Bunt men to burgeoning urban centres like Bombay and Madras, and even to England. According to community elders, this era also marked a subtle shift in women's attire. Temple statues crafted before the 1850s depict goddesses adorned with gold but bare-chested, lacking the blouses and sarees common today. It's unlikely that even the fierce warrior queen, Rani Abbakka (she may have been a bit wacky too), wore the typical saree drape we see now. As older wooden statues, made from tree bark extracts, were replaced, artists began incorporating blouses, reflecting the changing social norms where bare chests became associated with shame.

The Influence of Migration and Changing Norms

This is where the threads of migration and cultural change begin to intertwine. Think of the Non-Resident Indian (NRI) uncle who returned with exotic chocolates unavailable in India. These foreign goods weren't just treats; they were symbols – of wealth, status, and a different kind of sophistication.

When the Bombay-returned cousins sported blouses, suddenly the affluent women back home clamoured to have them stitched. When men from Bombay exchanged their traditional lungis and mundus for dhotis paired with silk shirts and gold cufflinks and buttons, Bunt men in Tulunadu followed suit. Even dietary preferences shifted. The Bombay returnees favoured white rice over the locally preferred Thanjana (brown rice cooked the previous day), and soon, white rice became a coveted addition to the local diet. Again, the food choices signalled a certain status. (It was a bit like the time everyone suddenly decided quinoa was the healthiest grain, wasn't it?)

But this influence extended far beyond clothes and cuisine. It subtly reshaped gender roles, traditions, and much more. It seemed to cultivate a new kind of vanity in Bunt men and a quietening of Bunt women's outward expression. This phenomenon, where external displays of status and self-importance overshadow more intrinsic values, is a key sociological element in understanding this cultural shift.

Contrasting Narratives: Powerful Women of the Past

I grew up hearing contrasting narratives. There was the story of Girija Dodda of Kapu, a woman of immense strength and entrepreneurial spirit, who ran businesses and nurseries. Her cadence, I was told, held a power that could dismantle any man's arrogance. She sat in the front seat of the car, directing affairs with unwavering authority. Then there was Dr Shetty of Mangalore, a pioneering doctor, the most educated woman of her time in that area, who commanded respect and led in her own distinct way. As the only daughter in a matrilineal Bunt family, her path wasn't constrained by patriarchal norms. I also remember tales of my grandmother's grandmother, a woman so revered she would recline like Lord Vishnu, eating grapes as villagers recounted their troubles. (Talk about a power breakfast!)

That era, and the times preceding it, were filled with stories of powerful Bunt women: Siri, who commanded rooms; Abbakka Chowta, who led armies into battle; and women who were strategists and leaders. This made me wonder: what happened to them? In a matrilineal community, shouldn't women be more prominent? And so, I began to dig deeper.

Shifting Roles During Colonial Times

The period between 1900 and 1940 witnessed Bunt families migrating to Bombay and Madras in search of better opportunities. They adapted to their new surroundings. Bombay, with its strong Maratha influence (a patrilineal community, yet one where women were far from silent, with queens playing significant roles), was also heavily influenced by British rule. Mangalore and Udupi experienced less of this direct British impact, while Tulunadu's interactions with Hyder Ali and Tipu Sultan hadn't fundamentally altered its cultural fabric.

However, the Bunt men who returned from Bombay and Madras, even for visits, significantly altered the cultural landscape. These weren't necessarily permanent returns; often, they were holiday visits, yet their impact was profound. Bombay, Mysore, and Madras served as initial points of contact with foreign cultures. Women living in these cities adapted to the prevailing social norms. Traditionally, Bunt men, especially first sons-in-law, were expected to care for their wives ancestral homes and assist their brothers-in-law in business. Domba Ajja himself oversaw his wife's lands and supported her brother's ventures. Before this era of migration, Bunt men often held positions of authority within their wives' or sisters' households, depending on birth and marriage order. Women were the primary decision-makers, strategists, innovators, and leaders. They were active participants in the economic and social spheres, holding court and bearing significant responsibility. (Imagine the board meetings in those days!)

The Bunt exodus to Bombay was largely driven by opportunities in the hotel industry. The women who accompanied them became "hotelier wives." They played crucial roles, from contributing substantial dowries to even establishing the hotels and engaging in subtle networking at social events. But in Tulunadu, these same women would have been the visible face of these ventures, not just behind-the-scenes influencers. Living in new urban environments, Bunt women interacted with women from different communities and adapted to the roles they observed. Factors like safety concerns during that time also contributed to women withdrawing from public roles like managing cash registers.

Education became a new boundary; uneducated women were often confined to their homes, while even educated women found themselves relegated to quieter decision-making roles within the household. The hotelier's wives, however, amassed wealth. Their investments in gold and the dowries they brought often yielded high returns, and they would return to their native lands by ship, their visits subtly reshaping the narrative. They inadvertently presented a life of leisure as a sign of newfound wealth, subtly altering perceptions of women's roles. (It was almost as if they were saying, "We've worked hard, now we're going to enjoy the fruits of our labour, and you should too!")

This created a behavioural shift, where the display of wealth and leisure became a status symbol, subtly undermining the recognition of women's active participation in economic life.

The Madras-based Bunt families, often comprising doctor wives, returned to their native lands less frequently, prioritizing education. Yet, they too lived within a predominantly patrilineal social structure, leading to a similar dynamic: women becoming less outwardly assertive, while men's voices grew louder. It wasn't a suppression of Bunt women – their inherent strength made that nearly impossible – but rather a shift in outward expression. Bunt women with smaller dowries in these new urban settings even reported instances of in-law abuse, a stark contrast to the traditional Bunt practice where women didn't typically live with their in-laws. This marked a new trend initiated by daughters-in-law outside Tulunadu. Despite these changes, the deep-seated love for daughters and their inheritance rights largely remained. However, families with only sons sometimes adapted more readily to patrilineal customs.

Male Vanity and Shifting Power Dynamics

Men became more concerned with outward appearances, while women became quieter, though the real power and authority often resided with the wealthier partner. Male vanity manifested in the acquisition of expensive silk clothes, gold buttons, and the adoption of the dhoti as a status symbol. They recounted their struggles in Bombay and their subsequent success, flaunting their newfound wealth and lifestyle during their visits. Wads of cash were conspicuously displayed and generously distributed. These fleeting moments of awe and envy fueled their vanity. Back in their native lands, people often mistook these "vanity fair" visits for their everyday reality, shaping aspirations of young men seeking their fortunes in Bombay and Madras. It took time before those back home could stage their own versions of these ostentatious displays. (Think of it as the early version of Keeping Up With the Joneses but with more silk and gold.) This centring of success stories and the emphasis on male achievements further contributed to the silencing of women's voices and their contributions.

The Rise of Education and New Opportunities

The 1940s brought further shifts. The British were departing, leading to another wave of migration. This was also the pivotal moment when A.B. Shetty and thirteen other Bunt visionaries joined forces to establish Vijaya Bank. This institution was revolutionary, a boon for Bunt farmers and a catalyst for further cultural change. Under the leadership of Mulki Sunder Ram Shetty, Vijaya Bank expanded rapidly, creating job opportunities for Bunt women across its numerous branches.

While the names of Attavar Balakrishna Shetty, Venkappa Punja, Sooryanna Shetty, Katapady Beedu Jagannath Ballal, Hariyanna Hegde, Sowkur Anthaya Shetty, Venkappa Shetty, Manjayya Hegde, Narayana Bhandary, Mahabala Rai, Dr Mahabala Adyanthaya, Krishnaiah Hegde, Naganna Hegde, Ramakrishna Punja, and Mulki Sundaram Shetty stand out as having a profound impact on the Bunt community itself, countless others have made significant contributions to the wider world and India. However, within the community, the influence of subsequent generations seems less pronounced.

The rise of Vijaya Bank saw many Bunt women entering the workforce in office jobs. Transfers through the bank led to further migration and cultural exchange. These Bunt individuals, returning for visits, often remained true to their roots, carrying their Bunt identity, matrilineal traditions, and spirited nature wherever they went. However, after the nationalization of banks in the 1980s, a potential decline in women culturally adhering to their roots became noticeable. Whether this was a direct consequence of the shift from a community-heavy banking system before the 1980s is a question worth pondering. (Perhaps the allure of a steady paycheck and less community involvement played a role?) This period marks a critical juncture where the focus on individual achievement, often by men, began to overshadow the communal and familial roles traditionally held by women in Bunt society.

Western Influences and Shifting Lifestyles

This period also saw more Bunts venturing to England and America, primarily as doctors and engineers. Their return visits brought a new set of status symbols. Speaking with an English or American accent became "cool," a new marker of wealth and class. Phrases like "Enk Tulu barpuji" ("I don't know Tulu") became fashionable. Wives who had experienced the West often looked down upon local rituals and traditions, perhaps influenced by being teased for their beliefs in "demonic rituals," making it easier to reject them entirely. Their visits, after years of absence, became a new kind of vanity fair:

1. They favoured shirts and trousers, sometimes even ties and blazers.

2. The lungi and dhoti were replaced by boxers and shorts in their private lives. (A moment of silence for the humble lungi).

3. Women adopted Western styles of dress.

4. Their children found the local delicacy, Kori Rotti, too spicy, preferring bread for breakfast and pizza for lunch. (The horror!).

5. Their children didn't speak Tulu, requiring their native-tongue cousins to look to their parents for translation.

6. Women worked less outside the home and became more outwardly reserved, even if their decision-making power within the household remained.

7. Heavier dowries often translated to more privileged treatment.

But what about their cousins who remained in Tulunadu?

1. Those with relatives working at Vijaya Bank outside the region aspired to similar jobs.

2. Those with family abroad eagerly awaited not only the coveted Toblerones and Hershey's bars but also lessons in Western fashion and speech.

3. Wealthy families tied to Tulunadu by inheritance and business began raising their children speaking English at home, mirroring their Westernized relatives.

4. The lungi started to disappear, and women looked to Bollywood for fashion inspiration.

5. Even Bunt men in Tulunadu who ran hotels (often their fathers-in-law's establishments) began to sideline women from public-facing roles.

Male vanity intensified, with a greater emphasis on signalling wealth, class, and status. Wives adorned themselves with heavier gold jewellery, and men sported gold chains. Status became a primary obsession. (It was as if they were auditioning for a Bollywood film 24/7). This pursuit of status, heavily influenced by Western ideals, further pushed women into the background, as their roles and contributions were increasingly devalued in comparison to the more visible achievements of men.

This era also saw the rise of awards and recognition within the community. People began striving for these accolades, performing favours to gain praise. Women, while outwardly quieter, participated in this "vanity fair" as well.

Internally, however, power often again remained with the wealthier partner.

Education, Competition, and Changing Roles (1960s Onwards)

Fast forward to the 1960s and beyond. Women were increasingly educated, benefiting from opportunities their mothers often missed due to early marriages coinciding with the onset of menstruation. However, it's important to note that women born in the 1940s and raised in major urban centres like Madras, Bombay, Bangalore, and Mysore were more likely to receive higher education than their counterparts in Tulunadu before the 1960s.

This began to change with the emergence of visionary educational institutions founded by the Bunt families: the Hegde's of Nitte, and the Shetty's of Mangalore. The 1980s witnessed a surge in the establishment of colleges and universities, including the A.B. Shetty Memorial Colleges, the M.V. Shetty Memorial Colleges, and the Nitte Education Trust – all prioritizing education and higher learning for all. The Pai's (from the GSB community, a patrilineal group), had already established colleges in Manipal years prior. While the GSB community's influence on Bunts was primarily one of healthy competition, T.A. Pai, a prominent banker from the GSB community, notably backed Dhirubhai Ambani when others hesitated. The Pai's consistently focused on trade and impactful education. The Bunts' entry into the banking system was after the Pai's. Similarly, the founding members of Vijaya Bank and the Bunt families who established colleges during this time were driven by a desire to make a difference and a sense of community pride. Women often played significant roles behind the scenes, even as men became more visible leaders.

This was a period of significant achievements for Bunt men: Professor N.R. Shetty became the first Bunt principal of KREC; writers like Kayyara Kinhana Rai gained wider recognition; doctors like Dinker Belle Rai earned acclaim; Kalmanje Jagannath Shetty became a Supreme Court Judge; and N. Santhosh Hegde served as the Advocate General of Karnataka.

This era saw "fame as currency" and "vanity by association." Your connection to someone who had achieved prominence became a way to signal your own status, wealth, and class. The ability to call in favours from influential individuals elevated one's social standing. Being a descendant of the Vijaya Bank founding team conferred a certain prestige, implying wealth. Knowing well-regarded hoteliers in Bombay made one a local notable. The closeness of your relationship and association with a famous man became your social climbing tool. (It was the original LinkedIn, but with more dinner parties and less humble-bragging). This social climbing, largely driven by male achievement, reinforced the pattern of diminishing female visibility within the community's power structures.

This period also coincided with a more standardized system of dowry. Men became more focused on outward appearances to attract desirable matches. Marriages, housewarmings, births, and funerals transformed into elaborate "vanity fairs." People showcased their most expensive cars, competing with relatives to acquire even grander vehicles before the next major event. Women participated with opulent clothing and heavier gold jewellery. Diamonds emerged as a newer status symbol, adorning wedding bands instead of plain gold. The very concept of a "fixed price" for dowry became a form of vanity, and higher education also served as a marker of wealth, class, and status. Degrees in medicine, law, or engineering from prestigious institutions like KREC or MIT placed one at the top of the social hierarchy.

Women's roles also subtly shifted. Many transitioned from managing estates to desk jobs or took on roles in their husbands' businesses. Again, women became less outwardly vocal. This wasn't a reflection of their matrilineal heritage but rather an adaptation to the predominantly patrilineal communities they interacted with. This gradual shift in women's roles, moving away from direct leadership and public influence towards more supportive positions, is a critical component of the loss of their collective voice. It's a behavioral adaptation to changing social dynamics, but one that has profound consequences for the community's power balance.

However, the fundamental "Bunt-ness" – the love and respect for daughters – persisted. Girls continued to have equal, and sometimes greater, opportunities for education. Yet, their voices became quieter.

The Era of Women Saviours (Mid-1980s to Late 1990s)

The mid-1980s to the late 1990s saw a rise of women in professional careers, but also an escalation in the "vanity fairs" of Bunt men. I call this the era of "women saviours." Some men gambled away businesses, restaurants closed, and some mismanaged hotels. Men who moved to Bangalore often held salaried office jobs. It's crucial to remember the origins of the Bunt community: these were largely sons of landowning feudal families, now working desk jobs for others. First sons-in-law and those from wealthier families often took on more risk and founded enterprises. Doctors sought dowries to establish clinics or emigrate to USA. Some followed B.R. Shetty to Dubai, others their cousins to Bombay, and some found their footing in England.

Throughout these transitions, women often provided stability:

1. Doctors frequently married other doctors or the daughters of doctors whose practices they could inherit.

2. Women who moved to Dubai with their husbands often worked as nurses, receptionists, and teachers.

3. Women in Bangalore found employment in companies like Vijaya Bank, or other Mangalore-based firms.

4. Women who relocated to Madras also found office jobs.

5. Women in England worked in schools, libraries, and other professional settings.

6. Women in America also pursued various careers.

Again, while men often garnered more public recognition, women maintained steady employment, contributed to family businesses, or bore the brunt of financial risks. Women were the anchors for many businessmen, yet their voices remained subdued. This pattern highlights a significant contradiction: women's economic contributions are often crucial to family and community stability, yet their authority and influence do not increase proportionally.

The Rise of Nuclear Families and New Aspirations (2000s-2010s)

The 2000s and 2010s witnessed a surge in women's higher education and their increasing representation in corporate jobs and professional fields – a natural progression given their heritage. Men also achieved significant success, but this was increasingly the era of nuclear families. These were the grandchildren of farmers who often dreamt of the "American dream" or the "English dream" fueled by visits from their NRI cousins, whose accents, despite similar appearances, created a world of difference.

Even if these overseas relatives were ordinary in their adopted countries, their migration itself conferred a certain extraordinary status. Dreams of moving to Bombay waned, replaced by aspirations of Dubai or Bangalore. Madras became less of a draw for Bunts from Tulunadu during this period. Bunt girls aspired to education in Bangalore, the UK, or the USA, mirroring the ambitions of Bunt men. There was a rise in families with only one or two children. Land rights became a subject of legal battles, inheritance became complex, and wealth was increasingly self-made.

Women remained relatively quiet, while the "vanity fair" of men continued. Bunt men chased name and reputation. "Aar malla Jana" – "He is a big man" – became the ultimate aspiration. Men could achieve this primarily by signaling wealth, as class distinctions became less apparent. This was the era of self-made men. It mattered less if you hailed from a prestigious Beedu (ancestral house) or a large Guthu (feudal house); respect, fear, authority, and power were increasingly tied to financial success and association with famous individuals.

These connections were often flaunted through invitations to exclusive parties, roles as chief guests at events, and the pursuit of awards – the prominence of one's name on the invitation card and the size of one's picture on billboards became coveted achievements. (It's the real-life version of trying to get the most likes on Instagram but with more traditional attire.) The shift towards nuclear families and self-made wealth further atomized social structures, and in this environment, male displays of success and influence became even more prominent, marginalizing women.

The Contemporary "Vanity Fair" and the Diminishing Role of Women

Cut to the 2020s – a full-blown "vanity fair." If you're not sporting your Gucci belt, you risk feeling excluded from the community's elite social circles. But the women within Bunt societies have become strikingly quiet. What's even more concerning is the near absence of women in leadership positions within Bunt organizations. The Bunts Sangha UK stands out as the only major Bunt association with visible female leaders, and the reasons for this difference warrant further investigation. Bunt Sangha Bangalore has had only one female president, and that was 24 years ago. Bunt Sangha Mumbai's website reveals a complete absence of female presidents.

The Bunt Association of North America fares better, having had four women presidents in its history, yet this is still an exception rather than the norm. The Indian Bunts Chamber of Commerce (IBCCI) has a board and leadership entirely composed of men. While women are often assigned roles in committees in organisations like these, they frequently shoulder the majority of the work while remaining in the background. Shockingly, 96% of the Bunt women entrepreneurs we surveyed had no knowledge of IBCCI's existence and expressed a disinterest in joining, citing the "politics of Bunt men" as a deterrent.

This isn't an isolated issue; it permeates temple administrations, social impact committees, and local Bunt Sanghas across India. Women from a matrilineal community find their external voices within their own community diminished. Yes, their daughters are educated and they may be wealthy, but their voices resonate more powerfully in corporate boardrooms and Forbes magazine features than in organizations directly related to their heritage. Many attribute this to the self-serving ambitions of Bunt men who prioritize their own vanity over empowering the women of their community. The inclusion of wives' names on trustee documents often seems purely legal. Only a handful of Bunt impact organizations have women at their forefront.

Even Bunt-run companies often favour their sons for leadership roles, despite daughters frequently receiving larger inheritances. Examining entrepreneurship:

1. Although Fouress is now led by a woman, it was long helmed by the son of the family.

2. Many industrial companies have either only male heirs or male pointing heirs.

3. For instance: The R.N. Shetty Group is primarily associated with his sons as inheritors, even though his daughters play significant roles.

4. Another instance: Narayana Hrudayalaya is mostly linked to its male founder and sons, despite a daughter's involvement.

In the education sector (instances):

1. The Nitte Education Trust is more readily associated with the male members of the family.

2. The M.V. Shetty Group of Institutions is a notable exception, where women are often associated with the group's leadership.

3. The Sahyadri Group evokes the image of its male owner, though awareness of a potential female heir exists.

4. The Alva's Group is almost exclusively associated with its male founder.

5. The A.J. Institute brings to mind its male founder, with some awareness of a female director, though not by name.

6. The R.N. Shetty Group's educational institutions follow a similar pattern of male association.

This raises a fundamental question: where did the voices of women go in a matrilineal society? Yes, they often receive a larger share of the inheritance, and yes, they are often deeply loved. But where is their collective voice within the very community that should, by its very structure, amplify it? This paradox, the erosion of female influence within a matrilineal framework, demands a deeper sociological analysis. It suggests a complex interplay of factors, including the adoption of patrilineal norms, the increased emphasis on male achievement, and the pervasive nature of vanity, which has created a behavioural context where women's voices are systematically marginalized within their own community structures.

Reclaiming the Lost Voices

The Bunt community presents a fascinating case study on the dynamics of gender and power. The transition from a society where women held considerable authority to one where their voices were increasingly muted is a complex process, shaped by migration, economic shifts, and the pervasive influence of cultural norms that prioritize male achievement and outward displays of status. The fact that this is occurring within a matrilineal framework makes it all the more compelling. It challenges the assumption that matrilineality inherently guarantees gender equality and suggests that other social forces can override traditional power structures. The overemphasis on male vanity, fueled by external influences and internalized societal expectations, has created a behavioural pattern that silences women, even as they remain central to family and economic stability.

Reclaiming the lost voices of Bunt women requires a critical examination of these power dynamics, a re-evaluation of the community's values, and a conscious effort to create spaces where women can once again exercise their rightful influence and leadership. Only then can the Bunt community truly honour its matrilineal heritage and harness the full potential of its members.

I remain in pursuit of Wacky Chicks.

Disclaimer: Women do hold powerful positions, but these are exceptions in 2020

P.S. Thinking of my 6'2 grand uncle a little extra today. He is a man who treats his nieces as equals and grandnieces even more so.

P.P.S. We've reached 20k subscribers and 90k reads! This is beyond crazy. But thank you to everyone for your messages even if I don't respond to them immediately, they get to me eventually.

P.P.P.S. Refer to my last article on Adoption and Rights to see why you may be seeing ads this month.