She enticed us with promises of 'puri' and 'halwa'. We thought it was all about food. By Monica Bhide

I was seven years old when Mrs Goel moved into our neighbourhood in Bahrain. I was fascinated with this glowing Indian bride. Her flowing black hair, straight and shiny, her bright white and red silk sari, the large red 'bindi' adorning her forehead and the dozen bangles on each hand. All of 20, she was gorgeous and almost ethereal.

One October morning, over 20 years ago, she was trying to convince my sister and me to attend a 'puja' at her home. Even with promises of bangles and toys, she had no luck. We did not relent. The 'puja' was just two days away and she needed little girls as part of the ceremony. She turned to my mother, desperate, who in turn, whispered something in her ears. She turned back to us and said, "Well, I will serve you 'halwa' and 'puri' and both of you can bring two girlfriends each."

That was how it all started.
Two days later, we showed up at her house. Noisy, loud, giggly and dressed in our best. Six naughty little girls, ready to eat. But, alas, we had to wait until she finished her ritual. She greeted us at the door, and herded us to the balcony, where we were made to stand in a line. Her husband appeared from nowhere with a bowl in his hand. He proceeded to wash our feet with water from the bowl. The laughter and noise soon died down as eyes rolled all around. How insulting! Did they think we had dirty feet?

Then we were made to sit around in a semi circle. She began handing out bangles, a dozen for each of us. She then gave us each a red stole and finally, a silver coin. This was even better than we had bargained for. Soon, each of us got a plateful of tiny 'puris', 'halwa' and 'kale chana' (black peas).

As we ate, she began to tell us why little girls were so important. 'Kanjaks'(young girls in various parts of India are revered incarnates of goddesses), as she called us, were the very essence of purity and bliss. On this day, prayers were being offered to us, asking us to bless her house.

This continued for six years, and each year we would eat, pick up our gifts and leave. We were special. We were little goddesses. We brought happiness and bliss to people's homes. The little boys were not part of this. This was all about us girls, or as my dad began to refer to us after this, the Little Divas.

Then Mrs Goel moved away and the custom was forgotten. Until a few years ago, during my trip to India, in October, when I got a call from her. Mrs Goel wanted to know if I was free to come over for 'halwa' and 'puris'. I went over and we began to talk. About 'halwa' and 'puris' and'kanjaks'. Now, I was old enough to finally understand its real significance.

In a country where female foeticide was then growing, where boys were thought of as the better progeny, in a country where ultrasounds were (and sometimes still are) used to eliminate female foetuses, she was trying to practise an age-old tradition. This was her way of urging little girls to begin to take pride in who they are. According to her, girls signified love, bliss and happiness.

Girls bring love to the home in which they are born and into which they are married; they are the teachers and leaders of tomorrow. The tradition, she said, is to show them that they were special. To ensure, I guess, in her own way, that when these 'kanjaks' grew up, they had the same pride in bearing daughters as they did sons. As she continued to talk - we were startled by a lot of noise.I turned around to see six little girls walking in through the doors. Six little divas, ready for their share of 'halwa'and 'puri'. The future of our country was walking in through the doors.

You Can Do It, Too...
Keep up long-forgotten traditions that unwittingly help little girls take pride in who they are.
• Share your experiences about practices you have known to develop self-esteem in little girls, with your friends and neighbours.
• Be proud about bearing daughters and show it.
• Ensure that you let these girls know that they symbolise love and happiness.
• Finally, write to us and tell us what you did and continue to do to make little girls value who they are.