BURDEN OF CARRYING PAHADI CULTURE SOLELY ON PAHADANS?

DEAR PAHADI ARMCHAIR ACTIVIST,


If women are the torchbearers of culture, then what exactly are you?

  • Spectators?

  • Gatekeepers who lost the keys?

  • Or just background extras in the story of Pahadi identity?

If your only effort toward preserving culture is scrolling Instagram and judging, congratulations—you’ve truly preserved the tradition of hypocrisy. If culture is so fragile it shatters with a reel, perhaps it's not being carried—it's being caged. If your version of "Pahadi culture" only exists to control and criticize women, then maybe it's not culture—it's convenient patriarchy in a handwoven shawl.


1. She twirls in a Pahadi dress, dances to a Pahadi tune, and uploads a reel—and suddenly, she is the face of erosion. She dares to wear jeans? Or dances to a Bollywood beat? 

Out come the moral police, armed with comment sections and unsolicited advice.

"We want to marry real Pahadans, not these Instagram girls."
"These girls have forgotten their culture. Let’s move to Nepal."



2. Where were you, dear guardians of tradition, when the Pahadi script began disappearing from textbooks? Where were your " khumari" and regional pride when local artisans struggled to sell their handmade goods while you bought "mountain aesthetic" home decor from Amazon? Why is your definition of pahadi culture just limited to clothing of pahadi women?


3. Let a Pahadi man flex shirtless in a gym mirror, drench himself in English rap, or proudly puff smoke on reels — no one raises a brow, let alone a moral compass. The same culture applauds the male DJ remixing Pahadi tunes with EDM for a wedding. Hypocrisy doesn’t knock. It walks in with boots on and praises him for being ‘modern yet rooted.’ Why this lopsided morality? Why is culture a crown only she must wear—one that pinches, scratches, and silences?


4.  A Pahadan who marries outside her caste or culture? “She forgot her roots.”
    A Pahadi who does the same? “Pyaar ho gaya, kya karein?”
A woman marrying outside her community is called a traitor to the culture. A man marrying outside is “expanding horizons.” 

5. As villages in Uttarakhand and Himachal are being emptied by palayan (migration), it is mostly women who remain behind—caring for land, livestock, and legacy. Yet ironically, it is the men who return occasionally, now from cities, to dictate cultural purity in rituals. She tills the land and preserves the festivals, but he holds the microphone at family events. Double standard? Absolutely.


6. A daughter is taught Pahadi lok-geet (folk songs), while the son learns how to leave the village!


7. “Why don’t Pahadi girls stay traditional anymore?”

Because while she is expected to preserve culture, you’re out preserving your biceps and beard line.
You want her to wear a saree in 40°C heat at weddings, with  pichora, tons of heavy gold jewelries on neck, uncountable gold bangles, a big heavy nath and what not? While you show up in a shirt or a normal kurta with jeans & demand "pahadan"

Because you want her to wake up at 5 AM to help with village rituals, while you wake up at 11 to post gym selfies captioned "Mountain boy grind."

Because YOU call her less Pahadi as she listens to K-pop, but your own playlist is all Yo Yo Honey Singh and heartbreak songs by Arijit Singh.


8. “Girls are forgetting our culture.”

Okay but where were you when:

  • The village temple needed repairs? Missing.

  • Local language classes were started? Uninterested.

  • Your cousin uploaded a traditional dance reel? Laughed and said: “Bas ye hi reh gaya tha dekhna.”



9. THE BURDEN

From Bhadrapada's janyo to Ghughutiya songs, from Pahadi raith to local dialects—the burden of preservation sits squarely on the Pahadan's lap.

  • She’s the one expected to wear the traditional nath, even when city women flaunt minimalism.

  • She must know how to cook Mandua ki roti, Bhatt ki Churdkani, and Jhangora kheer, even as the men order Chinese on weekends.

  • She must raise children to speak Garhwali or Kumaoni, while the father slips into Hindi or English without guilt.

  • She must sing the Jagar while he scrolls Instagram reels.

  • She must live tradition, while he merely remembers it on festivals.


Culture is beautiful—but when it becomes a leash held only by women, it’s no longer preservation—it is patriarchal gatekeeping.

NEED OF THE HOUR?
SIMPLE, Culture should be carried by both equally!!!!!!! 
I APPRECIATE MEN WHO ARE VOCAL ENOUGH TO CALL OUT PEOPLE DISRESPECTING AND DEFAMING "WOMEN" IN THE NAME OF PRESERVING CULTURE. 










Popular posts from this blog

THODA RETRO, THODA ANTIQUE, THODA VINTAGE

Image
HOW DO I KNOW ALL OF THIS? MUMMA PAPA NE BATAYA AUR FILMO NE DIKHAYA Love in the ‘90s was a different art, When writing a letter took days to start. Waiting days for a reply, hands trembling with hope, A romance built on patience, not an instant scroll or poke Love in the ‘90s was poetry in disguise, A world of simple gestures, unspoken ties. No “typing...” stress or double blue ticks, Just heartfelt confessions with innocent tricks. When eyes met across a crowded school hall, It felt like fate, no algorithms at all. Letters inked with care carried hearts in their flight, Each word a whisper, every comma a delight. You’d sit with a pen, pour your heart on a page, And hope it reached before you turned another age. No swiping right, just a nervous landline call, And praying their dad didn’t answer at all. Dates weren’t coffee shops or sleek, modern scenes, It was the park bench, samosas, and cheap jeans. A mixed tape was the pinnacle of affection, Crafted with patience, track-by-tra...
Read more

Adulting is Just Managing Chaos: Ode to the Everyday Chaos of Being Grown [ADULTING RANT PART 1]

Image
I thought I’d be flying, oh so free, Instead, I’m a manager of “Why me?” Morning alarms hit like a slap, I’m just one more snooze from a total nap collapse. Off to the kitchen, bold and brave, Until I remember the milk I never saved. Breakfast becomes a toast and jam fight, Who knew eggshells at dawn were such a sight? Grocery runs are planned with care, But somehow chips and cookies sneak in there. “Balance your diet!” they say on the net, But ramen and takeout are all I get. Laundry? It’s a game I’m meant to lose, Colors with whites? Sure, it’s old news. Shirts become tie-dye, socks vanish on cue, Matching pairs? Not this lifetime, dude. Ah, bills and budgets, the ultimate test, Should I save, or splurge on a “treat yourself” fest? Money slips through my fingers like sand, But did you see the deals? Oh man, they’re grand! Life is a circus, a hilarious ride, Adulting’s a rollercoaster — nowhere to hide. So, here’s to the chaos, let’s raise a glass high, Surviving this mess? That’s no ...
Read more

QUESTIONS NOBODY ASKED BUT I STILL ANSWERED [ADULTING RANT PART 2]

Image
  Well, don’t you have a five-year plan? A five-year plan?  Listen, I’m just trying to keep my head above water for five days.  I mean,  do  politicians even have five-year plans anymore?  The only consistent plan I have is to open Netflix at night and contemplate why I have to pay for it every month when I barely make it past 10 PM without dozing off. "Kal ho naa ho…" ðŸŽ¶ – that’s my philosophy on my five-year plan   So, what’s your problem with adulting, exactly? Oh, where do I even start? Adulting is like that Bollywood horror movie – you walk in thinking, “How bad can it be?” And then BOOM, life hits you harder than Gabbar’s laugh echoing through Ramgarh. No one told me my paycheck would feel more like a guest appearance than a starring role. I thought I was signing up for the “Kuch Kuch Hota Hai” kind of life, but this feels more like “Darr.” "Ajeeb daastan hai yeh... kahaan shuru kahaan khatam..." 🎶   Isn’t the struggle worth it if...
Read more