Apparently, the day before, when Munni had left her daughter home, she got very bored and decided to pay her married sister a visit. "When her father and brother got to know that she had gone off by herself, they beat her black and blue..." said Munni. "In our community, unmarried girls can only step out with a chaperone!" When she tried to intercede on her daughter's behalf, the men of the family told her that if the girl ran off with someone and besmirched the family honour, what would they do? They had to teach her a lesson, they said.
Munni said that her daughter was a social creature who liked to pass the time of the day with anyone who had it. "But it's all in innocence," she said. She wondered sometimes, if the beatings would force her daughter to actually run away with someone. "The atmosphere of constant suspicion would make anyone want to escape," she said sadly. "That's why today, even though my daughter kept protesting how sick she was, I forced her to come with me. At least this way, I know she's safe," said Munni.
Would it not be a better idea, I asked, to tell her son and husband to back off? Munni said sadly, "What can I say? They're grown men. When I protest that at 19, she's too old to be beaten, they say that they are only protecting the family's honour." As the daughter was completely illiterate ("school has nothing to offer to girls from families like mine," said Munni), I suggested they enrolled her in a vocational course, so at least she had some chance of standing on her own feet. Munni said that both her husband and son would be totally against it. "The only reason they allow her to do domestic work is because she comes and goes with me," she said. In the end, even though my personal views on marriage are relatively radical, I found myself asking Munni if she'd begun looking for a decent boy to marry her off to. She replied that they'd been looking, but not found anyone suitable.
Days later, the daughter was back in action, saucily trading comments with passersby as she wielded her broom. It was as if the beatings at home had little impact on her. But I remembered. And when I saw Munni looking at her daughter with worried eyes, I saw she did too. "You know, people say how hard it is for people like us to protect our daughters from other men. But I can tell you from my experience, it is harder to protect them from their own protectors, their brothers and father who call themselves the keepers of their modesty..."