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Imagine a quiet village setting. Homesteads made of earthen tiles, bamboo walls caked over with mud, a few affluent homes of baked bricks. It is morning, almost lunchtime, women in the houses are cooking: some using fuelwood, some using dry dung, and some using liquid petroleum gas.

The younger women, the new brides of the village are abuzz, they have a thing planned for today, a place to get to. No, it’s not a religious ceremony, it’s not a festival or a party that brings them together. They have actions that need taking. They have been training, they have been starting businesses and 80 brides of the community are in the process of a big venture—they are planning a cooperative.

There is energy among these young women of the village today. They finish their work and with the blessings of the family elders, they bid farewell to everyone and they stream out of their houses to meet each other.

Six months ago, they and their families joined the FCDO-supported Sahaj program. There were discussions regarding what women can do, how they can help each other, how young people can be taken care of and how they can contribute to their families.

Fathers-in-law, mothers-in-law, husbands and wives, sisters-in-law and the whole family took part in sessions where traditional practices, both positive and negative were discussed, ideas on how to improve the lives of women were generated, tolerance and acceptance, better interrelationships, improved health and sanitation, and income generation were discussed.

After much back and forth, training was held: 92 percent of the women who died during maternity did not make cash incomes, according to recent study by MIRA. And there was consensus that young women had to be more in control of their lives.

They and their families learned about gender rights, potential for violence, how to break the cycle of dependency, and they learned how to make money! Everyone learned business and transactional basics, some trained in tailoring, running ration shops and food stalls, some chose to learn goats, cow or buffalo farming.

This knowledge and their comradery made them confident. The 80 young brides built a network that spanned Siraha and Saptari. They identified need and trained under the local municipality. They sought and received the support of their family and communities, they arranged access to security and phone lines and identified who they could turn to for help within and without their families.

Their fathers-in-law, mothers-in-law, husbands and other member of the family joined them and helped improve their conditions, helped them seek solutions, achieve income generation. Some went back to school, and they achieved a right to self-determination. They took a step beyond and are themselves supporting each other.

The meeting has started, the young women are full of questions. One young bride has a tailoring shop, other brides go to her to get their sewing done. So is the kurta finished, the blouse has a slight problem on the shoulders… sure, everything will be taken care of as soon as possible! Another just started a grocery store, what is the price of a half-liter packet of oil, does she have rice flakes chiura? “Ok, you are offering a much better price, I am coming over to get some stuff.” To the young woman who has a buffalo, “A family celebration is coming up, do you have yogurt?”

Then comes the serious stuff. There is a need to save money. If a collective can be up and running, they can pool together all the monies and then give out loans at decent interest rates so the brides can themselves generate capital to establish and improve their businesses and help those that are in the danger of failing.

Problems are addressed, need for counseling for a specific family, greater learning of gender rights, a husband who is insensitive, a mother-in-law who is supportive, are brought up and solutions arrived at.

Then after the main discussions are over, the facilitator smiles goodbyes, but wait! There is talk of another family where a marriage is taking place. A new bride is coming into the community. The women have ideas on how to welcome her, bring her into their fold, support her in her new community, make sure that her family gives her justice and care.

There is a different feel in the villages now, a coming together of the new and the established. There are actions to take, goals to achieve. There is greater justice for women, especially young women who have left all that they have known to enter a different home, a different family, and a different community. The 80 brides who came into the village wearing bright yellow saris of weddings shine like 80 new suns filled with hope.

Recent research in Nepal by Emory University and SAHAJ found that 66 percent of young women and girls are afraid of men in their families, especially fathers and husbands. While 45 percent felt afraid sometimes, 11 percent felt scared often.

I am a father of two daughters—one of them is two and the other seven. I know that my older daughter is a little afraid of me. “Did you finish your homework? Why don’t you practice your music? Please put your stuff away. Can you not do that please? Did you finish reading the book?”: These are questions that have to be asked. Once in a while, say about two or three times every year, timeout sessions have to be doled out. I worry about how I can be a kinder, better father.

I was 16 when I started working with children and other young people. I have been a tutor, volunteer, teacher, counselor, a children’s program lead, administrator, and a planner who has influenced, to a degree, young people four to 20 years old. Over three decades, I have had direct say in the activities of more than a thousand young people.

Yet it made the hairs on my back stand when I read in the SAHAJ study report that girls share, “A higher burden of labor, family conflict, and decreased financial security. The return of absent family members and alcohol abuse by adults were associated with several categories of fear and a reported decrease in feeling safe in the home.” It's unimaginable to me that our daughters do not feel safe at home.

The young people I worked with, some were very poor or abandoned, unable to afford quality education and care. Some came from families of multi-millionaires and had several servants assigned to their wellbeing, including security guards. Whether the families came from the high mountains or the Tarai plains, whether they suffered poverty or were rich, they faced the same question: how to best bring up their child?

Even then there were conflicts within families, among parents and grandparents, children and adults. In my family, father and mother tried to treat me and my sister as equals, yet there was a struggle with the extended family. There was no denying that Nepali traditional families continue to give preferential treatment to their sons. However, much has changed for a new generation of daughters. My friends remain immensely happy with one daughter or two, giving them the same love as they would a son. Very blessed with two wonderful daughters, I tell my friends sometimes, “We should start a club for those of us who have daughters only, there are so many of us!”

Bringing them up, I have seen families that are firm with their children while teaching them empathy and giving them care. Full freedom without consequences turned most children into a bother for the people who came in contact with them and for the families themselves. The most difficult situations came about when children were given full freedom and then meted out stern punishment when things became difficult.

My generation was afraid of fathers, teachers, police, authority in general and shameful of family members who were “different.” Most of us faced corporal punishments. A significant number of us, I believe, have stunted empathy, reject our larger families, stay away and remain uncommunicative, and have only made peace with ourselves and our dear ones after many years—or not at all.

The opposite is true of how people treat their offspring now, and so it was a concerning throwback to read of daughters who are scared of family (especially fathers), with 86 percent of them never sharing their fears with anyone. A VSO survey documents that 21 percent of respondents perceived an increase in gender-based violence in their community and less access to safety nets since the start of the Covid lockdown.

The ideal families that I have worked with deeply respected their young people and their opinions. Daughters in these homes are unafraid to share their ideas and opinions and elders take their ideas on board in everyday decision-making. Though rebellious, they stay within boundaries. They care about their grandparents, uncles and aunts; and the old as they face old age, disease, and death. They have great compassion for their parents and siblings and are willing to support everyone the best they can. They are happy to visit cousins and the extended family knowing that they belong.

But in this new world where parents want to be understanding of their children, where corporal punishment is not an option, it was easy to be draconian using psychological, verbal, and, later, financial means to create control. When there was lack of togetherness, it resulted in young people following a different philosophy and understanding of life: estrangement and disagreement were addressed ultimately with tolerance, acceptance, and a bringing together.

There is really no one way of parenting, educating, and bringing up young people. Governments, media, societies, neighbors and family members can point to how things “should be” and that in itself is flawed considering that each geography, culture, language, community, family, and individual is different. “I really do not want to be friends with my kids…. It is my job to make sure that my kids are taught what is right and what is wrong. It is my job is to teach my children how to become great human beings. I am okay with my kids thinking I am not their best friend. I am okay with my kids being upset that they’re disciplined.”

As a father, though, I would like to be approachable even though I would want my daughters to accept responsibility and be accountable. I would like them to feel that I am always there for them and do not end up alienating them. I will never judge them. I want them to be independent, able to make their own decisions and stand up to injustice from outside the family or from their father.

I accept that my daughters can be afraid of me and will consciously try to make sure that I am approachable and caring. For the many fathers of this world, it is always good to remember that one day our daughters will leave home and build their own lives. It is up to us to create relationships with our daughters that they will find comfort in, that they will want to come back to, and pass on to their own families. Insights of my daughters two and seven years of age, the children, their parents and grandparents, and efforts of SAHAJ, VSO, WOREC and others who work in this field help improve us as individuals, families, communities, and fathers. Let our daughters’ hearts be free of fear in this wonderful world and at home.

The author, associated with the Spiny Babbler Knowledge Center, is an author of several books and has worked in communications for over a quarter of a century