“We did not have machines, but we had hands that knew. We watched the mother, not the monitor. We sang to her, held her, stayed with her—not for money, but because birth is not a job, it is a responsibility.”
— Rokeya Bibi, retired dai from Murshidabad district
Before hospitals, ultrasounds, and epidurals, childbirth across the Indian subcontinent was a home affair, surrounded by women, rituals, and the indigenous knowledge of the traditional midwives. These midwives, known as dais, often lacked formal education, yet it was their practiced hands that birthed generations of young Indians. In regions like West Bengal, their role extended far beyond assisting in births, they were integral to the cultural and moral upbringing of the child.
Unfortunately, as biomedical science grew by leaps and bounds, the local knowledge systems were slowly marginalized, as is the case with most indigenous practices. However, today, when there is a reawakening to the importance of well-rounded, culturally-embedded care, these stories of midwives and their efficiency offer profound lessons—not only about childbirth, but also about community, care, and the underappreciated genius of women’s intuition.
Across India, births were handled by experienced midwives who had learnt their craft through apprenticeship rather than training. These dais assisted in all stages of childbirth—from recognizing early signs of labour, positioning the mother for comfort and ease, cutting and tying the umbilical cord with a sterilized sickle—to guiding postpartum care for mother and the babies. The skilled midwives were mostly from marginalized caste backgrounds, especially in rural areas. Their position in the social fabric provided an interesting duality: they were subjects of social stigma, yet essential—no baby could enter the world without them to guide the process.
West Bengal: The Dai as Ritual Healer and Skilled Professional
In West Bengal, the traditional midwifery had its unique flavour. Here, the dais operated not just as birth attendants but also as ritual guardians, particularly in the districts of Birbhum, Nadia, and the 24 Parganas. They would often invoke deities, especially Shashthi Maa, through songs and mantras to aid in and ensure seamless childbirth. They would also instruct the use of shital pati, cow dung-coated birthing rooms, dietary restrictions, and body-wrapping both as a means of ensuring hygiene and as signs of symbolic purity.
In Bengal, childbirth was more than a medical event—it was a passage drenched in social, cosmic, and emotional meaning. The women viewed motherhood and its various steps as rites of transformation—a shared experience savoured only by the women.
Dismantling a System Through ‘Modernisation’
As colonial and post-colonial views gained traction, midwifery was increasingly viewed with suspicion. The British authorities advocated “clean” and “scientific” methods of childbirth, which gradually displaced the dais. The post-independence push for institutional delivery under programs like the Janani Suraksha Yojana (JSY) further eroded the role of dais, incentivizing hospital births over home deliveries.
This shift was not without consequence. While institutional delivery has undeniably improved survival rates in emergency situations, the loss of culturally embedded care has left many women, particularly from rural and tribal communities, feeling alienated and unsupported during childbirth. The clinical setting of a hospital, with its language barriers, unfamiliar protocols, and absence of community, can be deeply disorienting for women accustomed to being surrounded by trusted women from their village.
Reclaiming the Legacy: Documentation and Integration
Fortunately, there is a growing movement to document and honor the knowledge of dais before it is lost entirely. Researchers, NGOs, and cultural organizations are working to record the practices, songs, and wisdom of retired dais. Institutions like Srishti Manipal Institute and Viswa-Bharati have initiated projects to document and preserve the memories and skills of retired dais before they are lost forever.
In rediscovering the ancient genius of dais, we have also learnt a few more things about the technique of midwifery—such as how dais were often emotional anchors for first-time mothers, how ancient birthing process was a community event surrounded by women, songs, and comfort, and most importantly, how healing did not end with the birth of the baby—postpartum care was just as important.
On a brighter note, India’s maternal mortality has indeed been steadily declining, thanks to access to formal healthcare, but numbers do not tell the entire story. The lack of culturally sensitive care, especially among marginalized communities, means that there is still a substantial trust and compliance gap that needs to be bridged. This can be done by integrating traditional knowledge into modern systems: where midwives can be trained in obstetrics and traditional care, where safe home-births are valid and supported options, and where postpartum care is again given the importance it rightly deserves. Dais can become carriers and preachers of their dying craft, thereby ensuring that maternal care is not only safe but also deeply rooted in cultural understanding.
The Wisdom We Left Behind
Traditional midwifery in India has different stories to tell. In West Bengal, for example, these stories go far beyond childbirth, they are remnants of knowledge that we overlook in our technology-centric approach to measuring care; they are documentations of women’s wisdom, caste knowledge, and rural knowledge—of little importance on paper, of great relevance in the workings of life.
As India forges ahead in healthcare innovation, revisiting these indigenous knowledge systems does not mean we are moving backward. It means we are accepting all that was wise, human, and healing, improving them with all the modern knowledge we possess now, and letting this improved knowledge system guide us on our path ahead.
